Page 1 of I Do, You Don't
Chapter 1
Lara
It's not the dress I wanted, yet it's the one I could afford, and the one I'll wear.
It came off the clearance rack at a boutique that smelled of cinnamon potpourri and faded perfume. The lace is scratchy. The hem brushes the tops of my shoes only if I stand perfectly still. But it fits. And more importantly, it’s the dress I said yes to, because I’m about to marry the only man who’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much and not too little.
I’ve always been too much, too loud, too eager, a dreamer with too little to offer. But with Gideon, I finally feel like enough.
And that’s what makes this moment so complicated.
People whisper that I’m a gold-digger, waiting for our finances to merge. I couldn’t care less. I’m marrying Gideon because I love him.
So yes, the lace itches. The hem is too short. But if this is the dress I wear to marry the love of my life, then I love it.
I smooth my palms over the bodice, pressing out a wrinkle that probably won’t even show. The dressing room mirror is smudged in the corners. The overhead light buzzes like it has a headache. Still, I can almost see it: the aisle, the moment, the look on his face. That part is crystal clear—like the kind of fantasy I should’ve outgrown when I left my mom’s cramped apartment and stepped into a world I’ve never quite belonged to.
Outside, laughter bursts through the curtain. Delilah. Of course.
I take a breath, not because I’m nervous about the ceremony, but because being in the same bridal suite as her feels like sitting too close to a lit candle. Too close, and you’ll burn.
She’s in my wedding party at Gideon’s request. “She’s like a sisterto me,” he’d said, flashing that boyish half-grin that always melted my doubts. That grin. It softened the edges of everything, made me believe the world could fit together neatly, like puzzle pieces.
But with Delilah in the picture, I can’t pretend it’s that simple.
Maybe once it was. But that was before I started noticing the cracks beneath her polish.
Now, every compliment feels dipped in acid. Every smile just wide enough to show teeth.
“She’s still not ready?” Delilah’s voice slices through the air, smooth, sharp.“Honestly, if I had her budget, I’d be done by now.”
Funny how it’s always everyone else talking about my budget. Never me.
A flicker of heat rises in my chest. There’s an awkward shuffle outside the curtain, a cough, a throat clear, acrylic nails tapping too fast against a phone screen.
I roll my eyes and adjust the neckline. She’s not wrong. My dress was an afterthought. My shoes are borrowed. My bouquet will be made of grocery-store roses I arranged myself at midnight, after the florist canceled.
But I don’t care.
I never wanted a wedding I couldn’t afford. I wanted the one with Gideon.
Outside the window, the sky hangs heavy and gray. Not raining, but threatening. The faint scent of champagne drifts in from the outer room, someone popped a bottle too early. My stomach tightens. For amoment, I wonder if anyone would notice if I slipped out for air. If I could shake off the fear creeping through me like a shadow.
A knock sounds against the doorframe.
“Lara?”
It’s Drew. My sister. Her voice is soft, the same quiet, steady calm she always wears when she’s trying not to make waves. She’s always been like that: protective in the background, careful never to step on my toes.
“You almost ready?”
I exhale, a half-laugh slipping out. She can hear the nerves in my voice without me saying a word. She always knows what I need, whether it’s a cup of coffee or the kind of support that says, I see you. I get it.
“Yes,” I say, even though I don’t feel ready. Not because of the dress. Not even because of Gideon. Because of Delilah.
I gather the skirt in both hands and step out of the soft-lit fitting nook into the main suite, where the walls are lined with gilded mirrors and laughter that never quite reaches me. The air feels heavier here, like the room itself is holding its breath.
And then I see her.
