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“That’s nice,” I tell them. I can’t say much else, but I’m in a really good mood, and my daughter is getting to spend the time I didn’t with my uncle.

“I should kick James in the balls the next time I see him,” Jordan says conversationally, making me blink in surprise.

“Excuse me?” I sputter.

“Mmhmm, me too,” my sister mutters. “He didn’t do anything like that with you?”

“He taught me how to play the guitar,” I muse. “I played in the fields around the house alone a lot, rode my bike, and went to school. There wasn’t much else to do.”

“What about play dates with other kids? Or neighbors?” Layla asks, eyebrows drawing down.

Shrugging, I shake my head. “My sperm donor worked a lot, I remember. I was always excited to see him, and he’d pat me on the head, saying how much he missed me. They’d send me out of the house for hours, I’d spend some time showing him what I’d learned on my guitar or keyboard, and that was it. James wasn’t very present,” I explain.

“We were scouting new music back then, making a name for ourselves, but I didn’t realize things were this bad,” Jordan mutters. “Although, Layla’s mother didn’t stay married to my brother for long either.”

“I don’t even remember her,” Layla says without ire. It’s simply a fact as she opens the door to the bridal shop. “I think she left when I was a few months old, so there’s nothing to really miss. I’m perfectly alright without her.”

There are days when I wish I had ended up in foster care, but no one cared enough to call.

“Hello, Miss Lennon, we’re so excited to have you in today. Champagne? Water? Can I get you either?” the blonde shop manager asks with a welcoming smile.

“Just water for me, please. Layla? Uncle?” I ask.

The shop manager, I think her name is Cindy, mentally stores the information as she looks expectantly at them in her chic green dress and peep toe heels.

“Water as well, please,” my uncle says easily.

My sister gives a self righteous sigh that makes me giggle, and also opts for water.

The dressing room is to our right, and we walk together. There’s a stall for me to change in and comfortable sofas. Though, I don’t know that my kid will allow my uncle to sit as she begins to drift off. There’s a lot of sleepy dust in that baby carrier and she likes it when you sway back and forth.

“Go on and change, Saira is on her way to dreamland, which is perfect for this,” he says, shooing me off.

Smirking, I change into my dress. As I step out, someone is waiting to fasten up the back. I definitely can’t get in and out of this without help.

“Good, good. Did you bring the shoes that you plan to wear the day of?” the store manager asks.

“I did!” I exclaim as Layla pulls them out of her bag. Placing them on the floor, I step into them, immediately feeling taller.

“Perfect,” Cindy murmurs. “I’ll bring Rina, your seamstress, in to make sure everything is perfect.”

As my eyes fall on my uncle, I see that he’s furtively trying to hide his tears.

“Uncle Jordan, you’re going to make me cry,” I tell him with a wide smile.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he breathes, wiping away at the waterworks. “It’s beautiful, and the color suits you perfectly. This is a dress that’s meant to be.”

“Just like her and the guys,” Layla says happily. There’s no sadness in her eyes, she’s firmly enjoying the moment. “They’re all going to lose it when they see you. I can’t wait to watch you get married.”

“Aye,” Jordan sighs. “I’m just so happy for you.”

The seamstress walks in, and I realize my cheeks are wet. I guess a few tears slipped out of my eyes.

“Is everyone alright here?” she chuckles as she takes my hand and gestures for me to step up onto the platform.

“We’re being sentimental fools,” Uncle Jordan says. “She’s my first niece to get married, and I’ve been so busy with the details, that seeing her hit me all at once how big of a deal this is.”

“This happens to a lot of people,” she says with a smile. “I’m Rina, and I did your adjustments after my assistant took your measurements earlier in the week. I want to make certain that it’s perfect…”