Page 7

Magnolia Steel

The boutique smells like peonies. Soft classical music plays from somewhere overhead, and everything around me is white and gold and gentle.

Velvet settees. Rows of gowns so delicate they remind me of clouds caught on hangers.

A silver tray of champagne flutes sparkles beside a tower of finger sandwiches no one has touched.

It’s perfect. Elegant. Everything bridal dreams are supposed to be.

Despite my happiness, I’m… unsettled.

Malie’s chatting with the stylist near the front desk, asking questions about alterations and timelines. Leilani and Sefina flank me, flipping through racks and pulling gowns they think will suit me.

They’re so excited.

I’m trying to be.

I slide my hand over the tulle of a nearby dress, soft as breath, and remind myself to smile. This should seem like a fairy tale. And it does. But someone is absent.

I always imagined Violet would be beside me for this part… as my person. The one who’d hand me tissues when I cried because I’m overwhelmed. The one who’d laugh with me over the ballgown disasters or swoon with me when I found the perfect dress.

But she’s an ocean away. And I realize it’s unrealistic for her to fly across the world to watch me try on gowns, but the ache in my chest doesn’t care about what’s realistic.

“Okay,” Sefina says, clapping her hands. “We’ve narrowed our choices down to four. One sleek, one romantic, one full drama, and one wild card.” She grins as though she’s presented me with a winning lottery ticket. “Let’s get this party started.”

I nod and the stylist ushers me into the dressing room.

The first dress is stunning. Off-the-shoulder. Lace detailing that looks like angels spun it. But as I step in front of the mirror and see it hug my frame, I already know.

It’s not the one.

Malie clasps her hands together with a soft smile. “You look beautiful, Magnolia. Truly. That lace is a dream.”

Leilani lifts her phone, snapping a photo. “It’s giving romantic royalty. You could walk into any cathedral and the choir would start singing.”

Sefina tilts her head. “It’s gorgeous but––”

Malie finishes for her. “But it’s not lighting you up.”

I exhale, relieved they see it, too. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not my dress.”

The second dress is softer. Flowing chiffon. A little ethereal. I feel like I should be barefoot in a field somewhere, holding wildflowers.

Not it either.

Malie tilts her head. “You look lovely, lo’u afafine. Like a woodland goddess.”

Sefina wrinkles her nose. “It’s giving flower girl at Coachella. Not bridal.”

Leilani sighs, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re gorgeous in it, but no. This dress isn’t you. It’s too floaty. It’s trying too hard to be whimsical.”

“Agreed.” I nod, already turning toward the fitting room again.

I’m zipped into the third dress, a glamorous satin piece with a cathedral-length train. I stare at myself, waiting for it and… nothing. It’s beautiful––they all are––but there’s no special connection for me.

I step out of the fitting room, smoothing the silk over my hips as the train trails behind me. The girls go quiet, and for a second, I think they’re going to say that this one is it—until I see their faces.

Leilani is the first to speak. Her tone is soft, careful. “You are stunning in that, but I don’t know. You seem kind of sad in that dress.”

Malie tilts her head, her eyes narrowing me. “Lo’u afafine, what’s wrong?”

I give the safe answer. “Please don’t think I’m not happy to have you here with me. I am, very much so, but I’m missing Violet. We always planned on doing this together.”

And while that is the truth, it’s not the whole truth.

There’s so much more.

It’s not just this moment without Vi. It’s the pressure of everything closing in from the edges—Tyson and the way last night spiraled out of control.

The hatred in Alex’s eyes when he shoved him—furious, unhinged, protective in a way that scared me.

And the worst part? Knowing next time, it won’t stop with a shove.

At some point, Alex’s rage is going to boil over.

And when that happens, he’ll do more than push him.

This day should be joy and lace and champagne, but Tyson is a cloud raining all over my dress-shopping parade.

In the mirror, my reflection stares back at me. And I’m mad at myself for not being able to forget what he did last night.

I step back into the dressing room, another gown waiting on the hook—a soft tulle number with delicate beading across the bodice. It’s the dress you dream about when you’re twelve and playing bride with a lace curtain veil.

But right now? It looks like more fabric I won’t connect with.

I slip it on anyway, because that’s what you do.

You try again.

You keep smiling.

You pretend the knot in your stomach isn’t there.

When I step out, Malie is waiting for me—not with her usual warm smile but with that mother’s intuition look that sees straight through the act.

She steps in close, smoothing down one side of the dress before meeting my eyes in the mirror. “None of these are the one, are they?”

I let out a half laugh. “Guess I’m just picky.”

She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t buy it. “No, baby. This isn’t about tulle or lace or missing Violet. What’s going on?”

I hold her gaze for a long second, then breathe out, deciding to tell her.

I sit on the little velvet bench at the edge of the dressing platform, the layers of tulle spilling around me, a frothy mess I can’t climb out of.

Malie kneels beside me, her hand gentle over mine. She waits, not pressing, and somehow, that opens the dam.

“It happened again last night at the party Kye and Krishna were having at their house.”

Her brows pull together, soft but sharp. “What happened again?”

“Tyson McRae. He waited until I was alone. Cornered me. Told me everything he always does—that he still loves me, that I’m making a mistake, that Alex isn’t right for me.”

I draw in a shaky breath. “He grabbed me. Not hard. And not to hurt me but to stop me from walking away. Alex saw it, and you can imagine how well that went.”

“Oh, lo’u afafine. It’s no wonder you aren’t in the mood for this today.”

“Alex was able to hold himself back, but I watched every muscle in his body tense, a bomb ready to explode. I was so scared of what Alex might do. He’s so on edge and his breaking point is coming soon.

” I look up and meet her eyes. “I couldn’t live with it if he lost control—to protect me—and it cost him everything. ”

I don’t say the words, but we both know what I mean.

Elias told us everything about what happened in the States. We knew Tyson would be back, and we’ve all been bracing for his next move.”

“I don’t want to burden anyone with this.”

I’m not only scared of Tyson. I fear what this fight between them could turn into.

Malie shakes her head. “Magnolia, protecting you isn’t a burden. And neither is protecting the man you love.”

Her words strike a chord deep inside me. “How do I protect Alex?”

Malie sits up a little straighter. Her tone doesn’t change. Not even a twitch of emotion. Just a cool, composed statement. “Kick Tyson in the dick,” she says with absolute calm.

I stare at her. Blink once. Then twice. “I’m sorry—what?”

She folds her hands in her lap. “You heard me. Kick him in the dick every time he approaches you. No hesitation. No apology. Even a man who fancies himself in love will fall out very fast if that woman keeps aiming for his balls.”

There’s a second of dead silence. Then Leilani gasps. “That may be the best advice you’ve ever given, Tinā.”

Sefina nearly spits out her champagne. “Honestly? Iconic, Tinā.”

I burst into laughter, the kind that tumbles out messy and startled, a little rough around the edges. “ Kick him in the dick ?” I echo, wiping at the corner of my eye.

“Hard as you can,” Malie says, nodding as if this is now official family policy. “No warning. No build-up. Just take the shot and walk away when he goes down. Let him know you’re not playing around.”

We all lose it. The whole boutique fills with the sound of women laughing—not the soft, bridal giggles you’re supposed to hear in this kind of place. This is full-throated, real-deal cackling, and it’s the first time I’ve felt light in days.

I still don’t have the dress, but I’ve got something better. Armor––in the form of the fiercest women I know.

We don’t find the dress. Not today.

The last gown goes back on the hanger, and the stylist gives me a sympathetic smile. But I’m not disappointed. Not really. Because I may leave empty-handed—but I’m not walking out empty-hearted.

Malie links her arm through mine as we head toward the door, Leilani and Sefina chatting behind us about lunch plans and what style dress would better suit me. And I realize, I’m not alone in this.

I may not have Vi beside me the way we always imagined, but I have Malie, Leilani, and Sefina––women who will straighten my crown and if needed, fix a problem named Tyson McRae with a strategically placed knee.

He thinks I’m the same girl he chased through Charleston. Soft-spoken. Scared. Alone. But he’s in for a surprise. I’ve got backup now.

And… a green light to aim low.