Page 134 of Dirty Husband

Jasmine: Is that supposed to loosen my tongue?

Shep: No.

Mmm.

Yes.

So much yes.

All the yes.

"Send your dirty texts later," Quyen says. "You've barely started."

My blush spreads to my chest. Is it that obvious? How do we get to dirty so fast? I guess it is the only way we connect.

"Excuse me." I drop my cell in my purse. Slip into the heels. Let her help me into the next dress.

It's her pick. An enormous princess dress. The skirt is the size of my old shower. The bodice is fitted. It even has that v at the bottom.

The light fabric twirls as I spin. It's the kind of dress. One that demands movement.

"How will he kiss you?" Mai laughs. "You can't barely move past the thing." She tries to move closer, to reach for my hips, but the skirt is in the way.

"It's beautiful. Let him strain himself," Quyen says.

It is beautiful. And I do feel like a princess. But not like me. "It's not it."

They exchange a look of victory. Somehow, they both take this as a win.

They help me out of the dress. Then they move to the wall. To something behind the stack of dresses.

"This is just an idea," Mai says. "I think you should stay modern. Wear something new. Practical. But your father—"

"He would love it," Quyen says.

She holds up a black dress bag. Unzips it to reveal a traditional Vietnamese wedding gown. Like the one in my mom's pictures.

It's not modern. Not here. Not even in Vietnam. Nowadays, most women wear a white western dress for the ceremony. They may change into their Ao dai later. But they keep the opulence for the pictures.

Still… it looks so much like what my mom wore.

I nod. Let them help me into it.

So much like the sheath. Soft red fabric that skims my skin. Long, elegant lines.

Beautiful. Traditional. Bold.

"It's too modest," Quyen argues.

"And you look like one ofthosegirls." Mai mutters something about a friend of hers who just refuses to assimilate.

"But like your mother too." Quyen blinks back a tear. "So much like her."

"She would want modern," Mai says. "She wanted you to fit in. Like a normal, American girl."

"She would want something grand. Something big. That makes you feel like royalty." Quyen turns to me. "What makes you feel like royalty, Jasmine? It's your dress. It's your day. It's your chance to stand in front of everyone and declare your love for your fiancé. Do it in a way that feels honest."

For once, Mai agrees.