Page 59 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

“I haven’t heard from Victor since … you know …”

“He kissed you silly on the street like some epic romance film?”

The memory, which should have been a fond one, had started to darken around the edges, the joy and pleasure she’d once felt, melting into a melancholy that seemed to settle into her very bones.

“Here’s a wild idea,” Lucy said as they fell further behind the others. “Why don’tyoureach out to him?”

“I don’t want to seem desperate.”

“You can’t be desperate. You’re not actually dat … Eavesdrop much?” Lucy asked, making Pandora’s head pop up to see Bellatrix had slowed down and wasn’t even trying to hide that she was listening to them.

Caught, Bellatrix just huffed and rushed to catch up with her mother.

“Do you think she heard anything?” Lucy asked.

Pandora’s stomach tightened, seeing Bellatrix leaning in to speak to Anastacia. Then the two of them looked back at Lucy and Pandora.

“I don’t know,” she said, watching as a cold wind whipped Lucy’s thick hair around. “But we didn’t say much. Except that I was desperate, I guess.”

“I get why you don’t like her,” Lucy said, eyeing Bellatrix. “She’s trouble.”

“Elias thinks she’s bitter because she expected to get all the attention when she came to visit and, with my engagement announcement, I stole all of it.”

“As much as I hate to agree with anything that Nosferadouche has to say, he probably has a point with that.”

“Here we are! Here we are!” Ravenna cheered, making several strangers on the street turn to look at them all, their gazes lingering a long time on Ravenna’s and Ophelia’s outfits.

“Um …” Lucy looked at the abandoned storefront.

“Appearances can be quite deceptive, dear,” Ravenna said, before doing some sort of intricate knock on the door.

There was a short pause before the door yawned open.

“I thought you guys didn’t age,” Lucy whispered to Pandora as they faced who must be the shopkeeper.

Admittedly, the woman looked a bit like a reanimated corpse.

She was tall and spindly thin, her cheeks concave, her wrists fragile. Her silvery hair was pulled back in a severe bun to reveal a strong forehead, mercilessly plucked thin brows, and brown eyes so deep they seemed to reject any light trying to reflect off of them.

Her body was dressed in a classic drop-waisted dress in the deepest shade of black. Pandora worried that the thin material might rip from the sharpness of the bones beneath.

“Is this the bride?” The woman’s voice, dry as dust, croaked as her gaze moved over Bellatrix’s thin frame. “Lovely.”

Bellatrix fawned under the praise as Ravenna reached out to grab Pandora’s arm, yanking her to the front of the crowd.

“No, no. This is the bride,” Ravenna said proudly.

The proprietress’s cold eyes slid over to Pandora instead, taking in her body with no small amount of distaste.

“You do recall we specialize in vintage gowns,” the woman said. “For vintage body types.”

At this, Pandora’s mother – who was much curvier than her daughter – let out a cutting laugh.

“Sylvia, are you saying this,” she said, waving toward her own frame, “is anything but a vintage body type?”

Sylvia, likely realizing that preferred body types varied by generation and location, had nothing more to say about that.

“I suppose we will have a few options,” she said, moving inside the seemingly abandoned storefront, leaving everyone to follow behind her.