Page 60 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

“Don’t you listen to Sylvia, my dear,” Ravenna said to Pandora. “You just ask Elias here. Men like all sorts of body types. I’ve never heard a word of complaint about my curves.En vogueor not.”

Elias, holding the door open for the women, gave Pandora a smile.

“I’ve never known your body type to be out of vogue,” he told her, but it wasn’t the boost to her ego it might have been if she wasn’t fretting over her fake fiancé’s newfound aversion to her.

“He’s been right twice in one night,” Lucy said as she walked into the storefront with Pandora.

Inside, they moved through a room full of abandoned racks and an alarming number of spiderwebs to get to the back room.

This bridal shop was a relic from a bygone era. Stepping inside was like walking into the 1950s, where time had paused to preserve its elegance.

Plush carpet in a soft, creamy hue muffled every footstepas the women moved inside, adding an air of quiet reverence to the space.

A round, mirrored platform dominated the center of the room, framed by posts artfully draped in ivory and champagne silk, just begging the women to ascend and swirl for the enraptured onlookers.

The seating area was a collection of vintage armchairs and loveseats adorned in rich mauve velvet and fringed pillows, arranged like a Victorian living room.

Glass-topped side tables bore delicate vases full of freshly cut roses, their petals red as fresh blood.

Scattered around the room, mannequins stood dressed in timeless styles ranging from dramatic ballgowns to sleek, understated sheaths.

The lighting was soft and golden, casting a flattering glow over everything it touched, as if conspiring to make every bride look as radiant as possible.

The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, creating the illusion of endless space, the gowns stretching into eternity.

Though there were also several amusingly unconvincing fake plants scattered around, dust gathered on the plastic leaves. In Pandora’s opinion, using fake plants when the gorgeous real ones existed was crazy.

“Well, I feel underdressed,” Lucy said, looking down at her jeans, trainers, and long-sleeved tee featuring a rock band that was secretly made up of werewolves.

“Bride,” Sylvia croaked at Pandora, waving toward the raised platform, wanting her to climb up onto it.What, to be inspected and picked apart?

More so than lying to her family and to Victor, this was the part of the whole charade that bothered her the most. Being the center of attention. Having all eyes on her.

“We should have had some drinks before we came,” Lucy murmured. “If it makes you feel better, she’s probably going to say all sorts of things about me getting my wolf scent all over the gowns.”

“It doesn’t,” Pandora said, sighing, then going up on the platform, trying not to squirm under not only Sylvia’s inspection, but her mother’s, aunt’s, and cousin’s.

The only ones looking at her truly fondly right then were Ravenna and Lucy.

As expected, Sylvia eyed her from all angles before joining her, using a measuring tape to judge every inch of her body. Then she grabbed several styles that “could possibly be suitable” and shoved her into a dressing room.

Blessedly alone, if for just a moment, Pandora sank down on the floor, reaching into her handbag for her mobile and snapping a picture of herself with a background of endless gowns.

Current Status: Drowning in silk, satin, and lace while being told how wrong my body is for every one of these dresses. Tell me you’re doing something more fun.

She shot off the text before she could think better of it, shoving her mobile in her bag after, then stripped out of her dress to slip into the first gown.

That one was, apparently, too tight.

The next made her look too “hippy”.

The third reminded all the women of a nightgown.

She was debating which one to try on next when her mobile started ringing in her bag.

She dug for it, saw Victor’s name, and swiped her finger across the screen.

“Oh, hey,” she said, cringing at how lame an opener that was.