Page 54

Chapter

Fifty-Four

Morgan

“ W e don’t have a moment to lose!” Serge tugged on my arm, practically dragging me down the Promenade walkway. He wore a butter yellow suit with wide, velvet lapels, but the platform boots that clomped on the cobblestones were bright orange.

"I still don’t know what we’re doing,” I protested, stumbling to keep up with his surprisingly quick pace.

My eyes were still puffy from crying myself to sleep after my conversation with Tivek, and I hadn't bothered with much more than splashing cold water on my face when Serge had burst into my suite that morning.

"Details, details!" He flapped a hand dismissively. "You didn’t have plans today anyway.”

I sighed but didn't resist. He was right. I didn’t have plans, and getting out was better than staying in my suite, wallowing in regret and second-guessing myself. I'd spent the entire morning wondering if I'd spoken too hastily to Tivek.

I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing in telling him to take the promotion. I'd followed my mother's advice, the words she'd drilled into me throughout my childhood. I'd put myself and my career first instead of sacrificing it for a man. No one could argue that was a bad thing, right?

So why didn't I feel better?

The promenade was busier than it had been the previous evening, filled with couples strolling arm in arm, small groups of women laughing together, and the occasional Drexian male looking slightly overwhelmed by it all.

Soft music drifted from hidden speakers, mingling with the gentle splash of fountains and the murmur of conversation.

"Here we are!" Serge announced, coming to such an abrupt halt that I nearly crashed into him.

I looked up at the storefront before us, my eyes widening at the fabric awning and glass windows that displayed mannequins in opulent wedding dresses. "A bridal salon? Serge, I'm not a bride."

"Obviously," he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "But the latest shipment of gowns has arrived, and I need a human perspective."

Before I could protest further, he pushed open the door, triggering a delicate chime that echoed through the elegant space.

The salon's interior was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting prisms of light across plush cream carpeting.

The walls were lined with white gowns in every conceivable style, from sleek and modern to voluminous and traditional.

Glass cases displayed glittering tiaras, delicate veils, and jewelry that caught the light with every movement.

It looked exactly like the high-end bridal boutiques back on Earth, without a single indication that we were on an alien space station. The illusion was only broken when a green-skinned attendant emerged from a back room, her four-fingered hands clasped in front of her and her antennae bobbling.

"Serge! We've been expecting you," she said, her voice melodic. She turned to me with a slight bow. "And you must be Morgan. Welcome to our humble boutique.”

"The latest ship of tributes has been delayed," Serge explained, already browsing through the racks.

"But the new gowns arrived right on schedule.

" He shot me a pleading look. "I need a human to give me honest opinions.

Past tributes have complained that the gowns I select are too.

.." He crinkled his nose and wiggled his fingers in the air, searching for the word.

"Flashy?" I suggested, noticing his hands linger over the gowns with the most amount of glitz.

"Exactly!" He sniffed indignantly. "As if there's such a thing."

I sighed, resigning myself to the situation. Maybe this would be a good distraction from the hollow ache in my chest. “I’m no expert, but I’ll help if I can.”

The green-skinned attendant clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! I'll bring out our newest selections."

She disappeared into a back room, returning moments later with an armful of gowns, each encased in a protective covering that didn't quite hide the fabric beneath. She hung them on an empty rack and hurried to take them out of their casings.

"First, we have 'Celestial Whisper,'" she announced, spinning around and holding a dress in front of her.

The sleek column of ivory satin with a high neck and a dramatic open back was a masterpiece of simplicity. No embellishments, no beading, just luxurious fabric that draped like flowing water.

“Boring," Serge declared immediately.

I shook my head. "No, it's elegant. Sometimes less is more."

The attendant nodded approvingly and set the gown aside, revealing the next one. "This is 'Nebula Dream.'"

This massive ball gown had a skirt so voluminous it seemed to be as wide as it was tall. The bodice was completely covered in crystals that shifted color when the light hit them, and the tulle overlay of the skirt was embedded with tiny sequins.

Serge clapped his hands. “Now that's a wedding dress!"

I wrinkled my nose. "It's a bit much. It’s so ornate it might outshine the bride.”

Serge harrumphed but waved for us to continue.

The third gown fell somewhere between the first two. It was an A-line silhouette with delicate lace sleeves and subtle beading that caught the light just enough to create interest without overwhelming the bride.

"This one," I said immediately. "It's perfect."

Serge made a noncommittal sound, but I noticed he didn't dismiss it outright.

As a mermaid gown with dramatic ruffles cascading from the knees was revealed, I found my thoughts drifting. Would I ever wear one of these? Would I ever be a bride?

I'd grown up being told that marriage was nothing but a noose around a woman's neck, a trap that would choke the ambition and independence out of me. Yet I'd seen firsthand how my friends at the academy had found mates who not only accepted their ambitions but helped them soar even higher.

Could Tivek have been one of those partners? Someone who would have supported me, challenged me, helped me become even better than I was on my own? If I'd given him the chance, would we have found a way to make it work?

But it was too late now. I'd pushed him away, convincing myself it was for the best. For my career. For my future. For the dreams my mother had sacrificed and wanted me to fulfill.

"Darling, are you even listening?" Serge's voice cut through my mental wanderings. "I asked what you thought of the neckline on this one."

"Sorry," I mumbled, forcing myself to focus on the gown before me. "It's nice, but I still prefer the one before it.”

"Hmph," Serge replied, clearly unconvinced by my taste.

The attendant smiled indulgently at our disagreement. "We have one more special piece that just arrived. It's quite unique."

She disappeared again, returning with a dress that clearly couldn’t fit in a bag. Serge gasped, and I couldn’t help joining him, but for entirely different reasons, I was sure.

The dress was a blinding, hot pink confection, with more ruffles, sequins, and beads than I'd ever seen on a single garment.

“Well knock me over with a feather!” Serge swooned, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "It's magnificent!"

I stared at the gown, trying to imagine any bride willingly wearing something so outrageous on their wedding day.

"It's certainly one of a kind,” I managed diplomatically.

As Serge circled the dress, cooing over every gaudy detail, a small smile tugged at my lips despite my melancholy.

At least I wouldn't have to worry about Serge planning a wedding for me. If I ever did decide to get married, I’d make sure the Gatazoid was nowhere near the planning process. And that was a big if.

For now, there was my career and my friends.

And nothing else, I thought with a resigned gulp. I’d made sure of that.