Page 101 of Where the Roses Bloom

Before he could finish, I was bolting upright and flinging my arms around his neck. Silas stuttered, staggered a bit—but I hung on to my soon-to-be brother-in-law, resisting the impulse to sob.

“Silas…oh my god,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

“Well, try it on first,” he said gruffly, though I could hear the awkward laugh in his voice.

I took a step back and reached for the bundle—but he stopped me with a quiet, “Don’t. Not while I’m here.”

I froze.

“Don’t open it…not yet,” he added, gaze anywhere but on the dress. “I can’t—just not with me in the room.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Right. Of course.”

He gave a tight nod. “I’ll just…if it doesn’t fit, I’ll get it from you after the wedding.”

I reached out and gripped his hand before he could go.

“Silas…really, thank you so, so much.”

Silas gave a tight-lipped smile. “You’re welcome.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

Delilah let out a slow breath and blinked a few times, clearly shaking it off. Jasmine pressed a hand over her heart. June didn’t say anything…just picked the flower crown back up, fingers moving slowly as she kept weaving. I chewed on my lip until Delilah came over, putting her hand on my shoulder.

“You ready for this?” she asked.

My brow furrowed. “Are you…are you sure I should really wear it?”

June surprised me when she was the one to respond. “Yes,” she said. “You should wear it.”

She was still weaving her flower crown, looking at it thoughtfully. “I just….think it would be good for everyone. I think you need a dress, and I think Silas needs somebody to wear that dress and really, reallylive.”

Delilah blinked hard, then gave a fierce nod. “And you’re gonna look like a goddamn vision in it.”

Jasmine stood up, smoothing her hands over her jeans. “Want help getting it on?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

Delilah scoffed. “I mean—I’m sure it’s not that hard?—”

“I meant emotionally.”

June met my gaze. “You don’t have to force it—but ifyou’re willing, I think we should treat it like what it is: a garment with history and weight. So we name that weight, we acknowledge it, and then we reclaim it.”

I gave her a hesitant smile. “That a church thing?”

She returned it. “More of a therapy thing.”

Delilah cleared her throat and tugged at the edge of the bundle. “Okay…let’s see what we’re working with.”

She peeled back the top layer, revealing ivory lace as soft and fine as a butterfly wing, still wrapped in tissue like it had been waiting all these years for just this moment. The dress was flowy, tailored just at the waist with fine lace sleeves and a long, trailing skirt. I touched it, finding the fabric as soft as it looked.

“Mm,” Delilah whispered, her voice cracking a bit. “Yeah…this would have been her taste.”

I glanced up at her. “You two knew each other?”

She nodded. “They were high school sweethearts. We all went to Ashford County together.”