Chapter 8 A Time Alone

Isla POV

The changing room was small and quiet as I stepped in with the dress in my hands.

The consultant helped me into it without speaking, fastening the back with careful hands. The satin settled against my body, cool and smooth.

I stood before the small mirror inside.

I barely recognised myself.

The mermaid cut followed every curve I had spent years hiding under loose shirts and safe choices. The bow at the shoulders was dramatic. The fabric caught the light like it had somewhere important to be.

I pushed my glasses up and exhaled slowly.

Then I stepped out.

I walked toward my family, the consultant following quietly behind me. They were all settled, eyes on their phones, already moved on from waiting.

I stepped up onto the platform.

I heard my mother's sharp inhale before I saw anyone's face.

My father looked up from his phone and went completely still, staring with open surprise.

And Ronan.

He had gone very still. I could see his gaze in the mirror, his eyes slowly tracing the dress where it clung to my body. I focused on giving instructions to the consultant. I had spent years being quietly pleased when he looked at me like that.

Not anymore.

I turned slightly and that was when I noticed Vivienne.

Her hands had gone pale where they gripped each other in her lap. Her eyes were fixed on Ronan's expression, her jaw tight.

She caught herself quickly.

"Oh my goodness." She stood and came to take my hand warmly. "The dress suits you so well." She paused, tilting her head with gentle concern. "But are you sure you like it? You know how you prefer not to be the centre of attention. It's a bit overwhelming don't you think?"

"I agree," my mother said immediately, finding her footing behind Vivienne's lead. "It's too much for you. Go pick another one."

"I'm picking this one," I said pleasantly, turning to Ronan. "What do you think darling?"

Ronan blinked out of his daze. "What?"

"Isn't it too much for Isla, Ronan?" My mother pressed. "I don't understand why she wants to upstage you."

Ronan's jaw tightened. "The dress is fine."

My mother's eyebrows lifted slightly before she rearranged herself into a respectful smile. "Of course. Whatever you think is best."

I almost smiled.

Soon enough they would know exactly what he was.

"Good," I said simply. "We should wrap this up. I have work to finish."

Vivienne glanced at me. Just for a moment her eyes were completely cold before she covered it smoothly.

"What about the bridesmaids dresses?" Vivienne said lightly.

I glanced at her from the platform, still in the dress, the satin smooth against my body.

"You've been a bridesmaid so many times I'm sure you know exactly what works." I smiled pleasantly. "I trust your judgment completely."

A beat.

"The payment goes on my future husband's card." I turned back to the consultant. "Could you help me out of this please."

I didn't wait for a response before walking back toward the changing room.

But I caught it anyway.

The smile staying perfectly on Vivienne's face while something underneath it went very still. Her eyes following me with that particular quiet that meant she was recalculating.

She had been a bridesmaid four times.

Always the dress. Never the aisle.

And I had just made sure the whole room was thinking about that without saying it directly.

I stepped into the changing room and let the door close behind me.

The smile I had been holding back finally came.

----

We finally finished the fitting and I couldn't wait to get home.

I needed to start thinking about a proper escape plan. Not just from my family but from the office too. From Gerald. From Lucian. From all of it.

I just wanted a cottage somewhere quiet. A garden. Trees. Myself and no other human ever making me feel like less again.

Proper plans needed to take place.

We stepped out of the boutique into the afternoon light.

"That was fun." My father smiled, shaking Ronan's hand warmly. "We really appreciate you making the time. We know how busy you are."

"Once he's married into the family we can see him practically every day," Vivienne said smoothly, appearing at my father's side.

Whoever brought me back clearly had a sense of humour.

"Ronan you must come for dinner," my mother said. "We've made so much food. Come now, straight from here."

Ronan stood beside me and said nothing for a moment.

Then "Not tonight. Thank you."

I blinked.

He always said yes. He loved the warmth they gave him, the deference, the way my parents looked at him like he was something. He had never once turned down an invitation from them.

"I need to drop Isla home," he said. "We have something to take care of together."

He took my hand.

"Yes," I said carefully. "We do."

"Of course, we won't keep you." My father turned to me with a small smile. "I'm glad you picked that dress. It was different from what you'd usually choose." He paused. "I suppose you're becoming a new woman."

I turned my face away.

He meant it kindly. He always did. It had never been enough.

He noticed. I saw his expression shift; surprise, then something close to guilt but he let it pass without a word. His eyes followed me with a few uncertain glances as Ronan steered me toward the car.

"We'll see you later," Ronan said, already moving.

I let him pull me forward.

I glanced back once.

Vivienne stood behind my parents, her hands folded neatly, watching Ronan's hand in mine.

Just that. Just watching.

He opened the passenger door without a word and I got in. He took the driver's seat and pulled out of the lot before anyone had finished waving goodbye.

The silence in the car sat differently from this morning.

I watched his hands on the wheel and said nothing.

In six years I had always known what Ronan wanted from me. His moods, his needs, his expectations. I had learned to read all of it without being told.

I didn't know anymore.

And that made him dangerous.