Chapter 23: The Fitting

The sketchbook hit the floor, and for one endless moment, no one moved.

Hallie stared at Seth. Seth stared at Hallie. The two women with him exchanged confused glances, clearly sensing they'd walked into something they didn't understand.

Then Hallie's training kicked in—two years of professional smiles, of handling difficult customers, of never letting anyone see what she was really feeling. She bent down, picked up her sketchbook, and straightened with her customer service mask firmly in place.

"Welcome to Veils of Ivory," she said, her voice steady despite the earthquake happening inside her chest. "I'm Hallie. How can I help you today?"

Seth's eyes widened slightly—at the professional tone, at the complete lack of recognition she was projecting, at the wall she'd just erected between them. He opened his mouth, but the blonde woman spoke first.

"Hi! I'm Chloe." She bounced forward, oblivious to the tension crackling through the air. "I have an appointment for a fitting? My friend recommended this place, said you have the most amazing selection—"

"Of course." Hallie pulled up the schedule on her tablet, grateful for something to look at besides Seth's face. "Chloe... Bennett? Appointment for bridal consultation?"

"That's me!" Chloe beamed. "And this is my sister Megan, and this—" She gestured at Seth, who was still standing frozen near the door. "—is Seth. He's the best man. He offered to help carry things and give opinions, which is either very sweet or very stupid, I haven't decided which."

Seth's voice, when it finally came, was rough. "Chloe's fiancé is my best friend. I'm just... helping out."

Just helping out. The words landed in Hallie's chest like stones. Of course he was. Why would he be here otherwise? Why would he be anywhere near her, after five years of silence, unless coincidence had forced them together?

"Well." Hallie's smile didn't waver. "Let's get started. Chloe, if you'll follow me to the fitting area, we have several options pulled based on your preferences. Your party can wait in the seating area just there."

She gestured toward a cluster of plush chairs near the windows, strategically placed far from the fitting rooms. Megan nodded and headed that way, already pulling out her phone. But Seth didn't move.

"Seth?" Chloe looked at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He tore his gaze away from Hallie with visible effort. "Yeah, fine. Just... nice shop."

"It really is." Chloe was already drifting toward the racks of gowns, distracted by the sheer volume of white. "Hallie, you have no idea how excited I am. I've been dreaming about this dress since I was twelve—"

Hallie let Chloe's chatter wash over her as she led her toward the fitting area. She didn't look back at Seth. Didn't let herself. If she looked back, the mask would crack, and everything she'd spent five years building would come crashing down.

The fitting room was small but elegant, all soft lighting and mirrored walls. Hallie helped Chloe out of her clothes and into the first gown—a classic ballgown with a sweetheart neckline and enough tulle to fill a small room.

"Oh," Chloe breathed, turning to face the mirror. "Oh, it's—"

"Beautiful," Hallie supplied automatically. "The silhouette suits you. How does it feel?"

While Chloe twirled and admired herself, Hallie's mind raced. Seth was here. Seth was here, in her shop, in her space, after five years of nothing. Five years of wondering, of hurting, of slowly piecing herself back together. Five years of telling herself she was over it, that he was just a memory, that she didn't care anymore.

She'd been lying.

The truth was there in the way her hands shook slightly as she adjusted Chloe's train. In the way her heart was still pounding, minutes after seeing him. In the way she wanted to march out there and demand answers and also never speak to him again, both at once.

"This one's nice," Chloe said, pulling Hallie back to the present. "But I'm not sure it's the one, you know?"

"I know." Hallie's voice was steady. "Let's try the next one."

They went through six gowns over the next hour. Chloe tried on A-line and mermaid, sheath and trumpet, lace and satin and something with so many beads Hallie's arms ached just looking at it. Through it all, Hallie was the perfect professional—attentive, helpful, utterly devoid of personality.

Every few minutes, she'd catch a glimpse of Seth through the doorway. He'd taken a seat in the waiting area, but he wasn't looking at his phone or the magazines on the table. He was watching the fitting room. Watching her.

Their eyes met once, briefly, and Hallie looked away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

"Number seven?" Chloe asked, oblivious.

"Number seven," Hallie confirmed.

Number seven was different.

It wasn't the style Chloe had requested—not the ballgown silhouette she'd been dreaming of since childhood. It was simpler: a fitted lace bodice with a flowing chiffon skirt, delicate cap sleeves, a back that dipped just low enough to be interesting without being scandalous.

Chloe put it on and went very still.

"Oh," she whispered.

Hallie understood. She'd seen this moment dozens of times—the moment a bride found her dress. It never got old.

"The lace is imported from France," she said quietly, stepping back to give Chloe space. "The skirt has seven layers of chiffon, each cut slightly differently so they move independently. The designer calls it 'walking on clouds.'"

Chloe's eyes were wet. "It's perfect. It's absolutely perfect."

"Do you want to show your party?"

Chloe nodded, unable to speak.

Hallie opened the door to the fitting area and gestured for Megan and Seth to come closer. Megan took one look at her sister and burst into tears. Seth walked up slowly, his eyes moving from Chloe to the dress to Hallie, always landing on Hallie.

"That's the one," he said quietly. "Right?"

Chloe nodded, laughing and crying at once. "It's the one."

Hallie stepped back, letting the family moment happen without her. This was the part of the job she loved—the joy, the connection, the rightness of someone finding exactly what they'd been looking for. But right now, she couldn't feel any of it. All she could feel was Seth's gaze on her, heavy with things she didn't want to examine.

The rest of the appointment passed in a blur. Measurements were taken, deposits were processed, future fittings were scheduled. Chloe hugged her on the way out, still glowing.

"Thank you so much, Hallie. You were amazing."

"It's my job." The automatic response. "Congratulations, Chloe. You're going to be a beautiful bride."

Megan followed Chloe out, chattering about celebratory drinks. But Seth lingered at the door, one hand on the frame, his eyes finding Hallie one last time.

"Hallie—" he started.

"Congratulations to your friend." Her voice was ice. "I'm sure the wedding will be lovely."

She turned away before he could respond, disappearing into the back room. Behind her, she heard the bell chime as the door finally closed.

In the back room, Hallie leaned against the wall and pressed her hands to her racing heart.

Five years. Five years of building walls, of moving forward, of convincing herself she was over it. And one look at his face had brought it all crashing down.

She was angry. God, she was so angry. Angry at him for leaving, for not contacting her, for walking back into her life like he had any right to be there. Angry at herself for still caring, for still feeling, for the way her heart had leapt when she saw him.

And underneath the anger, something else. Something she didn't want to name.

"Hallie?" Margaret's voice from the front. "You okay back there?"

Hallie took a breath. Then another. Straightened her spine and smoothed her expression into something presentable.

"Fine," she called back. "Just organizing the fitting room."

She stepped out of the back room and returned to work, the mask firmly in place.

But her hands were still shaking.

That night, she sat in her tiny apartment with her sketchbook open to a blank page. For hours, she just stared at it, pencil in hand, waiting for inspiration that wouldn't come.

All she could see was his face. All she could hear was his voice saying her name.

Hallie.

She closed the sketchbook and didn't open it again for three days.