She measured me approximately a thousand times, adjusted the neckline, and spent an entire Sunday deciding between two nearly identical pieces of lace.
Three nights before the wedding, I found her still awake, carefully attaching tiny pearl buttons.
“Just a few more.”
“Paige, honey, you need to sleep.”
“Just a few more.”
“You said that two hours ago.”
She looked up, smiling.
“This is my gift to both of you. Without Colin, I never would’ve been able to make this with my own hands.”
She looked up.
I kissed the top of her head, suddenly unable to speak.
When she finally helped me try on the finished dress, every seam was perfect.
And as I looked at my daughter in the mirror, I knew no designer in the world could have made anything more precious.
Meanwhile, Joyce had become particularly enthusiastic about showing off her designer collection.
I started noticing.
