still gave her curves. A long fall of sheer fabric cascaded from the back, almost touching the floor. Along with the fancy necklace

and sparkly bracelet (both lent from Amelie’s no doubt vast collec-

tion), and with her hair worn up and fixed with glittering pins, she felt like a princess.

She felt like a woman, and somehow she’d never thought of

herself that way before. She’d never stopped being a girl, had she?

Well, she had, but gradually, so gradually that she hadn’t even no-

ticed.

Her mother was sitting in the corner of the room, and now she

came forward to put her arms around Claire and rock her slowly,

side to side. “You look amazing, honey,” she said. “I could not be

happier for you.”

“Really?” Claire turned to look at her, trying to remember not to

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cry. Eve had been very strict about that rule, because of the makeup.

“I didn’t think you totally approved of Shane. You or Dad.”

“He’s . . . changed,” her mother said. “And you love him. And I

think your dad’s smart enough to know that you’re the second most

stubborn person in the world, and he’d be wise not to cross you.”

“Only the second?”

“Well, you did get it from me. Someday, when you’re older, I’ll

tell you all about how I convinced your father to marry me,” her

mom said. She picked up the bouquet from the table— red roses

wrapped with white ribbons. Eve’s bouquet, of white roses wrapped

with red ribbons, beautifully complemented her totally nontradi-

tional red dress. Of course it looked awesome on her and even

showed off her tattoos well. “If you’re ready, dear, I just heard the knock on the door.”

“Mom—” Claire didn’t know what to say, or what to do, so

she just lunged forward and hugged her mother. Hard. Tears

pricked at her eyes, but she forced them away. Because, mascara. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetie,” her mother said, and kissed her cheek,

then rubbed the lipstick away in an absent gesture so familiar it

melted Claire’s heart. “I’m so proud of you. Always.”

She opened the door, and Claire almost couldn’t take the step,

except that her dad was standing right there, looking tall and trim and— for the first time in a long time— healthy, despite his heart

condition. Maybe it was the suit he was wearing, or just the plea-

sure of the day, but she’d take it— she’d take every day she had

with her parents gladly.

Her dad gave her the biggest, most amazing smile she’d ever

seen, and then offered her his arm.

It wasn’t so much like walking as gliding through a dream . . .

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Rachel Caine

Eve was walking ahead of her, vivid in her dramatic red dress with

its train. And she had a vampire giving her away, remarkably