VD: Seven Year Itch (part 1)
Title: Seven Year Itch
Author:pith
Spoilers: VD (loosely includes Unseen)
Part: 1/2
Disclaimers: Characters and world belong to LJS. I wrote this during July's Camp NaNoWriMo, so it's sketchy.
Summary: Alaric's finally proposed to Meredith, but has the fabled seven-year itch set in before the couple has even wed?
Meredith Sulez had been 'engaged to be engaged' for quite some time, and in a committed relationship before that, so the sudden appearance of a ring on an otherwise average, nondescript Sunday afternoon gave her pause. Alaric even went through the paces: he got down on one knee, pulled the small velveteen ring box out of his pocket, and popped it open-although in his haste, he opened it facing himself instead of his fiancée. Bonnie might have said that was a sign, so Meredith wisely didn't tell her friends about Alaric's stammering proposal or how he had nearly knocked her over as he rose to his feet to kiss her.
"Let's see the ring!" Bonnie cooed for what felt like the hundredth time. Meredith wasn't used to being the centre of attention, so she wordlessly stuck her hand out over the café table again. "It's so you, Meredith. Understated but beautiful."
Elena grabbed her friend's hand and tilted it her way so the small diamond glittered in the ambient lighting. "Very discreet," Elena agreed, just the slightest hint of disapproval in her otherwise jovial voice. Elena had come a long way from her queen bee days, but she still had very firm beliefs on weddings and their accompanying jewellery. In their younger years, she had confided in Meredith that nothing less than a diamond the size of her thumbnail would do, and she had even started cutting pictures out of magazines so she could start designing her perfect wedding in advance.
Matt, on the other hand, wasn't much for fancy and formal, but he did his best. "It looks really nice on you, Mere. It's very classy."
"Thank you, Matt." Meredith had already shown the ring to Bonnie and Elena dozens of times and had thanked them for their compliments, but she knew Matt was at least making an effort to understand all the fuss.
"You should be able to wear it when you're out hunting too," Stefan pointed out. Meredith noticed him sneaking occasional glances at Elena, as if he were wondering when his girlfriend was going to start hinting for an engagement ring of her own. Considering that Elena had drank water from the Fountain of Eternal Youth and Life, that seemed like more of a commitment than any ring or legal certificate could hope to be.
"He knew I didn't want anything flashy," Meredith agreed, trying not to sound defensive. She and Elena had already had the argument, and for now, it seemed like her best friend was going to let it slide-at least in public.
"About time." The intrusion of the unexpected voice made all the friends go still, Matt nearly spilling his coffee on his lap as Damon sauntered up behind Meredith's chair. "It's only been what . . . seven years now?" A sardonic smile stretched his lips as he crouched beside the huntress and took her left hand to examine the ring there, turning her wrist this way and that in order to utilize the light. "Isn't that when the fabled itch is supposed to set in? And you haven't even taken vows yet." His grin turned wicked. "Such possibilities."
Meredith yanked her hand back. "Alaric and I have been committed for years now, not that it's any of your business. And this ring," she added, practically shoving her left hand in his face, "is merely an extension of that. He travels so often that it's safer if we're married for legal reasons."
"All hail Meredith Sulez, Queen of Practicality," Damon murmured, straightening up and walking around the table to drop into a seat next to his brother. Even when he turned his attention to others-teasing Bonnie about when she might be getting an engagement ring of her own, bugging his brother reflexively-Damon always kept looking back at Meredith, and she wished she couldn't still feel the lingering tingle of his skin on hers.
*
The engagement party had mostly been Alaric's idea, although Bonnie never turned down a party and Elena was always interested in an opportunity to dress up. Clearly outvoted, Meredith reluctantly agreed, on the condition that her friends kept it small. Her parents already knew, as did Alaric's, so it was merely a way to share the news with colleagues, co-workers, and their larger circle of casual friends.
"Maybe I should be a party planner," Bonnie mused as she came up to Meredith's side during a lull in the impromptu receiving line. Alaric was now deep in conversation with one of his advisors, so Bonnie pulled her friend to the side. "I'd be good at it, don't you think?" Bonnie had changed her major several times over in college and still hadn't found quite the right fit. She had settled on education and was now working as a teacher's assistant for a kindergarten class, but working with children all day wasn't the joyous experience she had anticipated. "You don't need a degree to plan parties, do you?" The thought of more schooling was clearly unappealing. Of the four friends from Fell's Church, Meredith was the only one who had extended her education beyond her bachelor's degree.
"No," Meredith assured her friend. "You just need to be creative and outgoing and adaptable-qualities you have in spades." She gave Bonnie a sudden hug. Being around so many casual acquaintances-classmates, co-workers, and the like-made Meredith appreciate her true friends all the more. "You'd be brilliant at it, Bonnie. I would totally hire you for my wedding."
Bonnie lightly smacked her friend's arm. "Oh, you. As if I'd charge you! I'd plan your wedding for free!" Then she sidled closer. "I still get to be a bridesmaid, right? I know Elena's the maid of honour, but. . . ."
"Of course you do." Meredith drew Bonnie close again and gave her another hug, resting her chin in the smaller girl's curls. Normally Bonnie's innate insecurity irritated her, but she found it strangely endearing today. Perhaps it was because it was a problem she knew how to fix. Looking around at the chattering group, Meredith felt strangely out of place, even though she knew most of the people in attendance. Listening to colleagues talk about mortgages and saving up for their children's post-secondary education made Meredith feel out of her depth; she would prefer to travel before buying a house, and she wasn't sure if she ever wanted children. "Bon," she said impulsively, lowering her voice, "I'm just going to step out for some air. Could you cover for me? I'll only be ten minutes or so, I promise."
Bonnie patted Meredith's arm knowingly. "Sure thing. I think everyone's arrived anyway, so you've probably greeted everyone already, just like a good bride-to-be."
"Thanks." Just hearing bride-to-be made Meredith flinch a bit, and she wound her way through the various clusters of people to get to the back door of the community hall. Since she wasn't sure if it would lock behind her, she propped it open with an old milk crate that had clearly been used as a seat by the smoking crowd.
"That seven-year-itch is a pesky thing, I hear." Meredith whirled to see Damon leaning against the wall, seeming out of place in the bright afternoon; she associated him with darkness and shadows and places you were better off not going. "It would certainly explain why you've been so touchy lately-"
"I have not been touchy," Meredith snapped, immediately wishing she had stayed silent. She had been on edge lately, but it had very little to do with her impending nuptials, or so she told herself. "I'm just really busy, that's all, and I haven't been sleeping well."
"I could help with the sleeping part." Damon pushed off from the wall and took a step closer, still keeping his distance. "Have you set a date yet? I haven't received my invitation yet, and I can't imagine you, the very essence of propriety, would be so rude as not to invite me. I have saved your life, after all. Surely that gains me a seat at the blessed event?"
Meredith shook her head, trying to walk off some of her agitation. In the small alley, though, there weren't many places she could go that wouldn't put her within Damon's reach. "Alaric's not sure when his parents could get here. Why the sudden interest anyway? Are you planning on pulling a Maleficent and cursing my wedding or something?"
"You really don't know." Damon's voice was so soft that Meredith wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly at first, and by the time she had figured out what he had actually said, he was right in front of her, cradling her chin in his hand. "I'm trying to figure out how much time I have to scratch that itch of yours, that's all."
"I don't need you for anything," Meredith said through clenched teeth, trying to move her jaw as little as possible so as to minimize his touch. His fingers just curved around her neck, though, slipping into her hair while his thumb rested on her earlobe. "I have to go." She wished she had sounded more confident, more forceful, but the prolonged proximity to the vampire was doing strange things to her pulse.
"You told Bonnie ten minutes," Damon corrected with a soft smile. "That means I still have eight." He leaned in so slowly that Meredith had plenty of time to turn away, and yet the kiss still felt like it came without warning. Damon pressed closer, the collar of his leather jacket rasping against her collarbones. His free hand settled on her hip for a moment before moving around to the small of her back, pressing her close.
Meredith felt like she had been submerged in a pool of warm water, the temperature so perfectly attuned that it was hard to tell where her body stopped and the water began. Her body aligned smoothly with Damon's; there were none of the usual first kiss blunders, like noses getting in the way or stepping on the other's toes. When she realized that her fingers were tangled in the vampire's hair, she forced herself back, stumbling. "Don't ever do that again," she said with more vehemence than she truly felt.
Damon looked strangely aggrieved, as if she had accused him of some crime he found abhorrent. "I didn't influence you, Meredith. I didn't compel you."
"I know." If Damon seemed oddly hurt, Meredith's defensiveness was equally off-putting. "I never said you did. I . . . I let you get away with it, but that's the only time." She staggered back to the door, picking up the milk crate as if she could use it as a weapon. "Don't try it again, Damon. I swear." For all her bluster, Meredith was still too flustered to command her usual grace, and she tripped over the threshold.
The vampire swooped in and easily caught her around the waist before she could fall. "As you wish, Meredith. Next time, I'll ask, though I think the answer might be more in my favour than you seem to think." He planted the lightest of kisses on her cheek before stepping back. "You might want to check your lipstick before you rejoin your fiancé." With that, Damon turned and walked back down the alley, turned the corner, and was gone.
Meredith hurried to the women's bathroom and, after checking that no one was inside, locked the main door behind her. Wrenching the cold water tap, she cupped a hand under the sputtering stream and drank down several mouthfuls before ripping paper towels out of the dispenser and lining the neckline of her dress. Then she splashed water on her face, grateful that she hadn't been wearing much makeup. Idly, she noted that her lipstick wasn't bad at all, but she still touched it up anyway. After giving her head a firm shake, she tossed all the damp towels in the almost overflowing garbage can and strode back into the party. Might as well get it over with, she told herself, spotting Alaric and heading for him. "Hey. What did I miss?" she asked, nudging his arm.
"Dr. Manning and Dr. Niehaus here were just telling me about a teaching position at Berkeley that would be perfect." Alaric introduced Meredith to his two colleagues and started filling her in on the potential position. All the while, Meredith slid a hand back into her hair and pulled lightly, trying to clear her thoughts. All it did was remind her of Damon's touch, how strangely gentle he had been with her, and how the seven-year-itch was starting to seem like more of a reality every day.
*
After what had happened at the engagement party, Meredith wasn't sure a bridal shower or a bachelorette party was a good idea, but Bonnie and Elena had insisted-Bonnie especially so, since she was now determined to start a party-planning empire. The bridal shower turned out to be a strange affair. Gabriella, Meredith's mother, was called away on urgent business at the last minute and was unable to attend, so it was just Bonnie, Elena, Shay-at Bonnie's insistence, since Zander wanted them to get along better-and some of Meredith's friends from both law school and work. Weirder still was the fact that she had done a head count, and there were more presents on the table than there were attendees.
Meredith's practiced smile definitely got a workout that night. The people from university or work who didn't know her as well were the ones who got her raunchier bridal shower gifts, like sex manuals, flavoured condoms and lubricants, and edible underwear. Bonnie and Elena, both knowing Meredith's actual likes and dislikes, got her presents more geared towards her personality; one of the older attendees had given her a surprisingly thoughtful gift of an heirloom quilt.
The more presents Meredith unwrapped, the more conversations sprouted up, so as the gift pile dwindled, less and less attention was placed upon her, especially when the alcohol started flowing freely. By the time she got to the unmarked present, only Bonnie and Elena were really paying attention to her. Bonnie had a pen trained over a pad of paper, dutifully taking notes so Meredith could send out thank-you cards afterwards. "Who's that one from, Meredith?" She now started doing a mental tally and came to the same conclusion Meredith had at the start of the party. "Did someone get you two things?"
Elena shook her head. "I don't recall seeing anyone come in with a red bag. Is there a card in there?"
"Let me check." Meredith fished around the blooms of tissue paper, grimacing when her fingers skated over a ridge of lace-a disturbing skimpy ridge of lace. She finally found the corner of a small card and she brought it up. You don't wear nearly enough red, little huntress. D~ "It's from Delphine," Meredith said quickly, snapping the card shut and stuffing it back in the bag. "French exchange student in my ethics class. I forgot that she had dropped it off early because she had to work tonight. I really shouldn't open it without her here," she added, hoping her friends couldn’t see through the blatant lie.
"Okay." Bonnie looked disappointed, but gamely wrote Delphine at the end of the list, followed by a question mark.
The party started slowly dissolving after another hour, guests peeling off in ones and twos to go home. Bonnie and Elena stayed behind to help clean up, but after midnight, Meredith was finally alone. The lovely heirloom quilt had been stashed in the linen closet to await colder weather, while she had dumped the arsenal of sex paraphernalia into a large box. If nothing else, it would be worth a chuckle when Alaric got back home from his trip to Turkey.
Now that she was alone, Meredith felt safe opening the bag that was clearly from Damon. Most of its weight came from the tissue paper, and the small bits of lace she pulled out eventually resolved themselves into a skimpy matching set of bra and panties. She jammed the card from Damon deep into her book bag so Alaric wouldn't accidentally happen upon it, then turned back to the underwear. As the card suggested, they were both red-but not the bright garish red of so much attention-grabbing lingerie. It was a deep red, like that of garnets or pomegranates. Maybe it was the after effects of the free-flowing wine or the gratuitous girl talk, but Meredith had a sudden urge to try the ridiculous bits of lace on, if only just to see what the fuss about lingerie was about. Most of her bras and panties were generic and practical-more for function than fashion.
She tried the panties first, stripping off her dress and bra and underwear and pulling the scrap of lace and silk up her long legs. The front barely covered her pubic triangle; the back was bikini style, but it covered little more than a thong would. I can't imagine wearing these all day, Meredith thought, turning in front of her mirror. She had never seen the point to fancy underwear and Alaric had never complained about what she wore, so she'd never bothered. Still, she could at least see what the set looked like.
If the bra was a demi-cup, Meredith would be surprised. What there was of a cup barely reached her nipples, and she had to fight the urge to continually scoop her breasts back into the cloth. I wouldn't last five minutes in this! she thought-then, with a slight smile, she had to admit that was probably the point.
A sharp rap at her window nearly made Meredith trip over her own feet, and she grabbed one of Alaric's button-up shirts from the laundry basket to cover herself before going to investigate. Part of her wasn't the least bit surprised to see Damon standing on her balcony. "You got my present, I see," the vampire smiled when she opened the curtains and pushed up the lower half of the window.
Rather than worry about exactly how much the vampire had seen, Meredith simply nodded. "Highly impractical, lacking in substance-it had Damon Salvatore written all over it." She crossed her arms over her chest, the demi bra making her feel more self-conscious than ever.
"You know, it is customary to model anything you get as a gift." Backlit by the alley lights, Damon looked more mysterious than ever.
"I'm not inviting you in to see me in my underwear," Meredith said resolutely.
Damon nodded sagely. "A young woman can't be too careful in these times-but I don't recall asked to be invited in, either."
Meredith laughed. "I'm hardly going to go out on my balcony in my underwear!" Strangely, the thought of rehashing her earlier demand for him to leave her alone never occurred to her. The kiss at the engagement party seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Then show me here." Damon positioned himself in front of the window so no one would be able to see past him.
It's not like he can reach in and touch me, Meredith reasoned, letting her arms drop to her sides. Then she pulled the shirt open just enough to give the vampire a glimpse of her mostly nude body.
The sheer hunger in Damon's eyes made Meredith suddenly wish there weren't a window and a magical prohibition separating them. "You're gorgeous," he said simply, the words thick with longing. Where other men might expound on her smooth curves and long legs, Damon let his admiring gaze speak for him instead, his eyes roaming up and down her body until Meredith started to squirm. "I was right: You should wear more red."
Meredith chanced a glance down at herself and had to admit that though she still thought the lingerie was ridiculous, it did have a certain allure. "You could have just bought me a shirt-you know, something I'd actually wear."
Damon's wicked grin came back, but the haze of lust never quite left his eyes. "Oh, you'll wear these. You'll be ashamed of them at first and tuck them away in some drawer where Alaric will never look. But then you'll try them on again when you're alone, maybe even wear them around the house until one night, you want to wear them out, just to see how it feels." He dropped into a crouch then, peering up at her through the open window. "And I intend to enjoy every minute of that night."
Before Meredith could reply, Damon turned into a crow and flew away. She quickly slammed the window shut, locked it, and drew the curtains-but, to her surprise and chagrin, she didn't change right away. She put laundry in the wash and worked on a pro bono case and even emailed Alaric about her bridal shower, eventually falling asleep in the lingerie before she knew it, dreaming of dark eyes and darker desires.
*
Even though she had intended to throw Damon's gift of skimpy lingerie in the garbage, Meredith never did. On the contrary, she found herself wearing the set on days when she needed confidence and courage, or when she just wanted to feel dressed up. She kept them hidden from Alaric, but the more she wore the matching red bra and panties, the more she felt like going to a luxury lingerie store and buying herself another nice set-though perhaps one with a bit more coverage.
The day of her dress fitting was certainly an occasion to need both confidence and courage, but she didn't wear the red set; the idea of a bunch of strange women-no matter how kind and well-intentioned they were-seeing her in that set when her fiancé had not just felt wrong. Then she realized that the only person who had seen her in the lingerie had been Damon, and that wasn't something she wanted to think about for very long.
There ended up only being one attendant, the seamstress herself, but Meredith didn't mind. She rather liked the quiet atmosphere. Part of her regretting not asking Bonnie and Elena along, but so much of her wedding had felt like a communal party, and she wanted this small slice for herself. "You could pull off a bright white beautifully, of course," Mrs. Webster said, "but a nice antique ivory would also look lovely with your skin tone. Or you could go with something less traditional, less Western. Red is becoming very popular. Some young women even use graduation gowns to cut down on costs."
Meredith wasn't looking for anything extravagant, but she also knew her mother would be deeply disappointed if she didn't have a white gown. "I think I'll stick with white or ivory or a really pale grey in terms of colour," she allowed, "but I'm open when it comes to dress style. The big poofy skirt isn't really my look."
"Nor should it be." Mrs. Webster motioned Meredith up onto a little pedestal and walked around her client. "You have a beautiful figure. Very graceful legs." The seamstress peered up at Meredith's shoulders. "And exceptional posture. Did you take ballet as a child?"
"A little bit. It's more from martial arts," Meredith conceded, struggling to stay still under the woman's assessing gaze.
"Ah. Your parents wanted you to be able to defend yourself. Very wise, very wise. You never know who to trust these days. Why, just the other day, I read that there was a serial killer posing as a cab driver, and he'd lure women into his car with the promise of a free ride." Mrs. Webster clucked her tongue. "I have a few prototypes that I think would suit you very well. I'll bring them in for you. My girls and I can make any sort of adjustments you would like. You can get undressed now. Bra off too, for the time being; a lot of the dresses have custom necklines or shelf bras now."
"Okay." Meredith stepped down off the pedestal and into the adjoining change room, shedding her clothes and folding them in a tidy pile before slipping into the knee-length robe that hung from an antique hook. A few moments later, the seamstress knocked on the dressing room door and handed her a sleek cream-coloured dress. "Thank you," Meredith said, taking the dress and ducking back into the spacious dressing room. She left the robe on top of her clothes and stepped into the silken gown, holding the bodice close to her chest since she couldn't zip up the back. With her other hand, she opened the door and then held up the skirt as she stepped back up onto the pedestal.
"Oh, that's very chic." Mrs. Webster nodded with approval, fastening up the zipper and making a few tugs on the bodice so it fit properly. "You look very elegant for your age, my dear."
"Thank you," Meredith murmured, examining her reflection. For a wild moment, she wished she could go back to the Dark Dimension and get one of Lady Ulma's creations, but just the thought of the Dark Dimension made her think of Damon and how she had been forced to donate blood to him there. "It is lovely," she conceded, "but it looks a little more like a bridesmaid's dress to me. I don't want something ultra-traditional, but I'd like something with a little more. . . ."
"Bearing? Heft? Yes, I agree." Mrs. Webster handed her another dress, this one the colour of cinnamon and sugar combined. "I thought that hue would go beautifully with your skin. You have such a clear complexion."
Meredith took the dress silently, slipping out of the first one quickly and handing it back out to the seamstress. She wasn't quite sure how to respond to the woman's barrage of compliments, so she got dressed quickly and went back out onto the pedestal. Just as Mrs. Webster had predicted, the colour did look magnificent on her, as if she were clad in layers of diamond and amber brown topaz. "I love the colour," she said slowly, doing an experimental twirl after the seamstress had fastened the back, "but I imagine my mother would fight me on it tooth and nail."
"Ah, yes." Mrs. Webster nodded knowingly. "I see that all too often. The mother wants something traditional, the daughter wants something more modern, more sexy. This next one might just tick all the boxes. Give it a try."
Meredith took the third dress, daunted when she saw a rack with at least ten more dresses on it. Eloping looks really enticing right about now, she thought with a gulp, slipping out of the old dress and handing it out to the seamstress. A strange thump made Meredith stop pulling the new dress into place. "Mrs. Webster? Are you okay?"
"Yes, dear. Just hit the chair."
The seamstress's voice sounded a bit dazed, but Meredith just shook her head. Maybe the woman had accidentally tripped over the dress as she was going to hang it on the rack. It was the end of the day, after all, and Meredith was tired too. She could already tell from glancing down at the dress that she preferred this one to the first two, however: the fabric was a soft grey-pewter, perhaps; it made Meredith think of the moon-and it flowed around her like water. "I love this one," she said as she opened the door. "The colour is perf-Mrs. Webster?" The older woman was slumped in the chair, chin drooping towards her chest.
Clutching her still open dress to her chest, Meredith started towards the unconscious woman, but a hand trapped her arm. "She's quite fine, I assure you. You know how older women need their naps. All of those compliments she was doling out must have exhausted her, poor thing."
Meredith didn't have to turn around or look in the trifold mirrors to see who it was. "Damon." She expected her heart to sink, but his presence made her strangely rejuvenated. She hadn't seen much of him since that night on the balcony and, if she were honest, she missed the push and pull of their antagonistic relationship. If nothing else, it kept her on her toes. "What did you do to her?"
Damon merely shrugged. "Nothing damaging." Then he slid his hand down Meredith's arm until he reached her wrist. Twirling her in a slow circle, he gave her a very thorough once-over. "Enchanting," he declared, "but you need some help with the back."
"Mrs. Webster appears to be out of commission-" Meredith began. She could see the seamstress's chest rise and fall, and she let out a small sigh of relief.
"Allow me." Damon stepped in behind her, slowly sliding each button home. "You're not wearing your gift."
"It's a bit inappropriate for a wedding dress." Meredith stepped away, going up on the pedestal to get a proper look at the dress. It was magical, combining the traditional look her mother was craving with enough modern flair to make her happy.
Damon wandered over to a row of mannequins and plucked the veil off one, flipping the headpiece over in his hands. "In some cultures, your sexual history determined how you wore your veil. If you were a virgin when you wed, the veil was down. If not, you had the veil pulled back." With a smirk, he tossed the headpiece to Meredith. "I'm fairly certain how you would be wearing yours."
Meredith tossed the veil right back at him. "I'm not wearing a veil at all, so make of that what you will. Besides, some traditions are outdated. It's not like bridesmaids are back-up brides anymore."
"Touché." Damon was right at the foot of the pedestal when Meredith stepped down, running a finger along her bare shoulders. "One might say marriage itself is outdated."
The huntress carefully avoided the vampire's gaze. "What do you want, Damon?"
"I'm just being sporting. Alaric staked his claim and gave you a ring. That means the game is on." When Meredith frowned, he kissed her cheek, his lips lingering by her ear. "I'm going to show you that you're better than him-that you deserve better than him. You already gave him seven years of your regrettably short life. He doesn't deserve a minute more."
"I'm pretty sure that's my decision to make," Meredith countered softly. Damon didn't move away and she knew she should have made him, but his lips were sinfully soft on her cheek and his fingers were tracing the rise and fall of her collarbones.
"But of course. I just intend to help you make . . . an informed decision, shall we say?" Damon stepped back a fraction, bowing at the waist and kissing Meredith's hand. "If nothing else, you must admit my fashion sense is far superior to his."
Meredith couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not marrying him for his wardrobe."
"You won't be marrying him at all. Just wait and see." Damon walked around the far side of the pedestal to the chair, where he crouched and woke Mrs. Webster before vanishing down the staircase.
"Wait? Oh. Oh, my dear, I'm dreadfully sorry. I haven't been sleeping well, I'm afraid." Mrs. Webster rose quickly to her feet and smoothed out her skirt. "How long was I out?"
"Not long," Meredith assured the seamstress, "and it's quite all right." She stepped back up onto the pedestal for the other woman's benefit. "This one. I love it."
"Oh, indeed. And look at you! Already blushing! That's a good sign. You know, some people say that if you see another man while you're wearing your wedding gown, you'll steal his heart." Mrs. Webster gave a hearty laugh. "You could have a collection if you aren't careful!"
"I'll be careful," Meredith promised, standing still as the seamstress took her measurements, making notes where to take the dress in and where to let it out. I'll be careful, her mind echoed as she gazed out the window, spotting a crow on the window sill, peering in.
Author:pith
Spoilers: VD (loosely includes Unseen)
Part: 1/2
Disclaimers: Characters and world belong to LJS. I wrote this during July's Camp NaNoWriMo, so it's sketchy.
Summary: Alaric's finally proposed to Meredith, but has the fabled seven-year itch set in before the couple has even wed?
Meredith Sulez had been 'engaged to be engaged' for quite some time, and in a committed relationship before that, so the sudden appearance of a ring on an otherwise average, nondescript Sunday afternoon gave her pause. Alaric even went through the paces: he got down on one knee, pulled the small velveteen ring box out of his pocket, and popped it open-although in his haste, he opened it facing himself instead of his fiancée. Bonnie might have said that was a sign, so Meredith wisely didn't tell her friends about Alaric's stammering proposal or how he had nearly knocked her over as he rose to his feet to kiss her.
"Let's see the ring!" Bonnie cooed for what felt like the hundredth time. Meredith wasn't used to being the centre of attention, so she wordlessly stuck her hand out over the café table again. "It's so you, Meredith. Understated but beautiful."
Elena grabbed her friend's hand and tilted it her way so the small diamond glittered in the ambient lighting. "Very discreet," Elena agreed, just the slightest hint of disapproval in her otherwise jovial voice. Elena had come a long way from her queen bee days, but she still had very firm beliefs on weddings and their accompanying jewellery. In their younger years, she had confided in Meredith that nothing less than a diamond the size of her thumbnail would do, and she had even started cutting pictures out of magazines so she could start designing her perfect wedding in advance.
Matt, on the other hand, wasn't much for fancy and formal, but he did his best. "It looks really nice on you, Mere. It's very classy."
"Thank you, Matt." Meredith had already shown the ring to Bonnie and Elena dozens of times and had thanked them for their compliments, but she knew Matt was at least making an effort to understand all the fuss.
"You should be able to wear it when you're out hunting too," Stefan pointed out. Meredith noticed him sneaking occasional glances at Elena, as if he were wondering when his girlfriend was going to start hinting for an engagement ring of her own. Considering that Elena had drank water from the Fountain of Eternal Youth and Life, that seemed like more of a commitment than any ring or legal certificate could hope to be.
"He knew I didn't want anything flashy," Meredith agreed, trying not to sound defensive. She and Elena had already had the argument, and for now, it seemed like her best friend was going to let it slide-at least in public.
"About time." The intrusion of the unexpected voice made all the friends go still, Matt nearly spilling his coffee on his lap as Damon sauntered up behind Meredith's chair. "It's only been what . . . seven years now?" A sardonic smile stretched his lips as he crouched beside the huntress and took her left hand to examine the ring there, turning her wrist this way and that in order to utilize the light. "Isn't that when the fabled itch is supposed to set in? And you haven't even taken vows yet." His grin turned wicked. "Such possibilities."
Meredith yanked her hand back. "Alaric and I have been committed for years now, not that it's any of your business. And this ring," she added, practically shoving her left hand in his face, "is merely an extension of that. He travels so often that it's safer if we're married for legal reasons."
"All hail Meredith Sulez, Queen of Practicality," Damon murmured, straightening up and walking around the table to drop into a seat next to his brother. Even when he turned his attention to others-teasing Bonnie about when she might be getting an engagement ring of her own, bugging his brother reflexively-Damon always kept looking back at Meredith, and she wished she couldn't still feel the lingering tingle of his skin on hers.
*
The engagement party had mostly been Alaric's idea, although Bonnie never turned down a party and Elena was always interested in an opportunity to dress up. Clearly outvoted, Meredith reluctantly agreed, on the condition that her friends kept it small. Her parents already knew, as did Alaric's, so it was merely a way to share the news with colleagues, co-workers, and their larger circle of casual friends.
"Maybe I should be a party planner," Bonnie mused as she came up to Meredith's side during a lull in the impromptu receiving line. Alaric was now deep in conversation with one of his advisors, so Bonnie pulled her friend to the side. "I'd be good at it, don't you think?" Bonnie had changed her major several times over in college and still hadn't found quite the right fit. She had settled on education and was now working as a teacher's assistant for a kindergarten class, but working with children all day wasn't the joyous experience she had anticipated. "You don't need a degree to plan parties, do you?" The thought of more schooling was clearly unappealing. Of the four friends from Fell's Church, Meredith was the only one who had extended her education beyond her bachelor's degree.
"No," Meredith assured her friend. "You just need to be creative and outgoing and adaptable-qualities you have in spades." She gave Bonnie a sudden hug. Being around so many casual acquaintances-classmates, co-workers, and the like-made Meredith appreciate her true friends all the more. "You'd be brilliant at it, Bonnie. I would totally hire you for my wedding."
Bonnie lightly smacked her friend's arm. "Oh, you. As if I'd charge you! I'd plan your wedding for free!" Then she sidled closer. "I still get to be a bridesmaid, right? I know Elena's the maid of honour, but. . . ."
"Of course you do." Meredith drew Bonnie close again and gave her another hug, resting her chin in the smaller girl's curls. Normally Bonnie's innate insecurity irritated her, but she found it strangely endearing today. Perhaps it was because it was a problem she knew how to fix. Looking around at the chattering group, Meredith felt strangely out of place, even though she knew most of the people in attendance. Listening to colleagues talk about mortgages and saving up for their children's post-secondary education made Meredith feel out of her depth; she would prefer to travel before buying a house, and she wasn't sure if she ever wanted children. "Bon," she said impulsively, lowering her voice, "I'm just going to step out for some air. Could you cover for me? I'll only be ten minutes or so, I promise."
Bonnie patted Meredith's arm knowingly. "Sure thing. I think everyone's arrived anyway, so you've probably greeted everyone already, just like a good bride-to-be."
"Thanks." Just hearing bride-to-be made Meredith flinch a bit, and she wound her way through the various clusters of people to get to the back door of the community hall. Since she wasn't sure if it would lock behind her, she propped it open with an old milk crate that had clearly been used as a seat by the smoking crowd.
"That seven-year-itch is a pesky thing, I hear." Meredith whirled to see Damon leaning against the wall, seeming out of place in the bright afternoon; she associated him with darkness and shadows and places you were better off not going. "It would certainly explain why you've been so touchy lately-"
"I have not been touchy," Meredith snapped, immediately wishing she had stayed silent. She had been on edge lately, but it had very little to do with her impending nuptials, or so she told herself. "I'm just really busy, that's all, and I haven't been sleeping well."
"I could help with the sleeping part." Damon pushed off from the wall and took a step closer, still keeping his distance. "Have you set a date yet? I haven't received my invitation yet, and I can't imagine you, the very essence of propriety, would be so rude as not to invite me. I have saved your life, after all. Surely that gains me a seat at the blessed event?"
Meredith shook her head, trying to walk off some of her agitation. In the small alley, though, there weren't many places she could go that wouldn't put her within Damon's reach. "Alaric's not sure when his parents could get here. Why the sudden interest anyway? Are you planning on pulling a Maleficent and cursing my wedding or something?"
"You really don't know." Damon's voice was so soft that Meredith wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly at first, and by the time she had figured out what he had actually said, he was right in front of her, cradling her chin in his hand. "I'm trying to figure out how much time I have to scratch that itch of yours, that's all."
"I don't need you for anything," Meredith said through clenched teeth, trying to move her jaw as little as possible so as to minimize his touch. His fingers just curved around her neck, though, slipping into her hair while his thumb rested on her earlobe. "I have to go." She wished she had sounded more confident, more forceful, but the prolonged proximity to the vampire was doing strange things to her pulse.
"You told Bonnie ten minutes," Damon corrected with a soft smile. "That means I still have eight." He leaned in so slowly that Meredith had plenty of time to turn away, and yet the kiss still felt like it came without warning. Damon pressed closer, the collar of his leather jacket rasping against her collarbones. His free hand settled on her hip for a moment before moving around to the small of her back, pressing her close.
Meredith felt like she had been submerged in a pool of warm water, the temperature so perfectly attuned that it was hard to tell where her body stopped and the water began. Her body aligned smoothly with Damon's; there were none of the usual first kiss blunders, like noses getting in the way or stepping on the other's toes. When she realized that her fingers were tangled in the vampire's hair, she forced herself back, stumbling. "Don't ever do that again," she said with more vehemence than she truly felt.
Damon looked strangely aggrieved, as if she had accused him of some crime he found abhorrent. "I didn't influence you, Meredith. I didn't compel you."
"I know." If Damon seemed oddly hurt, Meredith's defensiveness was equally off-putting. "I never said you did. I . . . I let you get away with it, but that's the only time." She staggered back to the door, picking up the milk crate as if she could use it as a weapon. "Don't try it again, Damon. I swear." For all her bluster, Meredith was still too flustered to command her usual grace, and she tripped over the threshold.
The vampire swooped in and easily caught her around the waist before she could fall. "As you wish, Meredith. Next time, I'll ask, though I think the answer might be more in my favour than you seem to think." He planted the lightest of kisses on her cheek before stepping back. "You might want to check your lipstick before you rejoin your fiancé." With that, Damon turned and walked back down the alley, turned the corner, and was gone.
Meredith hurried to the women's bathroom and, after checking that no one was inside, locked the main door behind her. Wrenching the cold water tap, she cupped a hand under the sputtering stream and drank down several mouthfuls before ripping paper towels out of the dispenser and lining the neckline of her dress. Then she splashed water on her face, grateful that she hadn't been wearing much makeup. Idly, she noted that her lipstick wasn't bad at all, but she still touched it up anyway. After giving her head a firm shake, she tossed all the damp towels in the almost overflowing garbage can and strode back into the party. Might as well get it over with, she told herself, spotting Alaric and heading for him. "Hey. What did I miss?" she asked, nudging his arm.
"Dr. Manning and Dr. Niehaus here were just telling me about a teaching position at Berkeley that would be perfect." Alaric introduced Meredith to his two colleagues and started filling her in on the potential position. All the while, Meredith slid a hand back into her hair and pulled lightly, trying to clear her thoughts. All it did was remind her of Damon's touch, how strangely gentle he had been with her, and how the seven-year-itch was starting to seem like more of a reality every day.
*
After what had happened at the engagement party, Meredith wasn't sure a bridal shower or a bachelorette party was a good idea, but Bonnie and Elena had insisted-Bonnie especially so, since she was now determined to start a party-planning empire. The bridal shower turned out to be a strange affair. Gabriella, Meredith's mother, was called away on urgent business at the last minute and was unable to attend, so it was just Bonnie, Elena, Shay-at Bonnie's insistence, since Zander wanted them to get along better-and some of Meredith's friends from both law school and work. Weirder still was the fact that she had done a head count, and there were more presents on the table than there were attendees.
Meredith's practiced smile definitely got a workout that night. The people from university or work who didn't know her as well were the ones who got her raunchier bridal shower gifts, like sex manuals, flavoured condoms and lubricants, and edible underwear. Bonnie and Elena, both knowing Meredith's actual likes and dislikes, got her presents more geared towards her personality; one of the older attendees had given her a surprisingly thoughtful gift of an heirloom quilt.
The more presents Meredith unwrapped, the more conversations sprouted up, so as the gift pile dwindled, less and less attention was placed upon her, especially when the alcohol started flowing freely. By the time she got to the unmarked present, only Bonnie and Elena were really paying attention to her. Bonnie had a pen trained over a pad of paper, dutifully taking notes so Meredith could send out thank-you cards afterwards. "Who's that one from, Meredith?" She now started doing a mental tally and came to the same conclusion Meredith had at the start of the party. "Did someone get you two things?"
Elena shook her head. "I don't recall seeing anyone come in with a red bag. Is there a card in there?"
"Let me check." Meredith fished around the blooms of tissue paper, grimacing when her fingers skated over a ridge of lace-a disturbing skimpy ridge of lace. She finally found the corner of a small card and she brought it up. You don't wear nearly enough red, little huntress. D~ "It's from Delphine," Meredith said quickly, snapping the card shut and stuffing it back in the bag. "French exchange student in my ethics class. I forgot that she had dropped it off early because she had to work tonight. I really shouldn't open it without her here," she added, hoping her friends couldn’t see through the blatant lie.
"Okay." Bonnie looked disappointed, but gamely wrote Delphine at the end of the list, followed by a question mark.
The party started slowly dissolving after another hour, guests peeling off in ones and twos to go home. Bonnie and Elena stayed behind to help clean up, but after midnight, Meredith was finally alone. The lovely heirloom quilt had been stashed in the linen closet to await colder weather, while she had dumped the arsenal of sex paraphernalia into a large box. If nothing else, it would be worth a chuckle when Alaric got back home from his trip to Turkey.
Now that she was alone, Meredith felt safe opening the bag that was clearly from Damon. Most of its weight came from the tissue paper, and the small bits of lace she pulled out eventually resolved themselves into a skimpy matching set of bra and panties. She jammed the card from Damon deep into her book bag so Alaric wouldn't accidentally happen upon it, then turned back to the underwear. As the card suggested, they were both red-but not the bright garish red of so much attention-grabbing lingerie. It was a deep red, like that of garnets or pomegranates. Maybe it was the after effects of the free-flowing wine or the gratuitous girl talk, but Meredith had a sudden urge to try the ridiculous bits of lace on, if only just to see what the fuss about lingerie was about. Most of her bras and panties were generic and practical-more for function than fashion.
She tried the panties first, stripping off her dress and bra and underwear and pulling the scrap of lace and silk up her long legs. The front barely covered her pubic triangle; the back was bikini style, but it covered little more than a thong would. I can't imagine wearing these all day, Meredith thought, turning in front of her mirror. She had never seen the point to fancy underwear and Alaric had never complained about what she wore, so she'd never bothered. Still, she could at least see what the set looked like.
If the bra was a demi-cup, Meredith would be surprised. What there was of a cup barely reached her nipples, and she had to fight the urge to continually scoop her breasts back into the cloth. I wouldn't last five minutes in this! she thought-then, with a slight smile, she had to admit that was probably the point.
A sharp rap at her window nearly made Meredith trip over her own feet, and she grabbed one of Alaric's button-up shirts from the laundry basket to cover herself before going to investigate. Part of her wasn't the least bit surprised to see Damon standing on her balcony. "You got my present, I see," the vampire smiled when she opened the curtains and pushed up the lower half of the window.
Rather than worry about exactly how much the vampire had seen, Meredith simply nodded. "Highly impractical, lacking in substance-it had Damon Salvatore written all over it." She crossed her arms over her chest, the demi bra making her feel more self-conscious than ever.
"You know, it is customary to model anything you get as a gift." Backlit by the alley lights, Damon looked more mysterious than ever.
"I'm not inviting you in to see me in my underwear," Meredith said resolutely.
Damon nodded sagely. "A young woman can't be too careful in these times-but I don't recall asked to be invited in, either."
Meredith laughed. "I'm hardly going to go out on my balcony in my underwear!" Strangely, the thought of rehashing her earlier demand for him to leave her alone never occurred to her. The kiss at the engagement party seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Then show me here." Damon positioned himself in front of the window so no one would be able to see past him.
It's not like he can reach in and touch me, Meredith reasoned, letting her arms drop to her sides. Then she pulled the shirt open just enough to give the vampire a glimpse of her mostly nude body.
The sheer hunger in Damon's eyes made Meredith suddenly wish there weren't a window and a magical prohibition separating them. "You're gorgeous," he said simply, the words thick with longing. Where other men might expound on her smooth curves and long legs, Damon let his admiring gaze speak for him instead, his eyes roaming up and down her body until Meredith started to squirm. "I was right: You should wear more red."
Meredith chanced a glance down at herself and had to admit that though she still thought the lingerie was ridiculous, it did have a certain allure. "You could have just bought me a shirt-you know, something I'd actually wear."
Damon's wicked grin came back, but the haze of lust never quite left his eyes. "Oh, you'll wear these. You'll be ashamed of them at first and tuck them away in some drawer where Alaric will never look. But then you'll try them on again when you're alone, maybe even wear them around the house until one night, you want to wear them out, just to see how it feels." He dropped into a crouch then, peering up at her through the open window. "And I intend to enjoy every minute of that night."
Before Meredith could reply, Damon turned into a crow and flew away. She quickly slammed the window shut, locked it, and drew the curtains-but, to her surprise and chagrin, she didn't change right away. She put laundry in the wash and worked on a pro bono case and even emailed Alaric about her bridal shower, eventually falling asleep in the lingerie before she knew it, dreaming of dark eyes and darker desires.
*
Even though she had intended to throw Damon's gift of skimpy lingerie in the garbage, Meredith never did. On the contrary, she found herself wearing the set on days when she needed confidence and courage, or when she just wanted to feel dressed up. She kept them hidden from Alaric, but the more she wore the matching red bra and panties, the more she felt like going to a luxury lingerie store and buying herself another nice set-though perhaps one with a bit more coverage.
The day of her dress fitting was certainly an occasion to need both confidence and courage, but she didn't wear the red set; the idea of a bunch of strange women-no matter how kind and well-intentioned they were-seeing her in that set when her fiancé had not just felt wrong. Then she realized that the only person who had seen her in the lingerie had been Damon, and that wasn't something she wanted to think about for very long.
There ended up only being one attendant, the seamstress herself, but Meredith didn't mind. She rather liked the quiet atmosphere. Part of her regretting not asking Bonnie and Elena along, but so much of her wedding had felt like a communal party, and she wanted this small slice for herself. "You could pull off a bright white beautifully, of course," Mrs. Webster said, "but a nice antique ivory would also look lovely with your skin tone. Or you could go with something less traditional, less Western. Red is becoming very popular. Some young women even use graduation gowns to cut down on costs."
Meredith wasn't looking for anything extravagant, but she also knew her mother would be deeply disappointed if she didn't have a white gown. "I think I'll stick with white or ivory or a really pale grey in terms of colour," she allowed, "but I'm open when it comes to dress style. The big poofy skirt isn't really my look."
"Nor should it be." Mrs. Webster motioned Meredith up onto a little pedestal and walked around her client. "You have a beautiful figure. Very graceful legs." The seamstress peered up at Meredith's shoulders. "And exceptional posture. Did you take ballet as a child?"
"A little bit. It's more from martial arts," Meredith conceded, struggling to stay still under the woman's assessing gaze.
"Ah. Your parents wanted you to be able to defend yourself. Very wise, very wise. You never know who to trust these days. Why, just the other day, I read that there was a serial killer posing as a cab driver, and he'd lure women into his car with the promise of a free ride." Mrs. Webster clucked her tongue. "I have a few prototypes that I think would suit you very well. I'll bring them in for you. My girls and I can make any sort of adjustments you would like. You can get undressed now. Bra off too, for the time being; a lot of the dresses have custom necklines or shelf bras now."
"Okay." Meredith stepped down off the pedestal and into the adjoining change room, shedding her clothes and folding them in a tidy pile before slipping into the knee-length robe that hung from an antique hook. A few moments later, the seamstress knocked on the dressing room door and handed her a sleek cream-coloured dress. "Thank you," Meredith said, taking the dress and ducking back into the spacious dressing room. She left the robe on top of her clothes and stepped into the silken gown, holding the bodice close to her chest since she couldn't zip up the back. With her other hand, she opened the door and then held up the skirt as she stepped back up onto the pedestal.
"Oh, that's very chic." Mrs. Webster nodded with approval, fastening up the zipper and making a few tugs on the bodice so it fit properly. "You look very elegant for your age, my dear."
"Thank you," Meredith murmured, examining her reflection. For a wild moment, she wished she could go back to the Dark Dimension and get one of Lady Ulma's creations, but just the thought of the Dark Dimension made her think of Damon and how she had been forced to donate blood to him there. "It is lovely," she conceded, "but it looks a little more like a bridesmaid's dress to me. I don't want something ultra-traditional, but I'd like something with a little more. . . ."
"Bearing? Heft? Yes, I agree." Mrs. Webster handed her another dress, this one the colour of cinnamon and sugar combined. "I thought that hue would go beautifully with your skin. You have such a clear complexion."
Meredith took the dress silently, slipping out of the first one quickly and handing it back out to the seamstress. She wasn't quite sure how to respond to the woman's barrage of compliments, so she got dressed quickly and went back out onto the pedestal. Just as Mrs. Webster had predicted, the colour did look magnificent on her, as if she were clad in layers of diamond and amber brown topaz. "I love the colour," she said slowly, doing an experimental twirl after the seamstress had fastened the back, "but I imagine my mother would fight me on it tooth and nail."
"Ah, yes." Mrs. Webster nodded knowingly. "I see that all too often. The mother wants something traditional, the daughter wants something more modern, more sexy. This next one might just tick all the boxes. Give it a try."
Meredith took the third dress, daunted when she saw a rack with at least ten more dresses on it. Eloping looks really enticing right about now, she thought with a gulp, slipping out of the old dress and handing it out to the seamstress. A strange thump made Meredith stop pulling the new dress into place. "Mrs. Webster? Are you okay?"
"Yes, dear. Just hit the chair."
The seamstress's voice sounded a bit dazed, but Meredith just shook her head. Maybe the woman had accidentally tripped over the dress as she was going to hang it on the rack. It was the end of the day, after all, and Meredith was tired too. She could already tell from glancing down at the dress that she preferred this one to the first two, however: the fabric was a soft grey-pewter, perhaps; it made Meredith think of the moon-and it flowed around her like water. "I love this one," she said as she opened the door. "The colour is perf-Mrs. Webster?" The older woman was slumped in the chair, chin drooping towards her chest.
Clutching her still open dress to her chest, Meredith started towards the unconscious woman, but a hand trapped her arm. "She's quite fine, I assure you. You know how older women need their naps. All of those compliments she was doling out must have exhausted her, poor thing."
Meredith didn't have to turn around or look in the trifold mirrors to see who it was. "Damon." She expected her heart to sink, but his presence made her strangely rejuvenated. She hadn't seen much of him since that night on the balcony and, if she were honest, she missed the push and pull of their antagonistic relationship. If nothing else, it kept her on her toes. "What did you do to her?"
Damon merely shrugged. "Nothing damaging." Then he slid his hand down Meredith's arm until he reached her wrist. Twirling her in a slow circle, he gave her a very thorough once-over. "Enchanting," he declared, "but you need some help with the back."
"Mrs. Webster appears to be out of commission-" Meredith began. She could see the seamstress's chest rise and fall, and she let out a small sigh of relief.
"Allow me." Damon stepped in behind her, slowly sliding each button home. "You're not wearing your gift."
"It's a bit inappropriate for a wedding dress." Meredith stepped away, going up on the pedestal to get a proper look at the dress. It was magical, combining the traditional look her mother was craving with enough modern flair to make her happy.
Damon wandered over to a row of mannequins and plucked the veil off one, flipping the headpiece over in his hands. "In some cultures, your sexual history determined how you wore your veil. If you were a virgin when you wed, the veil was down. If not, you had the veil pulled back." With a smirk, he tossed the headpiece to Meredith. "I'm fairly certain how you would be wearing yours."
Meredith tossed the veil right back at him. "I'm not wearing a veil at all, so make of that what you will. Besides, some traditions are outdated. It's not like bridesmaids are back-up brides anymore."
"Touché." Damon was right at the foot of the pedestal when Meredith stepped down, running a finger along her bare shoulders. "One might say marriage itself is outdated."
The huntress carefully avoided the vampire's gaze. "What do you want, Damon?"
"I'm just being sporting. Alaric staked his claim and gave you a ring. That means the game is on." When Meredith frowned, he kissed her cheek, his lips lingering by her ear. "I'm going to show you that you're better than him-that you deserve better than him. You already gave him seven years of your regrettably short life. He doesn't deserve a minute more."
"I'm pretty sure that's my decision to make," Meredith countered softly. Damon didn't move away and she knew she should have made him, but his lips were sinfully soft on her cheek and his fingers were tracing the rise and fall of her collarbones.
"But of course. I just intend to help you make . . . an informed decision, shall we say?" Damon stepped back a fraction, bowing at the waist and kissing Meredith's hand. "If nothing else, you must admit my fashion sense is far superior to his."
Meredith couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not marrying him for his wardrobe."
"You won't be marrying him at all. Just wait and see." Damon walked around the far side of the pedestal to the chair, where he crouched and woke Mrs. Webster before vanishing down the staircase.
"Wait? Oh. Oh, my dear, I'm dreadfully sorry. I haven't been sleeping well, I'm afraid." Mrs. Webster rose quickly to her feet and smoothed out her skirt. "How long was I out?"
"Not long," Meredith assured the seamstress, "and it's quite all right." She stepped back up onto the pedestal for the other woman's benefit. "This one. I love it."
"Oh, indeed. And look at you! Already blushing! That's a good sign. You know, some people say that if you see another man while you're wearing your wedding gown, you'll steal his heart." Mrs. Webster gave a hearty laugh. "You could have a collection if you aren't careful!"
"I'll be careful," Meredith promised, standing still as the seamstress took her measurements, making notes where to take the dress in and where to let it out. I'll be careful, her mind echoed as she gazed out the window, spotting a crow on the window sill, peering in.