Curvy Bride Claimed by the Mafia Don: He Made the Men Who Laughed at Her Kneel novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Ruined Gown

We got to Ventnor in ten minutes, and the lawn was already full.

Somebody had turned on every light on the Tully porch, and the flag was still ironed flat in the glare.

Silvio parked at the curb and got out before I could reach the door handle.

I followed him up the brick walk in my bare feet, with my heels in my hand.

Hazel's voice came out of the crowd on the lawn.

"Deirdre! Over here!"

Braden stood in the middle of the grass in his boxers and a torn Shore Point polo.

He held a pair of paper-handled shears in his fist.

Around him, on the wet grass, lay a drift of green silk.

It was my gown.

I could see the corset back, the hooks I had sewn one by one.

The bodice was cut straight across the middle.

The skirt was slashed into long ribbons that lay in the grass.

I stopped on the walk.

The lawn was full of people in bathrobes and yoga pants.

A few men in golf shirts holding up their phones, and two women from the Ventnor moms' group with their hands over their mouths.

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