Free Learning to Move Forward: Novella #3.5 by Cynthia P. O'Neill

Laurel could say to make me furious worked. “But my life was already ruined!” I yelled.
    “I know. Remember how we all tried to help you work through things?” She grabbed a tissue and held it out to me.
    I nodded. “Please continue.”
    “Donny had a feeling he might try something, so that’s why he wanted some security. He came across his vehicle at the time Barry was paddling you and took some pictures without Barry knowing. He showed him those, along with the pictures that asshole took of you and told him that if he tried to mess with one hair on your head that he and Freddie would come looking for him with the police.”
    I looked up to see Laurel was crying along with me. “They were only trying to protect you. That night haunted them for the longest time. They both felt guilty for not insisting you stay home that night and for not finding you sooner.”
    I shook my head in disbelief. “But it wasn’t their fault.”
    “I know, but still…” Her eyes dropped to the floorboard of the limo, not wanting to meet mine.
    My hand flew up to my mouth, feeling like I was going to be sick. “I can’t believe they blamed themselves. I need to talk to them.”
    Laurel grabbed my hand and shook her head. “No. You can’t. You aren’t even supposed to know what I just told you.” She paused for a moment. “I’ve talked with them through the years and they’ve come to realize they did the best they could with the circumstances presented. They still have the disk, if you ever need it, but we’ve kept your secret, because it’s only yours to share. I thought you should know.”
    I thought about it for a moment and realized they’d only protected me and wanted to ensure the bastard couldn’t come after me. I guess I could let it go. In a way, we’d all suffered from Barry’s actions.
    I was about to say this to Laurel when I heard, “We’re here, Mrs. Waters.”
    Laurel turned several shades of red, though I couldn’t tell whether it was embarrassment or anger. She pushed the button to lower the divider. Her voice was all huffy. “Thompson, for the last time please call me Laurel!”
    I could see his smirk from where I was sitting. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She was a bit miffed, but she would get over it. We were here and it was time to see if they were able to do what I wanted with the dress.
    We’d barely made it inside when Amber came rushing toward us in greeting. “Ms. Hart and Mrs. Waters, welcome back. We have both of your dresses ready and waiting. Would you care for any champagne or water?”
    I shook my head, declining the offer. I was just anxious to see my dress.
    Laurel politely declined. “I’m still breastfeeding, so I’ll decline the alcohol, but maybe some water in a little bit.”
    Amber could tell I was pensive. “The dress turned out wonderfully. Come with me and we’ll help get you into it and make any final adjustments.” She turned toward Laurel. “This is Monique. She’ll be happy to assist you with your fitting.”
    My gaze was fixated on the bag as Amber revealed the final results. “Oh my God! I love it!” The dress turned out better then I’d envisioned it.
    I’d tried on many of their dresses, but none seemed to be the one. Then I tried on one that had the perfect top half, but I hated the snug fitting, simple bottom. Then I tried on another with a bottom that was an amazing mermaid flair, but the top was so plain I just yawned. That’s when all of us seemed to get the same idea of merging the two dresses together. I’d been shocked because I didn’t know that could be done.
    I removed my clothing and put on the undergarments I’d wear with the dress and held my breath as I stepped into it. The dress went on smoothly, and when the zipper was pulled into place, I was staring into the mirror—speechless for the first time in my life.
    Amber’s face was filled with concern. “You don’t like it? We can make adjustments or any changes you want.”
    I shook my