Page 111 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

“What do you want?” I asked in a low voice, knowing better than to alert the well-meaning army of family members here. “It’s your dress and your day. The only thing you’ll remember at the end of it is that you’re now married to my dickhead brother and how you felt about the ceremony.” I scanned the many, many racks. “What kind of dress would make your wedding perfect for you?”

She swallowed and then squeezed my hand back before finding her voice.

“I love a full skirt. It’s very Disney princess, but I think they really neglect to show how hard it is to get around in them. Remember the dress I wore to my Year 12 formal?”

“You looked beautiful,” her sister said.

“But it was a pain in the arse. I don’t want that on my wedding day,” Nadia countered. “I don’t really want to go to the expense of buying two dresses either.”

“Smart,” her grandmother said. “Save that money for a house deposit.”

I nearly snorted at that. Either Nanna had no idea how much money was needed to buy a house these days or these dresses were heinously expensive.

“I did really want something strapless.” Nadia’s hands trailed across her collarbone. “I know Frankie would like the view.” I nodded, pained that I knew how much my brother liked tits, specifically Nadia’s, but I did. “But yeah, hitching my dress up all night would be a nightmare. I’m not sure about straps though.”

Mentally I was filing this information away, noting that her nose wrinkled at that idea.

“I think…” Nadia turned to her grandmother. “I think I want something all glamorous, like those old movies you used to show us.”

“Ava Gardner and Marilyn Monroe?” Nanna responded with a pleased smile. “Those were the days. Women really dressed like women back then.”

“OK…” I stepped away from the hubbub, mentally signalling to the stressed looking shop assistant to follow me. “You heard the lady. No full skirts, something that gets as close to strapless as possible, but without actual straps. 1940-50s glamour. Do you have anything like that?”

“I’ll do my best.”

The woman bustled away, retrieving the now discarded selections from Nadia’s family and putting them back on the rack as I followed. She flicked through dresses with terrible precision, pulling out this dress, then that, before retrieving a selection.

“They’ll need some alterations, but…” The assistant shot me a triumphant smile. “I think one of these might work.”

I went to help her carry the pile of dresses, but the wary look she shot me had me retracting my offer. Instead, we walked back to the crowd.

“What do you think of these, Nadia?” I asked.

“Oh…”

For a moment I thought I’d completely stuffed up. Her eyes went wide as she took each one in. Other family members stepped in, taking a dress each from the assistant, then presenting them for Nadia to inspect. She didn’t need to, though. One step, then another, she moved as if in a dream towards one.

It was a long dress, but rather than affecting a princess line, it was the more close fitting silhouette of an old Hollywood vamp. The white satin still kept it wedding, but it was curiously simple, the lines of the dress more important than decoration. It nipped in at the waist, had the kind of strapless bodice people were talking about, but rather than leave the shoulders bare, a delicate lace shrug had been added, creating a high neckline, but one where all of Nadia’s assets would be displayed in a combination that would be demure and sexy all at the same time.

“This…”

She turned then, eyes shining, tears starting to form, and while I’d never understand this kind of reaction to a dress, I understood happiness. Nadia was happy and that’s what mattered. I grabbed a wine glass off a table and sculled the contents, then said, “Well, looks like you need to try it on.”

With a little giggle, she did just that, emerging not long afterwards looking like a dream.

The poor girl, you could’ve heard a pin drop in that moment. Everyone clustered forward, even Mum joining the group, as they stared.

“Do you like it?” Nadia asked, her voice a little thready.

“Like it?” her mother said and that started everyone off. Compliments showered down on Nadia and she deserved every one. She looked like a picture of old-school glamour. “We love it, but what about you?”

She clasped her daughter’s hands as Nadia nodded sharply, tears filling her eyes.

“This is the one, Mum. This is it.”

Why did I look sideways then, not at the happy women, but to my own mother? Perhaps because her eyes were burning into the side of my face then. Mum looked similarly moved right now, patting the corner of her eyes with a paper serviette, but then her gaze seemed to sharpen. She moved through the crowd, not towards the lucky bride, but to me.

“So you do like dresses.”

---