Page 44 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

Her dress was perfect.

AndMandyandperfectdidn’t go together. Ever.

Something was wrong. Something other than fish or uninvited guests or burnt bagels.

If Mandy put that dress on, would everything blow up? Would the relationship she’d worked so hard—fought so hard—for just magically implode? It seemed more than reasonable considering her track record.

Her light blue panties withBrideembroidered across her bottom in white thread seemed to mock her. How many brides got this far and never made it down the aisle? Maybe she should get in her car and drive away. But to where? And how would she ever be able to explain it?

Everything just seemed too right, so I had to destroy it all.

That was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. But there she stood. Hair done. Lips layered with just the right amount of color, standing in front of a mirror in her underwear about to cry her eyes out.

Nothing seemed to make sense.

Mandy’s phone buzzed. Likely Mom reminding her againabout pictures or talking about shoes. Mandy had forgone the “getting ready” photos because she thought they were silly. No one liked the “before” pictures, only the “after” ones anyway, so why bother? But if someone had been there now, maybe she’d be able to put her damn dress on. Why didn’t she want bridesmaids again?

Oh, that’s right, because having multiple nervous people in one room was what Mandy had been trying to avoid. Which was why she had it all set up so that she could get herself into her dress without any help. She wanted to know that even on this day she was still a person who was capable of doing whatever she wanted. She needed to know that no matter what, she herself could survive. That it was a choice. She didn’tneedanyone. Getting married was a choice.Herchoice. And it would never change who she was.

Or would it?

After Laura got married, Mandy hardly ever talked to her. Not that she talked to her that much since seeing her at Grace’s after Laura had gotten engaged. But Mandy did try to stay in touch; she made that Facebook profile and would see an occasional update, but it wasn’t the same. Laura’s world became Steven’s world, and while it wasn’t like Mandy and Laura hung out or talked all the time, there was still something there—until there wasn’t.

Was Laura as happy as her online persona made her out to be? Or did she carefully curate what people saw about who she was now that she was Mrs. Olsen? Mandy should’ve answered that call from her earlier so she could have asked these questions.

Maybe as much as Mandy wanted to be, she just wasn’t the marrying type. While she loved, and loved hard, it wasn’t enoughto get her happily ever after. She’d kissed so many frogs that turned out to be just frogs that there was no way she was the princess in her own story.

Mom’s friend Georgia never got married, and she was fine. Better than fine, if you asked her.

Mandy sank to the floor, a memory of Georgia rushing to the front of her mind.

It was one of those summer evenings when the air was crisp but the heat from the afternoon still radiated from the concrete, creating the ideal temperature. Mom and Georgia sat at the patio table, a bottle of white wine—probably Mom’s favorite pinot grigio—and two glasses between them. Mandy hadn’t wanted to come outside, but Mom insisted she make an appearance and show Miss Georgia “just how big she’d gotten.” Mandy was a fourth grader, not a puppy, although when she heard who was there, she wasn’t as reluctant to stop the art project she had been working on.

“My Mandy Candy! How are you, sweetheart?” Georgia got up from the table as soon as Mandy stepped outside, and wrapped her in a hug. The fabric from one of Miss Georgia’s signature colorful shawls was cool against Mandy’s bare arms. It had been a while since Mandy had seen her last. Miss Georgia’s red hair was pulled up and away from her face, showing off her rosy cheeks, and she wore a deep shade of red lipstick that looked like a juicy pomegranate. Out of all of Mom’s friends, Mandy liked Miss Georgia best.

“I’m fine,” Mandy answered. Miss Georgia was the only person allowed to call Mandy that name, because she always brought candy with her when she visited.

“I got you a little something.” Miss Georgia reached into heroversized purse and pulled out a cellophane bag filled with sweet treats.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mom said.

“Hush now,” she said to Mom. “Sweets for my sweet girl.” She handed the bag to Mandy.

“Thank you!” Mandy plopped down at the table, glancing from the bag to Mom.

“Go ahead.” Mom waved at her before taking a sip of her wine.

Mandy pulled at the silk purple ribbon holding the bag closed and reached in, grabbing a soft orange confection. As soon as she popped it in her mouth, it was like she was drinking fresh OJ with vanilla ice cream.

“Those are some of my favorites. You’ll really like the pink ones too. Strawberry.” Miss Georgia winked.

Mandy didn’t know what Miss Georgia did for work, but she traveled a lot. Sometimes with the candy she would bring other trinkets from afar—and lots of stories. It all sounded exciting, and yet…“Are you ever going to get married?”

Mom covered her mouth like she was trying not to spit out her wine, and Miss Georgia threw her head back and laughed.

“Did you put her up to this?” she asked, pointing between Mandy and Mom.

“No, I swear,” Mom said.

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