Page 64 of Writing On The Wall

I loop my arm through hers, pulling her inside while I whisper. “Just say the word, Em. I’ll organize everything.”

“That’s actually very tempting,” she mumbles under her breath before greeting her mother, Fretta, with a stiff hug. In contrast, Ethan’s mom, Jeanie, breezes over like the ray of sunshine she is, crushing Ember and I in a loving embrace. “Ooh, I’m so excited!” she intones. “Thank you for including me in this, Ember.”

I look around again while Ember and Jeanie continue talking. The store is lavishly decorated in champagne pinks and soft lighting. Every corner seems embellished with fixtures and decor that scream wealth. It’s sonotEmber. But I’m sure she’ll go along with it, anyway, since she’s been picking her battles when it comes to her mother’s input.

A stylist glides a rolling clothing rack into view, leading it towards the dressing room to our right. Positioned in the grandest of the three dressing spaces, it features the customary pedestal where brides-to-be showcase themselves for their loved ones.

“Ember Hayes? I’m Martha Jean. You must be our beautiful bride,” she greets Ember with a smile that exudes professionalism. But her eyes betray her when they flicker to Fretta, seeking herapproval.

“If you’ll come with me, we’ve preselected some gowns for you to start.”

Ember cringes before she quickly recovers, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as she nods her assent, then beckons me to join her with a subtle tilt of her head. I follow, meeting her at the rack of gowns.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much are you hating this?” I whisper.

“I’m already maxed out. It’s fine, though. I’ll try on a few of these, and worst case scenario, I’ll have two dresses.” She lifts two hangers from the rail, handing them to Martha Jean.

“I could always arrange for Nicholas to suddenly develop a strong aversion to the dress your mom selects while it’s ‘airing out,’ ” I suggest in a hushed tone, emphasizing the air quotes.

“Don’t tempt me.” Ember’s eyes widen in a playful warning before she vanishes into the dressing room. I stifle my laughter as I turn back to the mothers, who are already seated on the central sofa, each of them holding a flute of champagne, their anticipation palpable.

I delicately lift a glass from a gleaming silver tray, relishing the effervescent bubbles as they dance on my palate. Just as I begin to enjoy the sensation, a gentle ping interrupts, prompting me to reach for my phone to check the incoming text message.

Ethan

Good morning, big spoon

My head jerks up instinctively to ensure no one can decipher the text’s contents or its sudden impact on my cheeks, which now feel like they’re ablaze.

Ethan

Marco and I are knocking out that wall after I get back from the gym

Make sure to pick up your antibiotics. And don’t injure yourself while dress shopping, or I’m playing big spoon tonight

For a fleeting moment, I find myself lost in a daydream, imagining the cozy embrace of Ethan’s arms. However, my reverie is interrupted as Jeanie pulls me closer to her on the sofa, bringing an abrupt end to my fantasy.

“So, Ember tells me you’re dating someone!” She smiles giddily, and I panic, thinking she knows something about me and Ethan. But my heart rate settles once she continues. “—a coworker. So romantic!” she squeals.

“Oh! Ha-ha, yes, ma’am,” I respond with a nod, bringing the glass to my lips for a long sip. My gaze flits around the room as I contemplate my next move. There’s a pang of guilt as I consider deceiving Ethan’s mother. Even though it’s not like I’m going to allow anything to happen between Ethan and me, I’m still desperate for her approval. And for some inexplicable reason, sharing a slightly altered version of the truth feels essential.

I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “Please don’t tell Ember, but I’m only going on a few platonic dates with Toby to help him out. We’re actually just friends.”

Jeanie leans back, her eyebrows raising. “Oh, now that sounds like an interesting story. You know, I had my own fake-dating situation when I was a young thing.” She winks with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But what about your house? Ethan’s been telling me about all the renovations he’s helping you with! He says it’s just darling. In fact, he couldn’t stop talking about it yesterday.”

My throat grows dry, and I end up choking on my spit in the world’s most awkward attempt to play it cool.

Ethan is talking to his mom about me?

“Oh, sweetie, are you okay?” She pats me on the back in soothing sweeps.

“Yup,” I croak. “And, yes, Ethan has been a huge help.” I smile, wiping at my chin after sipping from the tiny bottle of water Jeanie thrusts in my hand, my very own real-life fairy Godmother.

I stand and excuse myself to hunt for a trash can to dispose of the empty bottle. Yet, unsurprisingly in a place like this, something as visually off-putting as a trash can is nowhere to be found. A store assistant materializes out of thin air, her smile bright as she whispers, “I’ll take that for you, honey.” Still perplexed, I glance back at the woman, wondering how she appeared so suddenly.

I’m turning back to continue my conversation with Jeanie when I’m caught off guard by my momentum and one foot wedges behind the other. I stumble, but Jeanie is at my side, gripping onto my arm and stopping me from hitting the floor. It dawns on me that she must have been beside me all along. Either that, or she anticipated my clumsiness and miraculously managed to save me from a side full of popped stitches and an unfortunate carpet burn on my forehead.

She chuckles softly, her shoulders trembling with amusement as she patiently waits for me to steady myself. “Ethan warned me about your tendency to find yourself in these situations.”

---