Page 14 of Aisle Come Back to You

“So you like it then?” Ronnie asks, her hands in the pockets of the dress as she swishes the skirt back and forth.

“Of course I like it,” I promise, tilting my head to the side as I do my best to capture every detail. Would this be the dress I’d pick out for her or assume she’d pick? No. Although it doesn’t give off Ronnie vibes, I can still appreciate the dress for its elegant beauty.

When I think about Ronnie, her style has always stood out as completely distinct and one-of-a-kind. While this particular gown embodies the ideal wedding dress with its A-line shape and elegant off-the-shoulder design, it lacks any additional flair.There are no unique features, or frills or thrills that differentiate it from any other wedding dress.

“But you feel like it’s missing that certain je ne sais quoi, don’t you?” she asks, practically reading my mind. Then again, I’ve never been all that good at hiding my thoughts.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” I shrug, biting my lower lip as my eyes drift down the dress. “I mean, there isn’t much going on, but maybe that’s the beauty of it. It makes you, as the bride, the main attraction. Seriously, you’re truly the most beautiful bride I have ever seen in my life.” Wanting to reassure her, I step forward and reach out for her hands as she takes them out of her pockets and places them in my own.

“Thanks, Blair. I appreciate that,” she says, her face relaxing into a smile as I give her hands a small squeeze.

“Holy shit!” Ford’s voice rings out only moments after the bell above the front door rings. “You look amazing,” he adds, his face lighting up in pure adoration.

“That’s what I was just telling her,” I say, releasing her hands as Ronnie once again turns around to take in her appearance through the large mirror.

“Now it’s your turn,” Ronnie says as our eyes meet through the reflection. “We just need to pray that the measurements you sent me were correct, because we don’t have enough time to order a new one,” she says, voicing her nerves. I understand her anxiety. I’m sure I’d be a hot mess too if I was less than two weeks away from my wedding.

Plus, if this is her version of being a bridezilla, I’d say I’ve gotten off pretty easy.

“Don’t worry. I not only double-checked the measurements, but I triple-checked them. I get how important this is,” I promise her. Not only did I not want to be the person responsible for messing up an important part of her wedding, but I also didn’t want to have to witness Ronnie lose it. Despite her typicallyeasygoing nature, there have been a couple of instances where I’ve seen her lose her temper, and I definitely don’t want to be the one responsible for reawakening that sleeping monster.

“It’s just back here, dear,” Karen, the elderly dress shop owner tells me as she places a hand on the back of my shoulder and leads me toward one of the two dressing rooms.

Since this is the only formal dress shop in all of Evergreen Grove, it’s, of course, not my first time here. It’s where everyone from town comes for any fancy occasion, and where I got every homecoming and prom dress.

I’d already seen pictures online of the dress that Ronnie had chosen for her bridesmaids and had specifically ordered for this event. While the dresses here in the store aren’t necessarily bad, the selection can, at times, be small and dated.

While there’s that running joke of brides picking the ugliest dresses for their wedding party, if only to make themselves stand out more, the second I see the dress on the hanger, a soft gasp leaves my lips. It’s gorgeous, and it’s hard not to reach out as my hand moves over the soft dusty-blue silk. It’s perfect. At least something from this wedding shows that Ronnie’s put her mark on it.

“Just let me know if you need any help. I’ll be right out here,” Karen assures before closing the fabric curtain to give me some privacy.

Eager, yet filled with a slight hint of anxiety that I had somehow taken my measurements wrong, I quickly undress and step into the silky fabric. Like Ronnie’s, it also has an A-line shape with sleeves that fall perfectly off the shoulder, but instead of leaving them completely bare, there are thin straps for added support. Even more stunning is the boning in the corset, which cinches in my waist in the most flattering and perfect way. There’s also a fun slit in the skirt. Thankfully, I shaved this morning, so no mishaps there—not that I have anyone totruly impress. Other than Ronnie, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, not even Ford.

“Okay, Karen. I think I could use a zip-up,” I holler. While it seems to fit just right, the true test is whether it will zip or not.

“Oh, wow. Ronnie has some great taste, doesn’t she?” Karen coos as she opens the curtain just enough to let herself slip inside. “You look so beautiful, dear,” she further compliments as she tugs at the zipper. Thank God, it zips.

“Thanks, Karen.”

I smile, taking in the view as I move from side to side, admiring the way the dress hugs my body and fits like a glove. There is also no denying that it shows off the ladies perfectly. At this point, the only thing that needs to be adjusted is the length, but given my height, and pretty much every dress I’ve ever tried on, that checks out.

“You guys need to see this,” Karen insists, her excitement evident as she slips out first, and I follow.

I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, especially around these two of all people, but the awkwardness persists as I scrunch my nose and bite my bottom lip. I’ve honestly never been one to love a ton of attention. “What do you think?” I ask, my gaze finding Ronnie first, seeking her approval above all others.

“Wow!” she squeals with uncontainable excitement and clasps her hands together underneath her chin, “it’s perfect.”

Wanting Ford’s opinion next, I swivel my head in his direction, finding him comfortably seated on the small couch positioned in front of the grand mirror and modeling stand. I don’t want to read too much into things, but his body language tells me he approves as he goes from leaning back to sitting up straight, his mouth slightly ajar.

I don’t want to overthink this, but I can’t ignore the way his eyes meticulously examine every inch of the dress, lingering onthe slit that shows off my leg before finally locking his gaze with mine once more.

“Well?” I prod, not sure why I need to hear it, but I do.

“It’s…wow. That’s all I can say. Wow,” he stammers, his mouth still open, before shaking his head as we finally break eye contact and both turn toward Ronnie.

A sly grin crosses her features, accompanied by a knowing nod—I swear, if she says anything.

Luckily, before anyone can say another word, Karen quickly ushers me onto the small stand, wasting no time in starting her task as she skillfully sticks pins into the bottom of the dress.

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