Page 130 of Dirty Husband
"It's his money," I say. "Not mine."
"His money you can spend on a dress. On your wedding." Realization spreads over Mai's face. "Who is planning this?"
"One of his assistants." I'm not helping my case.
Quyen shakes her head. "An assistant? Jasmine, you trust his assistants to plan the most important day of your life?"
"This is the most important day of my life?" I ask.
She nodsof course. Picks out a dress that's much more ornate. Lace flowers cover visible boning, a trumpet skirt, a bow at the waist. It's couture. High fashion. Weird.
"You're bold." She motions to the dressing room. "You deserve a bold dress."
Mai waves it away. "Bold is another way to say ugly. When was the last time someone called a new haircut bold as a compliment?" She looks at me, her thoughts visible on her face.Besides, no one thinks Jasmine is bold. She's a good girl. Studies hard, never complains, sacrifices for her family. "Why not wear that?" She points to another gown in the window. One an even, ahem, bolder design.
A tight bodice, a peacock tail, and no skirt. Like a superhero in an impractical bridal outfit.
But Quyen loves it. "She has great legs."
Mai laughsthat much is true. She scans the rows of dresses, looking for something more… normal.
She finds something aggressively normal. A simple ivory sheath with no detail.
Quyen shakes her headnot in a million years. She joins her sister at the rack. Finds a more exciting version of the same dress.
Still a simple sheath, covered in thick lace. "Have you picked a style?" she asks. "Or a venue? We need to know what's appropriate."
That's a great question. One that should be on my mind. What is our venue? If I had all the time in the world, I'd pick…
I don't know. I've never thought aboutwhereI'd get married. More about who and what happened after.
Immediately, my head fills with images of Shep's home back in California. The park where we used to spend our time. The giant redwoods we'd visit a few times a year.
The fancy hotel in San Francisco where we tried to order drinks.
The pictures of my parents wedding. A simple ceremony in the park in traditional Vietnamese attire.
It is spring.
But does the park represent some deep part of me? And which park? Which saysJasmine Lee is more than a rich man's wife?
Does that even matter?
It's not a real wedding. We aren't really in love. We aren't really professing our desire to stay together forever.
"We're still deciding," I say.
My aunts exchange a look. One that meansthat's not good.
"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Mai asks.
"It's okay if you are," Quyen adds. "You wouldn't be the first—"
Mai cuts her off. "Your dad would be so happy."
"I know." I laugh, despite the awkwardness. "He's very excited about grandchildren."
They exchange another look I know well. One that meansis that really going to happen? Or will he be gone first?
