Page 88 of Home Wrecker

“I’d wear that.” Cece stops worrying her lip, making me glad someone has broken the silence. “I’d do it in a different color and pretend to be you.”

I groan, buckling at my midsection. We haven’t even discussed what my bridesmaids are wearing. If no one can come to a consensus on my dress, how are the mill girls and my sister going to agree on theirs—especially since it has to complement whatever I chose.

“It’s actually better than the rest,” Kimber agrees. “I’d wear it too, but only for you.” She must have felt my angst.

I whisper my thanks.

“It does come in a peach.” Isobel contributes to our conversation.

The flowers she found for the terra-cotta pots have delicate white centers with peachy-pink edges. The tips are incredibly vibrant. Bold like the circus tent, red stripes.

“Okaayy,” I blow out a breath. “So you all are wearing a bridal gown and I’m attending my wedding naked.”

Isobel puts her palm on my upper chest, tipping my shoulder back, and saying something about practicing good posture. She spins me around, marching me toward the fitting room.

I’m unzipped, standing there in my altogether while the wedding planner futzes getting the third gown back on the rack.

“Are you going to go with your friends’ suggestion?” she asks, taking out her notepad.

“I don’t see why not. At least, it’s one more thing you can check off the list since I’m late making decisions.”

“You’re among the most interesting, but not the most difficult bride I’ve ever worked for,” she chortles, moving the dress to the opposite side of the room under an embellished script sign that reads: I do.

The first two dresses are on the “I object!” rack. Pretty funny. The rest of the black garment bags hang from a much wider “maybe” pole. I keep trying to come up with a more appropriate sign for it in my head. Having it called the “‘do you?’ pole” makes me think about the pole on stage at work. I don’t think Isobel would appreciate my humor.

I stand there cupping my breasts and it hits me that my toplessness isn’t the least bit provocative to this woman. It’s her job to dress and undress me until we get it right. Isobel has probably seen lots of uncovered boobs and her fair share of panties that don’t cover a gal’s assets. We’ve sort of got that in common.

She goes to the maybe rack and starts unzipping the next bag in line. She zips it back up and shuffles to the end of the row.

“I was going to pull this one out last. It’s not what you asked for.”

“Then why did you bring it in here?”

“It was something Cary said when I’d spoken to him. He mentioned you attended a wedding on your first date and how stunning you were. Like an old Hollywood starlet. He said sitting next to you at that ceremony he had a feeling someday he was going to marry you.”

“He did?” My hand creeps up my neck.

Having never been married, I wondered while watching Glen and his wife say their vows if the bride still got the tummy-bumps Cary was giving me. My fingers balled in my fists, digging into the flesh of my palms, I pictured Cary up at the altar. I’d attended my fair share of weddings before Cary asked me to Glen’s. However, I hadn’t superimposed the groom with any face I knew. I chastised myself for being silly. William had promised we’d walk down the aisle and it was stupid of me to get swept up in and forget the heartbreak I’d been through.

Isobel unzips the bag. “I want you to close your eyes for this,” she says as she’s taking out the swath of fabric. “It won’t look like anything until it’s on. And you need the full effect.”

I drop my boobs and cover my eyes, keeping them closed as Isobel slides the silky wrap over my bare skin. The garment covers my legs and tickles the tops of my toes. I hear the teeth of the zipper catch. She tells me to hold still. She’s not quite done and there are several snapping sounds at my back, followed by lots of tugging as she’s draping.

My anticipation is getting the best of me.

“Do you think you can keep them shut a little longer?”

“Sure thing.”

With my hands to my face, I’m led back out to where my girls are at. I feel the kick pleat in the back give as I walk.

“Oh, my god!”

I hear it repeated. Shushing sounds intersperse with squeals.

Isobel gives me the go-ahead to look. I gauge my friend’s reactions in the mirror’s reflection first. Sloan’s not interested in her drink anymore. Aidy may bust off of the couch if Kimber didn’t have a grip on her. Cece’s fists are under her nose, hiding a wide grin. Hailey isn’t hiding hers at all. Davina might have seen a ghost. And my sister, Laurel, is wiping her cheeks.

I finally drop my gaze to the floor, slowly bringing it up. Holy crap, this dress is amazing!

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