Page 89 of Legally Ours

Chapter 21

A week later, I found myself standing outside a wedding shop with Gloria Epstein, the wedding planner that Hope and Margie had booked for me, and Jane, who had insisted that she would rather cut off a finger than miss watching me try on a bunch of poofy dresses.

I'd met Gloria the day before, and the woman was both one of the preeminent wedding planners in Boston and a complete whirlwind. The massive binder she had smacked on the coffee table in the apartment had been full of concept ideas for our wedding, and after she had managed to tease a few words out of me for a "style brief," she had assured me she'd take care of the rest.

In a way, it was fine. This wedding was already starting to feel like it didn't belong to me, and I knew Brandon felt the same way. Only once did I think of the small ceremony we had imagined in Cape Cod––but the idea made me so sad, I buried it under the guilt I still carried. Things between Brandon and me were mostly fine now, but my actions had repercussions. I needed to own them.

"Do you think your grandmother will be here soon?" Gloria asked me as she tapped her stilettoed foot on the pavement. "Jenna is really very strict about her appointments."

I glanced down the street, hoping to see one of the other security cars in the line of traffic on Newbury. "She should be here any second. I think she had a brunch or something this morning." I glanced back at Lucas, who was standing as unobtrusively as a six-foot-six giant could against the building. "Are they on their way?"

"Just parked, Ms. Crosby," he said with a nod.

As if on cue, I could hear Bubbe's voice coming around the corner before I actually saw her.

"Come on, come on! They're waiting for us!"

I looked down the block to see my tiny grandmother trotting down the sidewalk, another linebacker-sized security detail jogging behind her. She waved her hand as she approached.

"I told you to take Marlborough, not Beacon, Mario," she finished chiding her bodyguard. "Next time, listen. I know what I'm talking about here."

I had to smile. Less than two months living here, and Bubbe already thought she knew the streets better than the locals.

"You should be nicer to Mario," I said as I accepted her kiss on the cheek. "He's making sure no one snatches you off the street."

Bubbe waved my comments away even as Mario gave me a grateful look. From the look of him, guarding my grandmother was a tough job.

"Shall we?" Gloria broke in as she rang the buzzer on the door.

"Yes," I said. "Let's go."

~

The shop was called Le Rêve, and I could see why: it was like walking into a giant, white, wedding-shaped dream. The small shop catered to clients on an appointment-basis only, providing couture dresses for the most exclusive buyers in Boston.

It wasn't a place I would have ever ended up on my own. For one, there was the ridiculous fact that one dress here could potentially cost the equivalent of more than a year's rent at my old apartment with Eric. It was a preposterous amount of money to spend on something I would wear only for a few hours, particularly when I could just get a knock off for a tiny fraction of the price. David's Bridal was fine with me.

But Gloria had insisted I rethink that instinct, considering the potential for wedding photos to make the papers. "Dress for the job you want, they always say," she had told me in her office. "If the job you want is First Lady of Boston, then we've got some work to do."

I wondered briefly if she had been chosen as a channel for Cory. His words from my last public appearance with Brandon––"Michelle Obama, not Marie Antoinette"–– echoed in the back of my mind. So I had sighed, but conceded the need for a fancy dress.

Jenna, the shop owner, led us to the large tufted bench in the middle of the room, which was otherwise outfitted with racks and racks of white and off-white dresses, organized by designer. Despite the fact that I had absolutely no idea what kind of dress I wanted to have, Gloria had insisted that choosing a dress was the first thing I should do, and we weren't leaving here today until that had happened.

"Aside from the time it will take for fittings and everything within the next few months, it's the centerpiece of the whole shebang," Gloria said as she handed me, Jane, and Bubbe each a bridal magazine. "Choose the dress, and we know exactly what kind of wedding you're having. And I really need to know that. Like, yesterday."

"What's the rush?" Bubbe asked. "You know, if you don't mind waiting, I'm sure they would have space at the temple next year."

"Well, we want to get married before the primaries," I said, unable to meet Bubbe's eye.

"Not to mention you can't have a Catholic wedding in a synagogue," Gloria put in kindly. "As soon as Skylar's finished with confirmation classes, they'll be able to take the premarital counseling at Holy Cross. We've got the date booked for March."

"Confirmation what?"

Bubbe's voice rang out clearly through the shop, and all four of us were suddenly very quiet.

"Uh-oh," Jane muttered next to me.

I toed the light blue carpet uneasily.

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