Cheryl grinned. “Well, no wedding dress is simple. Elegant, maybe. But yes, this one is understated. Refined.”
Jean made a rude noise. “Understated is dumb. You are the first Reed sister to get married. You should go for all the sparkle they can glue on the thing.”
“I’ll try it,” I told Cheryl.
“Fantastic. I’ll set these up in the changing room for you in the order that we’ve seen them. Go ahead and undress, and I’ll help you with any tricky buttons, laces, or zips.”
She scooped up the dresses like they were made of nothing but bubbles and wishes, then got to work setting up the changing room.
“Put on the sparkly one first,” Jean said. “It’s my favorite.”
“No,” Myra insisted, leaning around me to scowl at Jean. “We agreed the one with the detachable skirt is the best.”
“We didn’t agree on anything,” Jean said.
“Yes, we agreed that I am older than you, so therefore I am always right.”
Jean widened her eyes at me. “Delaney, she’s being mean to me.”
“Sure, she is,” I said. “Poor little Jean couldn’t be trying to manipulate me into taking her side on the sparkly dress at all.”
Jean chortled. “Yeah, I figured you were going to hate the sparkly dress.”
“Reverse psychology won’t work either.”
She gave me a big thumbs up and sipped.
“Delaney?” Cheryl asked. “Ready?”
I heaved to my feet, and my audience offered very polite golf claps before giggling their heads off.
I shut the curtain and just stood there in the changing room a moment. They might think I hated shopping for dresses—and they’d be right—but this experience was different. It was more about having my sisters there, blood family and chosen family. It was about being held up by their joy for me, their happiness.
I didn’t care which dress I wore down the aisle. This, hanging out with my sisters and aunties and friends, was something I’d never forget.
I put on the first dress and tromped out to the platform.
It fit nicely, and the skirt was so puffy, I felt like a storybook princess.
“But the spangles are blinding,” I said, as I did another spin at Jean’s request.
“It’s so pretty, though,” Jean said. “Don’t you all think it looks amazing on her?”
“No,” Myra said.
“Yes!” Jules piped up.
“I agree,” Hera said.
“I’m not ready to take sides on this yet,” Frigg said with a grin. “But you do look amazing in it. Very….floofy and bright.”
“Three for, one against, one abstained,” I said. “Pretty much where I thought the chips were going to fall. Care to give an opinion, Cheryl?”
“Nope. Not until I see you in all three of them. Let’s give that sporty little convertible a spin.”
Another trip to the changing room. This time I came out with a little more dramatic sass to my step.
“What is she doing?” Jean asked in an overly loud whisper to Jules. Apparently while I’d been in the changing room, they’d all played musical chairs. Jules was now next to Jean and had absconded with a bottle of Riesling, which was on the seat of the empty chair next to her.
