“I’m going to cry,” her mother said.
Lily’s eyes slid over to Yoko, whose expression suggested she’d just eaten a sour lemon.
“It isn’t the one,” Lily said, mainly to Yoko.
Yoko’s cheek twitched, but she didn’t say anything.
“Well, there are plenty more where that came from,” Denise said, guiding Lily back to the dressing room so she didn’t trip on the end of the gown.
Lily felt she’d disappointed Denise, somehow. Was she meant to gush over every dress she tried on?
For the next hour, Lily felt at the mercy of her family and Yoko. She emerged from the dressing room more than twenty times, revealing different parts of her body, different dress lengths, and different amounts of lace, train, and waist cinch. Some of the gowns were ivory; others were like frosting on awedding cake. As time wore on, she felt increasingly ugly, as though no dress in the history of the world had ever been made to suit her. She wondered if this was proof she shouldn’t get married. Surely, no bride felt like this. Not just ugly, but malformed.
“I still really liked the eighth one,” Rebecca said, when Lily emerged in the twenty-second dress that was far away from the best. “What did you think of the eighth one?”
Lily furrowed her brow, trying to recall which dress her mother meant. It was impossible to know how long ago that had been. An hour? Two? Rebecca handed her cell over to show a pained-looking Lily in a buttercream dress that made her look slightly ill.
“This was your favorite?” Lily asked her mother.
Esme looked at the screen and shook her head. “I didn’t like that one, Bec.”
Rebecca winced and sat back down.
“We have more!” Denise cried.
But Lily shook her head. “I need a break,” she said. “I can come back another time.”
Denise and the other employees looked disappointed. It was clear that they’d expected a massive sale by the end of the day. But Lily didn’t want to feel forced into purchasing anything that wasn’t perfect. She’d read horror stories online of women who’d bought a dress during their first shopping trip and regretted it. Then again, what if Lily never found anything that worked for her? Sweat billowed on her upper lip. She was tired of being looked at.
Just before she dipped back into the dressing room to change into her street clothes, she looked at Yoko and asked, “Did you like any of them?”
Yoko looked surprised that her opinion had been sought. She cleared her throat, looked Lily dead in the eye, and said, “I think we can do better than these.”
Lily felt a wave of relief. She’d never imagined that Yoko would be in her corner like this. “I think so, too,” she said under her breath. “Thank you.”
After Lily was back in the clothes she’d come in, there was a discussion of what they would do next. Valerie’s husband had agreed to hang with baby August for the rest of the night, leaving Valerie hours to herself.
“We should get food or something,” Valerie suggested.
“Sounds good to me.” Rebecca nodded. The restaurant was closed tonight, and Lily could see relief etched into Rebecca’s tired face.
“I would like to invite you all back to my home for dinner,” Yoko said suddenly, casting shock across their faces. She laced her fingers and looked at them expectantly.
None of them had ever been back to the house where Liam had grown up—not even Lily, who’d only met Yoko and her husband, Kendall, back in New York thus far. She’d been waiting for an invitation that had never come, not until now. She knew better than to say no.
Yoko was extending an olive branch, and the Suttons were ready to accept.
Lily followed her mother’s car back to Yoko and Kendall’s place, trying and failing to imagine what the interior looked like. This was the home where her fiancé had been raised, the place where he’d been homeschooled, the place he considered the most beautiful on earth. It felt jarring to go there without him. Butthen again, whatever Liam was up to out West had apparently not allowed him to text Lily all day today. She could send him a selfie of herself and Yoko in his childhood kitchen. Maybe Yoko would text Liam later and tell him how “lovely” Lily was.
Lily knew her thoughts were poisonous. She knew that she needed to get a handle on her emotions if she was going to get through this long-distance love. The long-distance was temporary. She had to remember that.
The Reynolds family's outrageous wealth was apparent from the road. Their mansion was formidable, its windows shining, its lawn stretching wide and green on either side. Their pool house was about as big as Lily’s grandparents’ place, where the four Sutton children had grown up. There was a jewel-lit pool that, Lily guessed, nobody ever used, plus large, lush shrubs, decorating the garden and blocking people’s view. Their view of the ocean was just as sensational, and there were no neighbors in the immediate surroundings, giving the Reynolds the impression that they were the only wealthy people around.
Lily parked behind her grandmother and mother and followed them through the iron gate and into the front door, where Yoko was already waiting for them, wearing house slippers and a linen outfit. Lily felt sloppy when compared to her.
“Welcome,” Yoko said, bowing to them in a gentle way that reminded Lily of how different Yoko’s culture was. Maybe that was the reason Lily didn’t fully understand her. Perhaps there were so many cultural differences that she misread as “cold” or “cruel.”
“Please, come this way,” Yoko said, beckoning for the Suttons to follow her through a living room that reminded Lily of a cathedral and into a massive state-of-the-art kitchen. Three chefs were already cooking, making what seemed to be a traditional Japanese meal. Yoko offered the Suttons champagne,wine, and sake, and the Suttons agreed they were interested in sake. It felt more traditional, especially when paired with the food.
