It’s cream-colored satin with a V-neck and thick lace straps. Pearls are woven into a cascade across the midsection, mixed with red and green gems like I’m wearing a physical representation of a meteor shower in Christmas colors.
Or like I was trying to match my engagement ring.
When I shift, the skirt swishes and sparkles like the real snow in winter in Tinsel. My engagement ring sparkles with it.
My eyes well with tears.
This is it.
And it’s all fake.
I suck in a deep breath and blink back my reaction, but Mrs. Briggs is beaming at me.
She knows.
She saw it.
“Let’s see if we’ve finally found you a dress, yes?” she says, opening the dressing room door so that I can step out into the viewing area.
Mom gasps.
Lorelei squeals.
Esme chokes on the champagne she’s sipping.
“Oh my god, that’s the one,” Lorelei says while she pounds Esme on the back.
Esme gives me a thumbs-up while she coughs. Could be agreement. Could be anI’m okay.
And Mom dives for the box of tissues. “Oh, Amanda. I wish your father could see you right now.”
“Aww, Mrs. A.,” Lorelei says, and then she’s hugging Mom while all of us start bawling.
Lorelei.
Hugging my mom.
My mom letting her.
This is working.
“I need my phone,” I whisper to Mrs. Briggs. “Dane needs to see this.”
She hustles into the changing room and comes out with my phone, and I snap a pic of Lorelei hugging Mom and Esme joining them for an even bigger group hug, then send it to Dane quickly before I, too, leap into the hugging fun.
Or try to.
“Don’t get tears on the dress!” Esme shrieks.
“Or champagne or cookie crumbs!” my mom agrees.
“My brother is going to flippingflipwhen he sees you like this,” Lorelei says, and then we all burst into sobs again.
That’s the sign, right?
The crying?
It’s a good sign.
