My eyes widen as she pulls out champagne flutes and a brand new bottle.
“I don’t need witnesses,” I say, watching her single-handedly produce an entire bridal suite’s worth of details.
“Emotionally, you do,” she says. “Plus, I already told you, this is a big deal.”
I’m grateful she doesn’t go into more detail, because I don’t want Harper to know this is fake. It’s probably best that the fewer people who know, the better.
She sets the flutes on the dresser, then crosses to the garment bag and unzips it with zero warning.
“It’s just a winter elopement—” The words die on my lips.
The dress slides free.Mydress, apparently.
It’s simply elegant. White. Long lace sleeves and silky layers that flow from the waist. It’s exactly the kind of dress I’d want for a winter wedding—very princessy, but minus the tulle and the guadiness.
My chest tightens.
“No,” I say immediately.
Abby tilts her head. “Yes. Where’s your camera? I imagine you can capture some gorgeous photos with these lights on the bed. Nice touch, by the way.”
Emotion clogs my throat.
“I didn’t ask for a dress, Abby. This is too much.”
“You didn’t ask for a lot of things that showed up anyway,” Abby says pleasantly. “Like marrying your ex. Don’t you want to be swept up in this fairytale?”
Harper glances over at us from where she’s adjusting what I assume is my bouquet. A smile brightens her face, encouraging me to embrace the moment.
“It’s beautiful. It would be a shame not to wear it,” she says.
That somehow makes it worse.
“I don’t want this to feel…confusing,” I whisper to Abby. “Today is already strange enough.”
Abby’s voice softens. “Chloe. It’s fabric. You’re not promising anything extra by wearing it. You’re alreadymarryinghim.”
I swallow. “This suddenly feelsvery, very real.”
I’m surrounded by women who want nothing more than for me to be happy, even if half of them don’t know what this really is. My eyes travel to the door, for just a second, wishing Evelyn and I could settle her differences.
She should be here for this.
And that’s one more point that I’m taking thisway too seriously.
“That’s because it is,” Harper says gently. “And because it isn’t. You’re allowed to feel both at once.”
I huff out a breath. “I can’t wear that dress.”
Abby studies me for a long beat. “You’re not scared of getting married.”
I blink. “I?—”
“You’re scared you’ll want it to stick. You’re scared this will turn into a marriage. That this won’t end like before, and you’ll finally get what you’ve wished for.”
Silence presses in.
I look down at my hands. If we were doing this the right way, if this were real, I’d already have a ring on my finger and a proposal that didn’t involve business decisions.
