“You borrowed a wedding dress?” Harper looks mildly horrified.
“Patty had gotten married the year before, and her dress was gorgeous. To me, anyway. Shoulder pads up to here.” She holds her hands practically up to her chin. “Lace sleeves. Very Dynasty.”
“Shoulder pads?” Audrey wrinkles her nose. “In a wedding dress?”
“It was 1987, sweetheart. Shoulder pads were the height of fashion.”
“I feel like that can’t possibly be true.”
“It is. I have photographic evidence.”
“Please burn it.”
Mom swats at her, laughing. I love watching them bicker. It’s familiar and warm, and it makes me feel like maybe this whole day won’t be as stressful as I feared.
“What about you, Harper?” I ask. “How did you pick your dress?”
Harper’s expression softens the way it always does when Julian comes up. “I knew I wanted something classic. Timeless. Something Julian would love.”
“You picked your dress based on what Julian would like?”
“I picked a dress that I loved and that I knew he would love too.” She shrugs, but there’s a small smile playing at her lips. “We have the same taste. Always have. It’s like we share a brain sometimes, I swear. He knows what I’m thinking before I say it.”
“That’s sweet,” Ma offers.
“It’s practical,” Harper says, but she’s still smiling. “Why waste time arguing about things when you’re already on the same page? Julian is my person. Everything I do, I’m thinking about how it affects us. Both of us. That’s just how it works when you’re really connected to someone.”
She says it simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe for her, it is. Harper has always been devoted to my brother. From the day they met, he’s been the center of her universe, and she’s never made any secret of it.
It’s kind of beautiful, actually. The certainty she has. The way she builds her whole life around their partnership.
I wonder what that feels like, to be that sure about someone.
Celeste returns before I can spiral too far down that thought, her arms overflowing with white fabric.
“I’ve selected four very different styles,” she announces. “We’ll try them all and see what speaks to you.”
The first dress fits perfectly.
It’s also absolutely hideous on me.
I step out of the dressing room and onto the platform. I’m bracing for reactions to the dress when Harper’s gaze snags on my arm.
“Si, what happened?”
I’d been waiting for someone to ask. I don’t look at the bandage. Looking at it would make this feel like a bigger deal than I want it to be.
“Oh, just a work injury. Wet floor plus the world’s sharpest ice bin equals me learning a valuable lesson about running in non-slip shoes. Which, by the way, are a lie. They absolutely slip.” I shrug. “It looks worse than it is. Promise.”
Mom frowns, but before she can push, Audrey cuts in.
“You’re a mess. Now can we focus on how bad this dress is?”
I take the out gratefully, pushing down the guilt of lying to my family. Again. The dress deserves my attention, anyway, and not in a good way.
The dress is strapless, fitted through the hips, then flaring out at the knee. On the hanger, it looked elegant. On me, it looks like I’m being slowly consumed by a mermaid costume.
“The beading is pretty,” Mom offers weakly.
