It’s cute, I guess. But pink is definitely not for girls like me.
“What do you think of this one?” Alba asks, holding up a poofy ballroom-styled monstrosity.
“It's not…me.” I shudder. “I’m not sure I could pull off all that tulle.”
“You’ve got that right,” Hilary mumbles under her breath. When I turn and glare at her, she smiles sweetly. “Tell me again where you met a man like Lincoln. You two are night and day.”
“I think they’reperfecttogether,” Tammy pipes up immediately.
“The perfect match.” Laney plants a fist on her hip and sends Hilary a glare.
“All I’m saying is, incompatibility is a huge factor in why so many marriages fail.” My half-sister bats her blonde eyelashes innocently.
The tension in the room is quickly approaching disaster levels. I feel my teeth grinding together as I try to swallow down the verbal ass-kicking that’s rising up my throat, and my girls are all squaring up for a blowout argument.
This is not the time. This is not the place. But Hilary is really asking for it.
Alexia swoops into the mix with another gown option right then. “Why don’t you try this one with the lace sleeves?” the shop owner suggests. “It looks so elegant, but edgy at the same time. It says, ‘I may be the bride, but I can still kick your ass, so don’t piss me off’.” She shoots my half-sister a lethal smile.
Hilary huffs and stomps off to look at a rack of dresses on the other side of the room.
Alexia approaches and speaks out the side of her mouth. “Just ignore her. You know how they say that behind every successful man is a woman? Well behind every thriving boss babe is some hating-ass weirdo trying to convince her that she’s not all that. Don’t let her kill the vibe.”
I offer a genuine smile.
Alexia’s a badass, I can tell. Badasses recognize badasses.
Tired but grateful, I take the dress she offers me, turning back to the dressing room to change. Again.
This was a terrible idea. All of it. I should have put my foot down when my mom suggested making a big deal out of this wedding dress thing. I feel like a fraud in every way.
I’m moving into Lincoln’s house tomorrow. All my things are packed into boxes, and my future husband has rented atruck, and this whole fake marriage scheme is starting to get completely out of control.
I’m feeling lost. Unanchored. Drifting. And I’m second-guessing everything.
I slip into another dress, liking this one even less than the first three dozen. But I know my friends will demand to see each and every one. So I trudge back out into the waiting area, and I stand there on display while everyone rambles their opinions.
Well, everyone except for Hilary, who eyeballs me like my whole existence offends her.Given that I’m our dad’s affair baby, I guess it kind of does.
In any case, I’m getting warm. The lacy sleeves are making me itchy, and now my skin is crawling. The neckline is suffocating. This isn’t me.
All this pouffy material. Acres of white tulle. Beaded bodices.Embroidered appliqués.
What have I gotten myself into? What have I gotten myself into? What have I gotten myself into?
My head swims and my palms start to sweat. “Is it hot in here?”
“You okay?” Alba asks, concern written all over her face.
“Thirsty,” I choke out, panic gripping me. “Thirsty. So thirsty.”
I dart over to the big chair where nearly a dozen pouffy dresses lay in a messy pile. “My purse. I can’t find my purse.” Why am I always losing everything?
I whip through heaps of lace and silk, desperate to find my purse, so I can get my water bottle. But my hands are shaking so bad.
“You looking for this, sister?” Hilary sneers from over my right shoulder.
She plops my leather crossbody bag down in front of me and I scramble to unzip it.
