“How long have you two been together?”
Maggie looks up at Jason, giving him an inscrutable look. “Hmm. How long would you say it’s been?”
He quirks an eyebrow back at her. “Depends on what you consider our first date?”
“Well, we went out on quite a few dates before we actually started dating.”
“Uh …” How does that even work? I want to ask the question, but I also don’t want to be rude. Plus, I just met these people.
Maggie laughs. “We met about a year ago. We became official a few months later. So … nine months? Ish?”
“Got it.”
They both chuckle at that, like I made some kind of joke, but I’m rescued from trying to figure out why that’s funny by Jason returning. “It’ll be ready in just a minute. Do you know where you’re planning to take Hailey?” he asks Maggie.
“I have a few places in mind. I wasn’t sure how bridal you were wanting to look, so I figured we could hit a mix of department stores, boutiques, and actual bridal shops.”
“Oh, well, uh …”
“Just give them a chance,” Jason whispers. “If you don’t want a poofy dress with a train, you don’t have to get one.”
“Well, if you’re wanting to take it home, that probably won’t be an option. It takes months to get a wedding dress in if you have to order it. But don’t worry. We’ll find something that you’ll love. I promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hailey
I losetrack of how many dresses I try on and how many stores we go to. Maggie can tell I’m reluctant when she takes me to a bridal boutique, even though I don’t even hesitate.
Well, I guess maybe my steps slow as we approach it, but I’m sure that my feelings are written all over my face. I’ve been told by more than one person that I don’t have much of a poker face.
“Okay, look. I get it. This is a small ceremony, probably at a park, only a few friends as witnesses—which I’m really excited about, by the way. So’s Jack, though it might not have been obvious. He’s been practicing what he’ll say. And if you tell anyone I told you that, I’ll deny it until the day I die.” Then she leans in close. “Seriously, though, it’s adorable. I have a son, and he helped Jack out by setting up some of his stuffed animals for him to practice with.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I took pictures.” I can’t help grinning at that. “And maybe you don’t want to wear white, but they’ll have a variety of gowns in different styles and colors. Plus, they’ll pamper you more thanthe other stores we’ve been to will. It’ll be fun. When else are you going to get to do something like this?”
And with that, she hooks her arm through mine and half-drags me to the door while I’m flailing for an answer.
I don’t have one, though, and she’s not wrong. They do pamper us here, leading us to plushly upholstered straight back chairs ranged in front of a dais that’s surrounded by mirrors. “Can I get you ladies anything to drink? Champagne? Water? Juice?” asks the elegant woman who introduced herself as Shannon after showing us to the seats.
“Oh, I’ll have a water,” I say. We’ve stopped for refreshments a couple of times, but it’s been a while since our last pit stop, and I’m parched.
“And champagne for both of us, please,” adds Maggie with a wide smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course. One moment.” Shannon disappears, coming back with two champagne flutes cradled in one hand and two small bottles of water in the other. She hands me the waters, and I pass one to Maggie. Then she passes us each a champagne flute.
As we sip, she smiles serenely and clasps her hands. “Now, ladies, what are we looking for today?”
Since I have a mouth full of champagne, Maggie does all the talking. Of course, she’s been doing most of the talking this whole trip. Honestly, I don’t mind. She’s kind and friendly and seems to know all the right things to say. It’s a far different experience from hitting the thrift store on half-off day, I’ll say that much. Though I suspect I’d have fun doing that with Maggie too. She’s open and free with her opinion, gushing over what she likes and dismissing things she doesn’t with equal fervor, and I know she won’t lie to me if she thinks I look hideous in a dress.
Especially because at the first store, she said exactly that. I tried on a butter yellow strapless dress with a poofy skirt that stopped well above my knees. “No. Gag. No,” she said. “Thatcolor is awful on you, and I don’t like the style either. I mean …” She’d grimaced, looking at me guiltily. “Unless you love it, of course. Then it’s wonderful.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “No. I don’t like it at all. Plus, I tried sitting down just to see if I could, and there’s barely enough fabric to cover my ass. Pass.”
She’d sighed with relief. “Oh, good. Okay. Next!”
Over the course of the last few hours, we’ve narrowed down that I look better in colors on the cool side of the spectrum—so no yellows or oranges for sure—and I’ve realized I want straps. No strapless bras for me, thanks.
Maggie rattles off the list of style things we’ve figured out, and finishes off with, “And we need something we can buy off the rack. Slight alterations are okay if you have someone who can handle it quickly.” With a wide grin, she says, “Hailey’s eloping, so the timeline is pretty short.”
Shannon’s eyes go wide at that news. “Okay. Well, that does narrow down our choices a bit. Let me see what we have that might fit you. I’ll just pull everything that’s available in something close to your size, and we’ll see what we can do. Sound good?”
