“It’s a maybe for me,” Lou says. “I know it’s my pick, but I feel like we should see more.”
“You are so right!” the attendant says. She claps her hands together and waves Darcy back into the room.
“I agree we should see more, too,” I tell Lou.
“Hey, Lyric?” Lou says, her voice a little smaller. “Do you think Darcy would let me wear that dress?” She points somewhere behind me, so I twist to find what’s got her attention.
“Oh…” It’s a child’s dress, thankfully. I was worried she was going to be pointing at something impossible. I can’t describe it other than to say if Cinderella’s ball dress was pale yellow instead of icy blue—and made for a child—this would be it.
In my mind, it doesn’t work for a wedding approaching fall. I had assumed Darcy would be putting us in jewel tones for a more romantic vibe, but I don’t know for sure.
“Well, as soon as we find Darcy’s dress, we can look for yours,” I say, tone encouraging. I really don’t want to be the one to crush her little heart.
“Darcy wears pretty yellow dresses a lot,” Lou says, pausing to turn back in her seat. “I just wanted a pretty yellow dress, too.”
I’m not going to say anything right now, but if I know Darcy like I think I do, Lou will be having that dress. Because the moment she hears that’s the reason, it’s a done deal.
We refocus our attention as Darcy steps out into the next dress. And the next. And another. All of them are fine. She saved the random dress I picked for last. And when she walks out in it, the tears that brimmed my eyes earlier begin to fall down my cheeks.
Darcy looks at herself in the mirror, her eyes moving from her feet all the way up until she’s looking herself in the eye. And she’s crying too.
“That’s definitely the one,” Lou whispers next to me.
The gown has a beautiful corset top with off-the-shoulder drapey sleeves, beading, and lace down the front. The A-line style isn’t too poofy and doesn’t hug her tight, simply flowing off her. The entire thing feels so elegant and graceful. Timeless.
After several more minutes of sobbing on my part, we finalize the decision, and the attendant takes Darcy’s measurements so they can make the appropriate alterations.
The next thing we do is visit the pale yellow dress. Darcy agrees immediately and shrugs her shoulders at me. Which means “So what if she won’t match. She’s a kid and she’ll be happy. Who cares about a perfect aesthetic?” Personally, I think it’s nice we can have conversations without speaking. It saves time.
But I was right, too. Darcy’s plan was to put us in jewel tones. But since Lou has already gone off script, she tells me to pick whatever I want, too.
I rummage through the racks, running my fingers over the soft fabrics, assessing their shapes and feeling unmoved by all of them.
“What about this one?” Lou says from the other side of the stand.
When I come around the corner, I gasp a little. The deep purple color reminds me of this butterfly on my wall at home. And the sleeves drape just like the wedding dress. There’s a slit up the side that cuts through the sea of silky fabric and is going to expose a lot of leg.
When I try it on, I feel the prettiest I’ve ever felt in my entire life. But all I can think about is Waylon. How he might react when he sees me like this. If he would think I was as beautiful as I would feel. My heart races as I envision the two of us walking down the aisle as best man and maid of honor.
And then I remember that he has no interest in walking down the aisle for any other reason. Not for five or ten years, according to various sources. I mean five is, maybe, reasonable. But ten is excessive. I can’t wait that long. I don’t want to wait that long.
I never really believed in the right person, wrong time thing until now. I just always figured if it was the right person, it would be the right time. But life—I’m finding—isn’t at all that straightforward.
CHAPTER 24
WAYLON
I knowI shouldn’t have said that in the group chat. I didn’t really mean to; it just sort of slipped out. And well, I’m not the type who tries to take it back or act like I didn’t mean what I said. So, it’s out there now.
When I got home, Lyric wasn’t here yet, which surprised me. I definitely thought she’d get here first.
So I took Tater outside, and we’ve been sitting out here ever since. I’ve thrown the ball probably three hundred times—at least that’s how it feels—and he just keeps on going. He’s going to crash out soon, which is fine by me. My arms need to rest.
“Hey there,” Lyric says, her voice projecting from behind me.
I turn to see her standing at the door holding a garment bag. She’s got the widest smile painted on her lips. Not the kind that would come from seeing me. It’s deeper than that.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” I pat my leg, signaling Tater to come inside with me.
