I stop in my tracks. “You mean it wasn’t random? Finding the dress?”
She shakes her head. “No, love. It wasn’t happenstance thatyoufound it. I left the dress out for you two. I saw the video from the arena. And when you walked into the store with him, and he went to the dressing room and kissed you like he meant it—I just knew. And I wanted my niece’s list to wind up in the right hands.”
My heart lurches. The breath leaves my lungs. “She was your niece?”
“Yes. Her name was Katrina,” she says, her voice catching.
Not our made-up name of Lacey, but Katrina. A real name for a real person with real wishes.
“She died before she could get married. Before she could do those five things before she said I do. I wanted the list to go to someone who understood…well, love.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say before I can even process her words about us and love.
“Me too. She never got her chance to do all those things.”
But I’m here. I have the chance. I can’t waste it. “I think I needed to know that,” I whisper, and even though we haven’t finished the list, I understand what’s unfinished for me.
Before I go, I need to help this woman move along on her journey. I take out my phone, click to the camera roll and say, “My sister wore the wedding dress from Katrina. She looked beautiful. It saved her wedding day. Do you want to see the pictures?”
The woman chokes up, nodding through tears. I show her the images of Caroline and tell her the story. “It fit like a glass slipper.”
She manages a smile through her grief. “Like I said, it wasn’t happenstance. It was meant for you.”
And I’m pretty sure Lake is meant for me too.
On the way to work, I call my friends—one big group call. “How do I do it? How do I tell him?”
Clementine laughs dryly. “This from the woman who just gave up planning romantic moments.”
“Yes, exactly. Ironic, isn’t it?” My hands tremble. This is putting myself out there for real. This is the big risk. “But seriously. What do I do? Or say?”
Mabel jumps in. “You just have to wing it. Embrace your new inner impulsive side. Let the anti-planner in you take over.”
“What she said,” Trevyn adds.
“Do I even have an anti-planner in me?” I ask, meaning it.
“I vote for doing it after work. Keep it simple. Go to his house and tell him there,” Skylar says, laying it out like it’s a set of IKEA furniture assembly instructions—this anti-planned moment.
But really, that’s the key. “It’s time to stop overthinking,” I say.
“Ding, ding, ding,” Clementine says, like she’s proud of me.
“I can do this,” I say.
“Of course you can,” Mabel adds in that supportive tone of hers.
“Girl, we’ll be cheering you on,” Trevyn says.
I picture them doing just that. And it’s a great image.
The fear of being fooled rears its head, but I’m stronger than my fears. Tougher than my anxiety. And finally ready to take a chance.
His house. Tonight. No more planning.
55
A NEW ROMANCE DESIGNER IN TOWN
