“Marie has to go on break, but I’m here to help,” she told me. “Would you like to take another turn around the store and pick a few more dresses? It sounds like you haven’t really had a chance to find oneyoulike. Which is kind of the whole idea, you know?”
“Yes. My God.” I nodded, letting out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry. This is all par for the course. Usually it’s mothers-in-law, though, and they tend to be a lot more iron-willed than your sisters here. Just try to have fun.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
I got back into my clothes and we circled the sales floor, looking for something that spoke to me. It was a beautifully designed store, chandeliers sparkling overhead, all the dresses elegantly displayed. But that was the whole problem. There were somanyof them.
“We also have a book with the rest of our stock. I’ll grab it,” the girl said, darting into a back room and then returning with a thick, well-made binder that weighed a ton.
It had to be at least two hundred pages, with wedding dresses displayed on both sides of each piece of paper. I couldn’t imagine where they kept all of these dresses.
With the binder under my arm, I made my way around the store again.
Everything was breathtaking, gowns covered in sparkling crystals, embellished with handsewn lace, waterfalls of ruffles spilling down them. It was an overload of the senses. I didn’t even know where to direct my eyes, since every time I’d look at one dress, I was immediately distracted by the dress next to it. I’d barely covered a quarter of the salon before I gave up.
“Not seeing anything you like?” the tattooed employee asked.
“I don’t even know what I like,” I confessed.
She laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first,” she said. “Luckily, our job is to make sure you find the perfect dress. And if today isn’t the day, there’s always next time. No pressure.”
“Okay,” I said uneasily.
She must have seen something in my expression, because she gave my arm an encouraging pat.
“I have something that might help,” she said, disappearing into the back room again. But it wasn’t a binder she brought out this time. It was a glass of champagne.
“Here,” she said. “This usually helps take the edge off.”
I took the glass gratefully and downed almost half of it immediately. Then we made one more round of the racks, and by some miracle, I actually managed to find a few dresses that looked moreme. They were simple sheaths, nothing fussy or flouncy, and cut with the kind of universally flattering shapes that I knew would make me feel comfortableandbeautiful.
“Good luck,” the employee said, winking as she dropped me back off at the dressing room and whisked away all the reject gowns.
I stripped down to my underwear and took a deep breath.
The first dress wasn’t right, but it was much better than the others I’d tried. It was sophisticated, without any sparkly embellishments or skin on display. Unfortunately, with the wide boat neck and the vertical seams down the front, it made me look kind of…
“Matronly,” the salesgirl murmured when I stepped out of the dressing room. “No offense. I think it just looks too old for you.”
“Totally agree,” I said. “No offense taken. I appreciate your professional opinion.”
I didn’t even bother showing it off to my sisters. It was the second dress, though, that I knew was something special. It was the perfect combination of classic and modern, feminine but without all the frills and fuss. The moment I had it on, I knew that this was it.
The cut was simple and demure, at least from the front, where it looked similar to the dress Kate Middleton had worn on her wedding day. Long lace sleeves, narrow but plunging neckline, an A-line skirt. Instead of floral appliques on the skirt and bodice, however, my dress was free of additional decoration, and there was no nine-foot train to worry about. The fabric was a lustrous, cream-colored silk charmeuse. It somehow managed to pull off the trick of skimming my curves without exposing or overly accentuating them.
The back, however, was completely open.
It reminded me of the Prada dress, and I knew Ford would love it.
I also loved it, utterly and completely, but I knew I should try on a few more of my choices before I showed Tori and BrooklynThe One. I needed to know for sure that it was the dress I was going to fight for.
I’d just hung it back up behind the others and was standing there in my bra and thong, deciding which to try on next, when I heard the dressing room door creak. I turned around, expecting the salesgirl, but it wasn’t an employee coming in to help me with a zipper.
It was Ford.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
