“Robyn. Come out.”
The curtain shifts, and she steps out, and I forget everything I was about to say.
The dress is ivory, somewhere between cream and the faintest blush, and it’s long. It hugs her all the way from the bodice to mid-thigh, then flares just enough to let her walk, the fabric rippling at the hem. The neckline sits low across her chest, deep enough to be undeniably sexy but not by even a fraction too much. There is lace over the bodice, delicate and fitted, with tiny buttons down the back from neck to waist. It’s structured and soft at the same time. It’s classic, and it’s a little bit breathtaking.
“That’s the one,” I say. “You look incredible. Ridge is going to swallow his tongue when he sees you. He’s going to have a heart attack.”
“I hope not.” She giggles.
“You’re going to be at the reception for five minutes because he won’t be able to wait to get you out of that thing,” I say, looking her up and down.
She looks in the mirror and pulls a face. “Do you think so? I think it might be a bit much. I just don’t know. I thought I’d wear one of those poofy dresses. This is…it’s…”
“You look amazing, babe. Insanely beautiful and I’m not just saying that. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
From across the room, Marla presses both hands to her heart, and her colleague makes a sound that is technically professional agreement but is actually pretty much the same aswhat I’m feeling, which is that my best friend is getting married in this dress and it is absolute perfection.
“The lace,” I say. “The buttons. The way that goes from fitted to?—”
“It does fall nicely at the bottom,” she admits, looking down.
“It’s you. It enhances everything that’s great about you. I mean, look at your breasts. Holy shit!” I take her by the shoulders and turn her gently toward the mirrors. “Look at yourself.”
She does, and her face softens as she smooths her hands over the fabric.
“Okay,” she says, after a moment. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Robyn laughs and rolls her eyes. “You’re so modest, Carla.”
“It’s true, and you know it. This reminds me a little of when you tried on that dress for the fundraiser. The one that had Ridge all tied in knots.”
She smiles at me. “It did a great job getting him all riled up.”
The saleslady, Marla, moves in with a small smile. “I think this could be the winner. I would be happy to bring out a few others if you’re still not sure.”
I look at Robyn, my brows raised.
“I think this is it.” She beams.
I clap my hands. “It’s perfect.”
“Okay, then,” Marla says. “Good choice. Step up onto the podium so that I can check the fit.”
Robyn does as she says. Marla runs an eye over the dress, pinching the fabric gently at the back to show where the alterations will go. She makes notes in a small leather-bound pad she keeps in her jacket pocket. Next, she takes out the tape and her pins. She measures and pins and makes more notes.
Her colleague goes in search of veils, which Robyn tries on.
We decide on a fingertip veil in the same ivory, finished with a thin trim of the same lace from the dress. When Marla pins it in place, Robyn gets teary.
My eyes mist up as well. “You look amazing.” I blink to stop from crying.
She sniffs a few times and wipes her eyes, having to stick her hand under the veil.
“You look stunning,” Marla tells her. “Perfect. Take it off, and I’ll put them to the side for alterations. You’ll need to come in a week before your wedding for the final fitting.”
“No problem. My sister will have to try on her dress then too.”
