Page 112 of The Plus One Pact

Although—

I do have an idea.

Ivy: I'll see what I can do. Are you getting into trouble without me?

He sends me a picture of his kitchen, covered in baking supplies.

Romeo: Don't tell Cyn we're trying to recreate the cake from their first anniversary.

Ivy: That's sweet. They're a good couple. I'm glad we're helping them.

Even if it is by less honest means than I'd prefer.

I let my fake boyfriend return to his baking, and I send Meredith the picture of Cynthia.

While I wait for her feedback, we try to talk about what Cynthia doesn't like about the dress. Despite her model looks, Cynthia has little grasp of fashion vocabulary. She can't articulate whether it's the color, cut, hem, silhouette, or fabric.

She speaks in vibes.

And it's just not the right vibe.

We go through a few more dresses. A frilly princess number in white. Which is really not it. Another ornate dress, in a vibrant shade of red. This time, at least she knows she likes the color, likes that it's untraditional, but she hates the rest.

That's something.

Progress.

I'm not exactly Miss Fashionista, but I think I'm getting somewhere.

I find a few more dresses I think she'll like, bring them to the dressing room, and give her time to assess them.

Finally, Meredith sends a reply with instructions.

Stick with the simple cuts. She looks gorgeous in a sheath, but it may feel too staid for her. A shorter cut might be fun, especially if it's something sassy with a skater skirt. Or hell, go full cocktail and show off those long legs.

Ivory is classic and it looks great, but if she really can't stand how bridal everything is, the answer is color. Color is a hammer though. It takes a dress from a bit bridal to not at all bridal.

I think that fits what I've got, but just in case, I go and grab two more.

As I hand the dresses over the door, I ask, "can I confess something to you?"

"If it's not 'I'm jealous you're so slim.' Or 'you look like a model.' I used to shop with friends, but they'd never stop with the, 'oh my gosh, Cynthia, you're so lucky you can eat whatever you want and stay so thin,' as if I'm lucky I get so anxious I can't eat, you know?"

Uh… I do, actually. "What if I'm only jealous you're so tall?"

"Hmm… I'll allow it, but only because you're tall, so you know about the downsides already." She laughs. "My five-foot-two friends always wish for my legs, but do they want to have to scrunch to fit into an airplane seat? I don't think so."

"No, uh, it's about Rome."

"Oh? Well… you did sorta yada yada over those details, Ivy. I get you don't want to share just exactly how he blew your mind in the bedroom, but, 'we had great sex, and I really liked hanging out with him, so I'm here' isn't the story of a relationship."

"You're right. I, uh, that's kind of what I'm confessing here." This is true, at least. Well, mostly true. "See, Rome and I have been dating, but it's been more casual. I do like him. A lot. But I'm not ready to be a part of someone's family again. I'm not ready to be in someone's life. I just… it's too fresh. Since my divorce."

"I get that," she says.

"But one morning, his mom called, and she heard me, and she got the idea to invite me, I guess. Or the idea to ask Daniel to offer Rome a plus-one. I’m not sure, exactly.”

“It could go either way with the two of them.” She laughs.