21. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
CHARLOTTE
T he moment the door to the bridal boutique swings open, a bell above the threshold chimes, its soft tinkle cutting through the low hum of conversation. The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut roses and the faint, sweet trace of vanilla from scented candles flickering softly on the counters. Rows of delicate gowns shimmering in white, ivory, and blush, line the walls, their lace and silk sparkling under the soft lighting.
It feels like stepping into a dream—or a nightmare, depending on your point of view. Today, I’m not sure which is more fitting.
A woman standing behind the counter, clad in a sleek black dress with a touch of understated elegance, smiles warmly at my approach. “Let me guess, you’re the lovely Charlotte?”
My brows rise. “Um, yes?” I say, like it’s a question.
She chuckles. “Right this way,” she says, motioning me to follow as she guides me toward the back of the boutique. “Your soon-to-be stepmother told me all about you. She’s so excited for your arrival. I hope you don’t mind, but while we were chatting, we picked a few maid of honor dresses out, just things I thought you might love based on what she told me about you.”
My stomach churns at the thought. Part of me can’t believe I’m here, but before I can respond, she motions toward a narrow hallway at the back of the store. “The fitting area is just down the hall to the right. Barb is waiting there with our associate, Marti.”
I try for a smile, but it’s wobbly at best, so I brush past her and follow her directions.
At the end of the hallway, I make a right as she said and step into a large room filled with plush ivory chairs and mirrors covering every square inch. Each fitting room is curtained off with pale chiffon, offering a sense of privacy despite the boutique’s open design. On the far wall, sits a coffee bar as well as a wet bar and that’s where I find Barb quietly sipping a glass of champagne while chatting with another sales associate, who I assume is Marti.
My heels click on the marble tiles, and both heads turn.
Barb’s face lights up immediately, her blue eyes shining as I try for a smile, this time succeeding. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at my last class,” I lie.
The truth is, I contemplated canceling. Even on the drive here, I wanted nothing more than to turn back around and forget the deal I made with my father because the thought of trying on maid of honor dresses for his second marriage and helping Barb pick out a wedding gown while she recites her vows makes me want to vomit. The only thing that got me here is the reminder of how happy Chris was when I told him?and the fact that my father already cut my mother a check, one she desperately needs.
“It’s fine. Marti and I were just talking about you.” Barb smiles. “Champagne?” She lifts an untouched glass off the countertop beside her, and I nod.
If I’m to make it through the night, I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get.
Stepping forward, I take the offered champagne, then accept a one-armed hug from Barb before I down half the glass at once.
“Now, I hope you don’t mind,” she says, hooking her arm in mine, “but?”
“You guys already picked a few dresses for me to try?”
When Barb winces, I reassure her with a smile. “The other sales lady told me, but it’s totally fine.” Honestly, I don’t care what the hell I wear to this thing. It’s not exactly a memory I want to embrace.
“Well, don’t be afraid to voice your opinion and pick something else,” she says as we come to a stop in front of one of the dressing rooms. “I want whatever you’re comfortable in. Anything is on the table. All that matters is that you love the dress you get.”
“We’ve hung the dresses inside already,” Marti says, pulling the chiffon curtain aside. “But if you need a different size, or none of these suit you, just holler. I like to hover in the background until I’m needed. I find most people want to enjoy the experience without constantly being bombarded, but I’ll be right there if you need me.” She points to a small desk across the room. “Barbie has you booked for the bridal suite for the next three-and-a-half hours, so you have tons of time. A small catered supper will be set out for you in a little over an hour, but until then, we have plenty of champagne, bottled water, and chocolate-covered strawberries on the bar.”
Barb’s cheeks pinken as I glance over at her, my mouth agape. “Your father reserved it for us,” she says, playing with her hands out in front of herself. “I told him it was a bit extravagant, scheduling a private fitting like this, but he insisted. I think he was just so excited when you told him you’d come that he wanted to pull out all the stops and make it truly special.” She shrugs, her expression sheepish. “I told him I’m just glad you’re here. I would’ve done this any time, with a million other ladies crammed into this very room.”
Damn. Way to make a girl feel like shit.
Here I am, wishing I were absolutely anywhere else in the world right now, and Barb is being the world’s biggest sweetheart.
This isn’t about her, I remind myself. It’s about my father and why he shouldn’t be getting married.
But that’s no reason why I can’t try and make this evening enjoyable.
“My father can afford it,” I say. Pushing aside my guilt, I reach out and give her hands a little squeeze. “So, if he wants to do this for you, then I say let him. We’ll drink all the champagne we can get our hands on, eat whatever lavish dinner they send our way, then lament about how we’ll need to lose five pounds just to fit into the dresses we find.”
I grin as I turn toward the fitting room, taking in the jeweled-toned hues of the dresses on the rack. They’re exactly the kind of gowns I would’ve chosen for myself.
Warmth unravels inside my chest. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all?
“Oh, and one more thing . . .” I say, with a glance over my shoulder. “I’m gonna need a couple of those chocolate-covered strawberries.”
I pop another strawberry in my mouth, staring at the wine-colored gown I chose.
“It really is gorgeous,” Barb says, admiring it.
“I just love the color.”
“Mm-hmm. It’s like a good merlot,” Barb says, tilting her head as she stares at it.
“Well, now that we’re done with me, it’s your turn. Are you ready to try some on?” I ask, eyeing her closely.
She bites her lower lip, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “I’ve been ready. There’s actually a couple of dresses I’ve been eyeing since I got here.”
“Well, then what are we waiting for?” I ask, motioning for her to lead the way. “Time to start picking.”
Barb practically vibrates with excitement as we hurry down the hall and into the showroom. Her love for my father is obvious, and though I can’t say I’m happy for them, because I still think this is a mistake, I can’t help but share a little bit of her enthusiasm.
“Just hand me over the dresses, ladies, and I’ll be sure to get them set up in your room,” Marti says from behind us.
True to her word, she’s been like a ghost over the last hour: hovering somewhere nearby, present when we need her, but also out of sight when we don’t.
Barb immediately pulls the two gowns she’d seen earlier and hands them to Marti before she and I start sifting through the racks together. “So, what kind of look are you going for?” I ask. “Any particular styles?”
“I think I want something simple. Clean lines but elegant. When I married Benjamin, I was covered from head to toe in lace with a train that weighed about twenty pounds.” She gasps and covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . is that weird? Mentioning my former husband when I’m about to marry your father?”
I shake my head, flicking through a couple dresses in front of me. “No. It’s no secret you were married, and you should be proud. You had a successful, happy marriage. He’s a part of who you are. You have children, and a history no one can erase or take away from you. It’s important you remember that.”
Just like it’s important for my father to remember the same. Because it seems like ever since he left my mother, he’s been doing nothing but trying to forget.
Her expression softens as she turns back to the gowns. “Well, though I loved that dress, this time, I’d like something far more understated.”
“Like this?” I pull the dress at my fingertips off the rack and hold it out for her to see.
It’s a simple sheath dress in a delicate crepey fabric that hangs effortlessly to the floor, it’s tiny train puddling like a pool of white ink.
“It’s gorgeous.” Barb gasps.
“You should definitely try it on,” I say, handing it off to Marti.
“Oh, Charlotte,” Barb says, stepping toward me as I turn back around. Taking my hands in hers, she meets my gaze with watery eyes. “Thank you for being here. For supporting us. I was so certain you weren’t going to come around, and I . . . I know your relationship with your father has been strained at times, but you mean so much to him; you really do. Which means you mean so much to me, and so having you here, supporting me . . .” She shakes her head, her voice thick when she continues, “Well, I don’t know if Chris is the reason for your change of heart, or your father, but it’s all I could ever ask for.”
I swallow, my heart tugging at the tenderness in her voice and the emotion shining in her sapphire eyes. I never imagined I’d be in a situation where I’d be helping another woman choose a wedding dress to walk down the aisle with my father, but standing here with Barb, my soon-to-be stepmother, feels kind of like trying on a bonus family. One built not on blood, but on quiet, shared moments just like this one?the kind of moments I should be having with my own mother?and I can’t say I don’t like the way it fits.
I only wonder how Chris and I will fit into this dynamic. If things between us progress, what will Barb think of us? What will my father think of us?
I can’t imagine him being happy at the prospect of me dating one of his stepsons, but then again, most of the choices he’s made since the divorce have been questionable, so I’m not sure I give a shit what he thinks.
It’s with this thought in mind that I give Barb’s hands a little squeeze. “Your son is certainly persuasive,” I say, unable to admit the truth?that I’m here because I struck a deal with my father. Then, needing a little levity, I reach out and grab a massive tulle monstrosity off the rack that looks like Glinda the Good Witch threw up a bucket of silver glitter. “But if you wear a gown like this, I’m afraid I can no longer support your union.” I hold the dress out in front of me.
Barb tips her head back and laughs, wiping at the moisture in her eyes as she takes in the dress with wide eyes. “Wow. That really is hideous, isn’t it?”
“Deplorable.” A wicked grin splits my lips as I glance back at Marti. “What do you say, just to have a little fun with Marti, you try a few of these abominations on?”
Barb blinks, her smile spreading as she catches on. “The ugliest dresses we can find?”
“The five most hideous dresses in this place,” I say with a chuckle. “You’ll try on the real dresses, of course, but let’s have some fun while you’re at it.”
Barb nods. “Everything we say will be the opposite. So, the dresses we love the most, the real winners, we’ll act like we detest, and we’ll pretend like I’m going to pick one of the horrid ones just to see her reaction.”
I press my lips together to stifle my laugh. “Do you think she’ll try to talk you out of it?”
Barb glances down at the price tag of the tulle cloud in my hands and she hisses. “Lord no. This thing is three grand. She’ll take her commission with a smile.”
“ Nooo ,” I drawl, unable to believe it. Anyone that allows someone to buy something so terrible for the most special day of their life should be shot.
“Yes,” Barb nods. “Ten bucks says she lets me buy an ugly gown.”
I narrow my eyes, lips quirking. “Okay. Ten says she subtly steers you toward something human.”
“You’re on.” Barb stretches her hand out for me to shake, and I clasp it in mine with a little snicker.
“Hey, Marti,” I call behind me, holding the dress up. “My stepmother would like to try on this one, too.”
Forty-five minutes later, Barb emerges from the fitting room in the crepe sheath dress I picked out, eyes shining as she steps up onto the little podium in front of the three-way mirrors. Marti gasps from her perch nearby before she insists Barb try it on with a veil and scurries off to fetch one.
“What do you think?” Barb says, turning and glancing behind her at the mini train that pools around her feet like a white puddle of silk.
“It’s breathtaking. You look . . .” I shake my head, truly at a loss for words. I already knew Barb looked good for her age. With her slim, hourglass figure, long, silky blonde locks, creamy skin, high cheekbones, and bright blue eyes, she’s undoubtedly gorgeous, but in this dress, she’s a knockout.
“I think it’s the one,” Barb whispers in reverence at the same time Marti scurries back into the room with a veil so thin and delicate, it’s practically transparent.
“Hair up or down?” Marti asks as she approaches.
Barb’s eyes find mine in the mirror.
“Up, definitely,” I say. “It’ll showcase your long neck and prominent cheekbones.”
“Up,” Barb repeats, unable to hide her smile.
Marti twists Barb’s hair into an impromptu knot at the base of her head, pinning it in place like she’s done it a thousand times, before securing the veil on Barb’s head. Taking a step back, she beams at Barb, and it’s not hard to tell which is her favorite out of the dozen dresses Barb’s tried on.
I swallow as I take Barb in: The way the dress hugs every single one of her curves, to her flushed cheeks, and blue eyes radiating happiness. My father will have a stroke when she walks down the aisle; she’s that beautiful.
It’s perfect, I mouth at Marti’s back.
Barb nods, her eyes shifting to the bodice as she shrugs and says, “Eh, we’ll put it in the maybe pile, but I think it’s too plain. You know, I really think maybe I want something different. Something super unique.”
“Yeah,” I say, tapping my chin in contemplation as I play along. “Something that screams Look at me, I’ve arrived !”
“Exactly!” Barb points, pressing her lips together to stifle a laugh.
“You should definitely try the tulle one.”
“Good idea. This is probably too sexy, anyway. Don’t want to give the man a heart attack, you know,” she says, patting a gaping Marti on the arm. “It’s not like we’re spring chickens anymore.”
“Um, the food is almost here,” Marti stammers. “Are you sure you don’t want to have some dinner, maybe think about it?” she asks, scurrying after Barb toward the fitting room.
“Nope. I’m feeling good, actually. We can eat after I try a couple of these other gowns on. The perfect one is right at my fingertips. I can feel it.”
“Oooh, ooh.” I clasp my hands out in front of me. “Please try on the tissue dress after the tulle one.”
“The tissue dress?” Marti asks, glancing between us.
“Oh, yes!” Barb snaps her fingers and points at me, then says to Marti, “You know, that really soft and pretty one that looks like a bunch of wadded-up tissues all over it?”
I wink at her as Marti’s mouth parts, eyes rounding in shock, and for a moment I think she might faint. “Of course,” she says, her voice strained, “whatever you want. Just . . . take this one off, and I’ll set it aside just in case.”
Stifling a laugh, I head back to my seat and sink down with my glass of champagne. “I’ll be right out here waiting.”
Three monstrous dresses later, Barb and I are having too much fun with our charade as I walk with her back to the dressing room in a gown resembling a white trash bag.
“Did you see her face on that last one?” I say with a laugh. “I thought she was gonna cry.”
Barb tips her head back and laughs. “It’s so funny I almost feel sorry for her. I can’t believe she thinks I’m serious about these.”
“I don’t know. She might be on to us,” I say, casting a glance to where Marti is perched, staring longingly at the crepe sheath dress.
“I’m not so sure. But I’m also growing more and more uncertain of who’s going to win the bet. She seems to be going along with the ugly dresses, but unable to let go of her grip on my real gown.”
“Agreed. I might be ten bucks richer at the end of the day.”
Barb waves me off. “The relief on her face when I tell her I want the sheath gown will be worth the ten-spot.”
I snicker and shut the door behind her so she can try on one last ugly dress?a poof of white lace with a high-low skirt, huge balloon sleeves, and a beaded neckline that resembles something like a dog collar.
Five minutes later, the curtain to the dressing room slides open and Barb steps out.
Behind me, I hear Marti groan under her breath, and as I bite my lower lip to stifle a laugh, my cell phone rings.
Snatching it up, I glance at the screen, prepared to silence it when I catch Carol’s name and freeze.
I stiffen, my grip tightening as I swallow over the anxiety clutching at my chest.
“Is everything okay?” Barb asks from her spot in front of the mirror, her gaze focused on me in concern.
“Uh, yeah. I’m sure it’s fine,” I say, trying and failing to smile. “I just . . .” I lift my phone out in front of me, my heart banging against my ribs. “I need to take this really quick.”
“Take your time,” she calls out as I rise from my seat.
Crossing the room, I hurry down the hall and back out into the main shop, away from prying ears as I answer. “Carol, what’s wrong?”
“It’s bad, Charlotte.”
My stomach drops to the ground at my feet, and I stumble. “What’s going on?”
“Your mother fired me.”
I pause, my eyes widening. “She fired you? But my father gave her money,” I hiss into the phone, looking around to make sure no one’s listening. “She has the means to pay you now. There’s no need for her to fire you.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe she didn’t take it. I don’t know.”
“Slow down,” I say, trying to keep calm. “Tell me exactly what happened, everything she said.”
If my father lied to me about the money, I’m going to kill him.
“I was urging her to call Dr. Sherri, and she snapped, went on some rant about how she can’t afford to see her anymore and she wasn’t helping her anyhow. Said something about no one caring about her unless something’s in it for them, and that the only reason I care is because I get paid. Then she demanded I leave. When I argued with her, she went on about how as soon as I sold my house, I’d be gone anyway, so I might as well go now.”
“Shit,” I hiss. “I assume she’s not taking her meds?”
“You assume correctly. And you know I’d help your mama without the pay. I care about her, Charlotte, I always have. But when I suggested as much, it only seemed to aggravate her further.”
“I know. This isn’t about you. I just don’t understand why she’d do this if she has a check coming to her every month again. There’s no need. I talked with my father and worked it out. He’s going to help her while I get her medicated and in therapy, then find her another job.”
“This is too much for you, Charlotte. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
No shit .
“I know,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “But I’m not sure I have much of a choice.”
Because if I don’t help her, no one will.
“I’ll handle it,” I say finally. “I need to call my father, see exactly what he said to her when he sent her the check. Maybe there’s some sort of misunderstanding, or . . .” I refuse to think he lied. Dad isn’t the type to go back on a deal, but something doesn’t add up. “I don’t know, but I’ll take it from here.”
“I tried to get through to her.”
“I know you did. Don’t worry about it, Carol. I’ll shoot you a text once I work it out. No worries,” I say, even though my stomach is tied in knots with worry.
I hang up and dial my father, relieved when he answers on the first ring. “What did you say to Mom when you gave her the check?” I blurt out, bypassing any pleasantries. “I thought you took care of everything?”
“Charlotte, aren’t you supposed to be dress shopping with Barb right now?”
“Yeah, actually, I am, because I know how to keep my end of a bargain,” I hiss. “Do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, sounding offended.
“I just got off the phone with Carol. Mom fired her. Apparently, she’s going off the rails. Carol said she was talking about not having the money to pay her anymore or Dr. Sherri or continue her meds. So, explain to me why she would say all those things if you kept up your end of the bargain?”
Silence falls over the line, and for a moment I think I lost him before he sighs and says, “I don’t know why she would say that.”
“I think you do,” I say, almost certain he does.
“When I stopped by her place, she was especially difficult. First, it was tears, and then the tears turned into anger and accusations, and . . . I might have lost my patience.”
I bring a hand to my forehead, easing the tension above my eyes. “And?”
“And I told her that the money was only temporary, that she has until March before I cut her off, and that this is it. There’s no more after that.”
Because he’ll have a new family. I can read between the lines. It’s exactly what he said to me himself.
Irritation pricks beneath the surface of my skin. “You mentioned the wedding and your new family, didn’t you?”
He says nothing, his silence telling.
“Why the hell would you tell her that?” I hiss. “You know how she is. You know she’s already spiraling. Even the tiniest things set her off when she’s like this. Reminding her of your new family wasn’t exactly the best move,” I say bitterly.
“Well, it’s the truth, Charlotte, and what else was I supposed to say? She needs to know she has to start supporting herself again, that things can’t go on like this! That you can’t always help to bail her out.”
“All I needed was you to do this one thing,” I shout, drawing the attention of the sales lady behind the counter. “Just give her the support she needs for the next five months while I handle the rest. All I needed was for her to feel secure, until I could get her back to Dr. Sherri. Get some meds in her, and make sure she finds a job. But noooo ,” I draw out the word, “you couldn’t do that, could you? You just had to go and ruin it by running your mouth.”
“It’s not like that. I told her she’d have all the financial support she needs in the meantime, but she started attacking my character and?”
I bark out a laugh.
“It’s not funny. She can’t just use me as a punching bag, Charlotte. We’re not married anymore.”
“I’m well aware.” My throat aches with the urge to cry, but I swallow the tears, choking on them until the urge fades. Now isn’t the time or place, and I refuse to sound weak in front of my father.
“I’ll talk to her again,” he says, his tone soft. “This time over the phone. I’ll smooth things over, okay? I’ll . . . I’ll do what I can.”
“You know what? Forget it. I don’t need your help. Just send the checks like you promised, and I’ll handle the rest. You’ve done enough.”
“Charlotte . . .”
“Gotta go. Your bride is waiting.”
“Charlotte, I know you’re angry with me, but please don’t mention any of this to Barb. She—”
I hang up and tuck my phone in my pocket, taking a deep breath before I straighten and head back toward the dressing room with my thoughts racing.
Barb still waits on the podium, standing like a statue in front of the mirrors. She’d look like one of those bride-and-groom cake toppers if it wasn’t for the hideous gown she’s wearing.
When her gaze snags on my reflection, she turns. “Is everything okay?”
My gaze sweeps over her, taking in the poofy sleeves and the hideous collar around her neck. The fun we’d been having seems like a lifetime ago with my father’s conversation bitter on my tongue. “Yeah, it’s fine,” I say.
I want nothing more than to tell her just how much this wedding is messing with my life. How much her fiancé just pissed me off, but I don’t. Instead, I sink down in the chair across from her with a sigh. If my father doesn’t want me to mention our conversation, I won’t, because unlike him, I know how to uphold my end of a bargain.