Chapter 22
Charlotte
“What’s the difference between a trumpet skirt and a mermaid skirt?
” Holly asks as she sifts through dresses on the rack.
We are back at Chiffon and Charm, but this time it’s for wedding gowns.
This is one detail I didn’t think I’d be asked to supervise, but Holly insisted.
Since she doesn’t have a maid of honor, she wanted my help.
She has a close group of friends who are all equally important to her, and it would be too much for all of them to deal with the dress.
It’s common to do it this way now, and many modern women have ditched titles in the wedding party altogether. Turning the wedding party into a hierarchy may have worked in the past, but now it seems to create a lot of unwanted drama.
It is a little weird that she wants me here. But here I am, not just as the wedding planner, but for input. I tried telling her that her friends know her better than I do, but Holly claimed that I have an intuition that is second to none.
I am sitting on the velvet, half-moon white couch, front and center. Holly is rummaging through wedding dresses.
“The trumpet’s flair starts in the thighs and gradually opens,” I tell her. No one else has answered her questions yet. “The mermaid skirt fits nearly to the knees and then flares dramatically. It kind of looks like a fin, hence the name.”
“Exactly,” the shop owner says with a smile. Holly crinkles her nose and says, “I don’t think either of those are for me.”
“What about a princess cut?” her friend Courtney asks. “With a long train?”
“Nah, I’d be tripping over it all night,” she shakes her head. “And how would I sit?”
“You can always get a little white dress to change into at the reception,” I suggest.
“I don’t want more than one dress,” she says.
“So maybe something a little retro,” Ashley says, “like a fifties style or a short hippie dress?”
Holly lets out a sigh, and I swear it’s the first time I’ve seen her frustrated.
“I don’t know. I feel like so much of the wedding is already non-traditional. I love everything I’ve chosen so far, but for the dress, I don’t know. It feels different,” she says, sitting down.
I stand up. I don’t know why.
Choosing the wedding dress for my ex-boyfriend’s bride to be is weird, but I am their wedding planner. The dress is the most important part, and I know dresses.
“Not everything has to be eccentric,” I say, walking over to the line of dresses. “The cake, the colors, the food, and the music selections are already non-traditional. I think it’s saying something for the dress to be very simple.”
“But not boring,” she says.
“No. Not at all. But think about it. A simple white dress with no frills. Because you are the frill. You are where people’s eyes should be, not your dress.
It should complement you and nothing more,” I say as I sift through dresses.
Then I see it. It’s neither form-fitted nor poofy.
It’s a simple soft chiffon with a winged top to accentuate the chest without overdoing it.
The train is just the right length, and the waistline will show off her curves beautifully.
“What about something like this?” I say, holding it out.
“It’s timeless,” the shop owner says, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“And elegant,” Brianna, one of the bridesmaids adds.
“It’s lovely,” Holly says, standing up.
She takes it from me with a smile and heads off to the fitting room with her normal skip. A moment later she returns, and everyone gasps. Even my jaw drops a little.
“That is…” Courtney beams.
“Perfect,” Brianna says.
“The one,” Ashley adds.
As Holly spins, the dress flares around her like Cinderella's. It’s perfect in every way. My eyes are stinging with tears, but I can’t figure out why.
“I love it,” she says. “This is it. This is the one. And I owe it all to you.”
She turns to face me with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t thank you enough, Charlotte. You really are the best wedding planner ever. This dress is amazing.”
“It really is,” I say with a smile, but my throat is tight.
“Ben is going to love it,” she says.
And with that, I rush off to the bathroom.
I don’t know if it’s too hot in here. I don’t know if it’s the dress and how perfect it is.
I don’t know if it’s her mentioning Ben.
I don’t know if it’s a symptom of my recent condition.
Whatever it is, it has me puking the moment I bend over the toilet.
It’s violent and gross and out of nowhere, leaving me panting and sweating and a mortified hot mess.
Suddenly, to make matters so much worse, I hear the door open. “Charlotte? Charlotte, are you alright?”
It’s Holly. Of course. Because why wouldn’t she be checking on me?
“Yeah. I’m fine, I just…”
“Are you sick?” she asks, and as much as I want to lie, I can’t. I’m so green around the gills I don’t know if it’s safe to leave the stall just yet. So I don’t. I sit down on the floor, hoping and praying that the bridal shop recently cleaned its floors with bleach.
“Yeah, I am,” I admit woefully.
“Gosh, was it brunch? I know you got the crab cake benedict,” she says, standing outside the stall door. I can see the dress underneath, and it’s honestly not helping. My head starts to rush again, and the next thing I know, I’m leaning over the toilet again for round two.
“Oh, Charlotte,” she says. “Should I call someone?”
“No,” I say between wretches. Then I wipe my mouth, hoping the worst of it is over. But as I sit back again, my back to the door, my head is still spinning.
“Are you sure? You seem like you’re really struggling in there. I could call for medical help. Or Ben. Ben and the guys are supposed to be at the tux side of the shop right now. I bet he could give you a ride to–”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. I don’t know why I tell her. Maybe because it sucks hiding it and not telling anyone. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. Maybe I just needed to say it out loud.
That, and I’d rather do anything but get in a car with my ex-boyfriend right now.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Well, that’s great. Isn’t it?”
The way she asks the question, I know she knows it isn’t all that great.
“It’s complicated…” I admit. She slides down the door and sits on the floor on the other side of the door in the unpaid-for wedding gown. I can feel her back on the other side of mine, and my heart aches in my chest. Right now, I am feeling a million things at once.
She’s my ex’s fiancée. My ex wasn’t in love with me because he needed someone like her. I know I wasn’t in love with him either, but this is still hard.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. And that’s all she says. It’s like she knows that this moment doesn’t need more than that.
I am actually the first to break the silence. Because I need air. I need to get out of here. I need to clear my head about literally everything, so I push myself to my feet, square my shoulders and open the door.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I say.
Holly looks up at me with tears in her eyes. Not only is she pretty, fun, outgoing, and sweet. She’s an empath too. She’s crying for me. I hold out a hand and help her to her feet.
“I would never. Promise,” she says, and I believe her. I believe her because she is that great. “If you want to take a break, that’s okay,” she says, and I nod.
“I think that’s probably a good idea,” I admit. Then she hugs me, and I actually hug her back. Before I walk through the door, I look back. “Holly? Buy the dress,” I tell her.
I exit through the tux shop because I don’t feel like answering a million questions from the girls. But I forgot Holly said the guys are in there. And two of those guys are Ben and Gavin.
I run into Ben first.
“Hey,” he says, and I stop so abruptly I think I leave skid marks on the floor.
“Hey,” I say back.
“Having fun over there?” he nods.
I force a smile. “Yeah. Loads.”
“Cool,” he nods.
“Yeah.”
Then his eyes narrow a little. “You feeling okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m just a little hot. It’s warm in there. I need some fresh air.”
He nods. I give him a half-wave and make a break for the door. My heart is racing a mile a minute, and I know I’m on the cusp of a full-on panic attack.
“Charlotte?” Gavin’s voice comes from behind me, and I stop again. And so does my jackrabbiting heart.
Slowly, I turn around. “I’m fine,” I answer the question before he has the opportunity to ask it.
“No, you’re not,” he says, jogging over to me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What happened back there?”
“It’s nothing,” I shake my head and wave, attempting and failing to smile.
“No, it’s not,” he presses. “You’re crying. Talk to me,” he says. That’s when I realize, he’s right. The tears burning the backs of my eyes stream unapologetically down my cheeks.
“It’s everything. It’s trying to make everything perfect. It’s hoping it’s all coming together even though it feels like everything is out of control,” I say.
“But everything has been perfect,” Gavin says as he approaches me in a tux. “Perfect for Ben and Holly. What feels like it’s out of control?”
“My life,” I cry. “Nobody gets it. Nobody sees it. While I’m checking every detail off a list to make sure that everyone else is happy and gets what they want and need, my life is unraveling, and I don’t even know why.
I don’t know why it suddenly bothers me seeing other people so happy.
That used to be my favorite part of this job, and now I just find myself being selfishly jealous.
Which is ridiculous. It’s just a dress…just a stupidly perfect dress.
I’d wear it myself, except I’m always the planner and never the bride. ”
As if my word vomit isn’t enough, I am officially sobbing. But Gavin isn’t put off. He doesn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, he just pulls me against him, and because I am such a hot mess right now, I let him.
I cry into his chest, into a tux he doesn’t own about a dress I’ll never wear. Neither of us says anything until my tears are dry and the shaking has stopped. When I finally pull away, I feel drained. My skin is all blotchy and my nose is running.
“Here,” he says, pulling the handkerchief from his tuxedo jacket pocket and handing it to me. Olive green, of course.
“I’ll get it all messy,” I sniff.
“You can’t make it look any worse,” he jokes, and it actually makes me laugh.
“I’m a mess,” I say, dabbing my eyes with the hideous hanky.
“Maybe so,” he says. “But you’re beautiful, even if you are a mess.”
“Thanks,” I say. “You’re not so bad either. Even if your tie is the color of a used hanky.”
We both laugh and honestly, I feel a little bit better.