61. Wedding Weekend
Wedding Weekend
Sheridan
I’ll tell you on our first anniversary.
Our first anniversary…
Those words freak me out more than anything that man has said to me ever.
I’m leaving in just a few days, and saying goodbye then is going to be impossible.
“Twist a little to the left.” The seamstress taps my side. “You lost weight, didn’t you? I wish I could lose weight. If I so much as look at food, it goes straight to my hips.”
Is it really that noticeable?
“Don’t you worry, though. I’ll have everything set, and this will fit you like a glove by tomorrow.”
My life has always been filled with loose, flowy dresses or something with so much stretch it doesn’t need to be adjusted when I gain or lose a bit of weight that it’s odd seeing myself in an outfit that’s fitted to my body.
Very odd.
“What do you mean my dress doesn’t fit?” Dahlia's voice carries over to all of us.
“I’m sorry, we thought your numbers were a typo and fixed them.” Her seamstress clears her throat. “Obviously, we were mistaken. It’s just that they’re so large…Well, it’s not often that…You have…Um…”
Seriously? This woman isn’t body-shaming my friend. “Excuse me. But the only thing you should say right now is that you can either fix the dress to fit my friend’s insanely beautiful figure, or you can order a new one in time.” Look at me sounding so brave and bold.
“I…um…” The woman swallows hard.
“Is there a problem over here?” Winnie walks over, and I just want to grin. This lady is going to regret her life right about now.
“It seems this seamstress doesn’t realize women can have different body types, so she didn’t order the proper size for Dahlia.” And I want to slap her…metaphorically…and maybe literally.
“Well then, just order the right size.” It’s not how Winnie says the words because her tone remains polite…It’s how she says the words.
The seamstress gulps and goes pale. “We…um…there isn’t…um…”
“You seem to have a problem speaking. Why don’t you leave and someone else can help us, because I really don’t want to waste my time or money somewhere that insults my friends.” Winnie stares the woman down.
The seamstress working with me walks over. “We should be able to fix it by pulling out the zipper and putting in a corseted back. It’ll differ slightly from the rest of your dresses, but since every woman is wearing a dress to suit their figure, it should fit in with the style quite well.”
“Maverick is going to lose his mind if I wear a backless dress like that.” Dahlia grins. “I love it. Do you think we could make the back slightly lower even?”
Crisis averted. I smile at Winnie, and she nods back.
“You guys.” Piper rushes out of her fitting room. “Stella’s been hurt.”
“What?”
“How?”
“When?”
“Is it bad?”
We all ask questions until it’s one big blur of noise.
“My jet can be ready in an hour.” Winnie lifts up her phone.
“Maverick’s too.” Dahlia steps out holding her dress to her chest.
“It’s bad. It’s really bad. It took this long for Stella to be awake enough to enter her password. Stella’s face is too bruised for facial recognition.”
Gasps fill the space.
“She’s already had one surgery, and she’s scheduled for another one today.
But her mother asked that we not come. At least not yet.
Stella isn’t up to company, and as soon as they get the surgeries done, they’re going to move her directly into a rehab facility.
The doctors said the rehab isn’t going to be easy, and she’s going to need all the support she can get. ”
“What happened?” Savie steps out in the black dress of every girl’s dreams. It’s glitter and lace, and somehow the old-fashioned style looks like a modern hourglass on her.
“Her horse tripped during the show. He fell on her, and they both hit some of the jump supports.” Piper’s hands shake as she gives us all the news.
“Maybe we should cancel.” Dylan steps forward with tears in her eyes.
“Stella’s mom said to tell you Stella said if you try canceling, she’ll check herself out and come kick your butt. Also, she wants all the pictures.”
“So let’s get her the prettiest pictures.” Tears fill my eyes. “We should set up a team to get pictures until the wedding photographer takes over.”
“Good idea.” Dylan nods.
“Ottilie is really good at that,” Cordelia suggests.
“And I can help out.” Piper volunteers.
“Let’s start with a picture of all of us now.” Ottilie steps forward.
We’re all a mess in different stages with our hair every which way. It’s the perfect time to take a picture.
***
“Okay ladies, we need to get all these tables set. We’re going very simple.
Craft paper first. Followed by shells and candles…
here…here…and here on each table. We need to leave room for the crab boils.
Also, the floral table is going to be labeled for those with a shellfish allergy since there are several with it.
There can be no cross-contamination, so keep those shells away from the floral tables, please…
and have fun.” Dahlia has been coordinating so many of the little details.
Between her and Fiona, this event is going to run like a well-oiled machine…hopefully.
“So what’s going on with you and Fly? Are things getting serious after your date?” Savie slices the paper as I hold it in place.
“I think they are for him.” And that terrifies me.
“But not you?” She sets down the scissors and walks over to grab a few of the candles, placing them carefully in a little cluster.
“How can it be serious for me? This is a vacation fling. A holiday romance. You know how they work. They burn hot and fast and burn out just as quickly.” I grab a bag of the seashells and follow behind her, surrounding each candle in the shells.
“Is that really how you see it?”
No. “Yes.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t see it that way?”
“He’s talking about our first anniversary. How would that even work? I live in Beach Haven, and he lives here. It just doesn’t make sense. Long-distance relationships never work.” Relationships never work for my family. People don’t want to stay forever with trash like me.
I need to get out of my head.
“They don’t historically, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t for you. Are you sure you don’t want to try?”
No. “Yes.”
“Then you should tell him. He’s watching you.” Savie nods towards a space behind me.
I twist to see him staring at me as he carries in chairs.
He winks and keeps going.
“Are you really sure?”
No. “Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
That makes two of us. “What about you and Bram?”