Chapter 54
A GLASS SLIPPER
REMY
Elena’s question shadows me that night, and into the next morning as I wake early. I’m not due at the arena for a couple of hours, but I might as well head over soon. I have a few VIP tours to lead today, so that’ll keep me busy as I ponder Elena’s words.
I hop on the bus, but on my way to work, a powerful feeling stops me from stepping into the arena.
Something unfinished.
Something I’ve held close in a bag inside a bag for more than a week.
The list.
I peer outside at the street signs, then quickly google the hours for the dress shop.
The store is already open for the day. I pull the cord, then hop off the bus and race-walk through Hayes Valley to Champagne Taste.
I push open the door, the soft floral perfume drifting past my nose, and the torch singer tunes floating past my ears.
The shopkeeper looks up from her work at the counter, recognition in her eyes. “Hi, love. How was your sister’s wedding?”
I pause, thinking on that. “It was great in the end. She had the wedding she wanted.”
“Wonderful.” A pause. “And the list?”
She’s so warm and so direct. I walk over to her, like there’s an invisible line connecting us, like this store is the final stop on my tour and I didn’t realize it till this morning.
“We did the list. Well, four out of the five items.”
“That surprises me. You two seemed just right; that’s why I left it for you,” she says, her eyes flooding with sadness.
I stop in my tracks. “You mean it wasn’t random? Finding the dress?”
She shakes her head. “No, love. It wasn’t happenstance that you found it.
I left the dress out for you two. I saw the video from the arena.
And when you walked into the store with him, and he went to the dressing room and kissed you like he meant it—I just knew.
And I wanted my niece’s list to wind up in the right hands. ”
My heart lurches. The breath leaves my lungs. “She was your niece?”
“Yes. Her name was Katrina,” she says, her voice catching.
Not our made-up name of Lacey, but Katrina. A real name for a real person with real wishes.
“She died before she could get married. Before she could do those five things before she said I do. I wanted the list to go to someone who understood…well, love.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say before I can even process her words about us and love.
“Me too. She never got her chance to do all those things.”
But I’m here. I have the chance. I can’t waste it. “I think I needed to know that,” I whisper, and even though we haven’t finished the list, I understand what’s unfinished for me.
Before I go, I need to help this woman move along on her journey. I take out my phone, click to the camera roll and say, “My sister wore the wedding dress from Katrina. She looked beautiful. It saved her wedding day. Do you want to see the pictures?”
The woman chokes up, nodding through tears. I show her the images of Caroline and tell her the story. “It fit like a glass slipper.”
She manages a smile through her grief. “Like I said, it wasn’t happenstance. It was meant for you.”
And I’m pretty sure Lake is meant for me too.
On the way to work, I call my friends—one big group call. “How do I do it? How do I tell him?”
Clementine laughs dryly. “This from the woman who just gave up planning romantic moments.”
“Yes, exactly. Ironic, isn’t it?” My hands tremble. This is putting myself out there for real. This is the big risk. “But seriously. What do I do? Or say?”
Mabel jumps in. “You just have to wing it. Embrace your new inner impulsive side. Let the anti-planner in you take over.”
“What she said,” Trevyn adds.
“Do I even have an anti-planner in me?” I ask, meaning it.
“I vote for doing it after work. Keep it simple. Go to his house and tell him there,” Skylar says, laying it out like it’s a set of IKEA furniture assembly instructions—this anti-planned moment.
But really, that’s the key. “It’s time to stop overthinking,” I say.
“Ding, ding, ding,” Clementine says, like she’s proud of me.
“I can do this,” I say.
“Of course you can,” Mabel adds in that supportive tone of hers.
“Girl, we’ll be cheering you on,” Trevyn says.
I picture them doing just that. And it’s a great image.
The fear of being fooled rears its head, but I’m stronger than my fears. Tougher than my anxiety. And finally ready to take a chance.
His house. Tonight. No more planning.