Chapter 8 Emily
The boutique is stunning. Rows of pristine white gowns shimmer under the soft lighting, each more elegant and intricate than the last. A pang comes over me. A part of me wishes that this was for real. That I was actually getting married for love and not to save my father’s company.
The dress I’d picked for my wedding to Daniel had been more of an evening gown but Andrew seemed keen for me to dress in a traditional gown. It’s a small price to pay for what we’re getting in return.
My mother trails behind me, a distant look on her face. Lisa and I exchange a glance. We all know that it’s a business marriage but a wedding is a wedding. I may never get married again and a bit of enthusiasm from my mother would be nice.
“Good morning, ladies,” The saleswoman greets us as we step inside. “I’ve pulled a few dresses based on the details you shared. Shall we get started?”
“Of course,” I reply, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel.
Before I can take another step, Andrew’s mother, Mrs. Bennett, bursts into the room like a whirlwind. She’s dressed to the nines in a tailored cream suit, accessorized with bold jewelry and a scarf that’s almost as vibrant as her personality.
“Emily, darling,” she exclaims, sweeping toward me with open arms. Before I can react, she plants a kiss on both my cheeks, her perfume strong and floral. “I can’t wait until we’re officially mother-in-law and daughter. We’re going to have so much fun planning this wedding together.”
She wasn’t this enthusiastic when I was getting married to Daniel. Maybe Andrew is her favorite son. Or maybe Daniel is and she likes that he’s free!
I smile, feeling a little overwhelmed. Lisa stands behind me, stifling a laugh, and my mother sits quietly, looking even more detached than before .
“It’s wonderful to see you, Mrs. Bennett,” I manage to say, my voice polite.
“Oh, please, call me Barbara,” she says, grabbing my hands and giving them a squeeze. “We’re going to be family soon. None of this ‘Mrs. Bennett’ business.”
She turns to Lisa and my mother, greeting them with the same enthusiasm.
“Oh, darling, look at this place. It’s absolutely exquisite, isn’t it?” She rushes toward the racks of dresses, immediately picking out gowns, holding them up, and then putting them back faster than I can even process.
“Emily, sweetheart, you must try this one,” she calls, pulling out an extravagant gown with layers upon layers of tulle. It looks like something straight out of a royal wedding. “It’s bold, and grand.”
I glance at Lisa, and she arches an eyebrow in silent communication. This is going to be a long day.
Mrs. Bennett floats around the boutique, her presence loud and a bit much. Meanwhile, my mother, in contrast, is quiet and subdued.
She’s flipping through a bridal magazine with a complete lack of interest.
I pull out a dress that’s much simpler, an A-line gown with soft lace detail. Something classic, not too fussy.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Lisa says, running her hand over the fabric. “It’s very you.”
But before I can even get the dress fully into my hands, Mrs. Bennett swishes over, her eyes widening dramatically. “Darling, no, no, no. You don’t want something simple. This is a Bennett wedding. You need grandeur. Something that makes a statement.”
What statement? Has she forgotten that this is a marriage of convenience, not a real marriage?
I glance at my mother, hoping she’ll chime in, but she just gives a weak smile and goes back to flipping through the magazine. I bite back a sigh. I don’t know what I expected, but certainly not this .
“Emily, try this one first,” Mrs. Bennett insists, holding out a ball gown dripping in beaded embellishments.
“Okay,” I say, though it’s more to placate her than because I actually want to wear it.
I step into the fitting room, slipping on the gown with the help of the saleswoman. As soon as I see myself in the mirror, I know it’s not me. The dress is beautiful, sure—sparkling and voluminous, but it’s too much.
It’s not the kind of dress I want to get married in. But when I step out, Mrs. Bennett gasps, her hands flying to her chest.
“Perfection,” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Oh, darling, you look breathtaking. Andrew will be floored when he sees you in it.”
Andrew. I don’t even know what his taste is in women’s clothes, let alone wedding gowns. Not that it matters what he thinks. As long as we both sign the marriage certificate. I could probably walk down the aisle in a sack and he wouldn’t care.
Lisa gives me a subtle look, clearly trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. I catch her eye in the mirror, and we share a silent, knowing exchange. I feel like a cake topper, all frills and no substance.
“What do you think, Emily?” my mother finally asks, sounding as tired as I feel.
“I think it’s a lot,” I say, keeping my tone polite. I glance at Lisa, who’s biting the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back a smirk.
“You look like Cinderella,” Lisa mutters under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
“Not exactly the vibe I’m going for,” I whisper back.
I head back into the fitting room, eager to get out of the dress. The next gown is more my style—a sleek, satin number with a low back and minimal embellishments. It’s elegant and timeless, the kind of dress that feels like me .
When I step out, Mrs. Bennett’s face falls slightly, though she tries to hide her disappointment. “Oh, it’s very understated,” she says, carefully picking her words.
My mother barely glances up. “It’s fine,” she says, flipping another page in the magazine.
I feel a pang of irritation. Lisa stands and walks over, adjusting the dress slightly on my shoulders.
After a few more dresses—none of which spark joy—I finally throw in the towel.
“I haven’t found the dress yet,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’ll keep looking.”
Mrs. Bennett looks slightly crestfallen, but my mother barely reacts. “I have to get back to work,” I add quickly, giving myself an out.
I can’t stand it anymore. I’m touched by Mrs. Bennett’s enthusiasm, really, I am. But all it’s doing is stirring up emotions I’m not ready to deal with.
I expected to come in, quickly pick a dress, and move on with our lives. This wasn’t supposed to be an all-day event or a dramatic ordeal.
Mrs. Bennett’s taste is certainly not mine, and this whole charade that Andrew and I are in love is frankly exhausting. I’d rather we treat this wedding for what it is—a business arrangement.
A practical solution to a practical problem. But that’s not how she sees it. She’s acting like this is some grand love story.
I walk toward the door, feeling a wave of relief at the sight of the exit. Barbara and my mother’s driver are waiting on the curb.
Before she enters the car, Barbara touches my arm. “Emily, darling, we’ll keep looking together, alright? I just know you’ll find the perfect dress.”
I force another smile. “Of course. Thank you, Barbara.” No chance. There’s no way I’m going through this again. I’ll come back alone, get the dress I liked and avoid another circus .
Lisa and I walk a few blocks until we find a coffee shop, where we grab two lattes and collapse into chairs.
Lisa leans back, letting out a low laugh. “I don’t envy you, you know. Your mother-in-law can be a bit overbearing.”
“A bit?” I say, rolling my eyes, exhaustion settling into my bones. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle her. She wasn’t like this when it was Daniel I was getting married to.”
“She probably doesn’t want this chance to slip by again,” Lisa says.
We sip our coffees in silence for a few moments before my phone buzzes. It’s Andrew.
“Did you find a dress?” His voice is casual, but I can hear the interest there.
“No,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “But I’ll keep looking. They’re getting new stock next week, so...” I can’t exactly tell him that I did find the perfect dress for me but it wasn’t good enough for his mother.
“If you like, we can fly out over the weekend. Try some other locations. I hear New York is a fashion center,” he says.
I’m touched by the suggestion. “No, it’s fine. I’ll find one. I promise, I won’t get married in denim.”
He chuckles. “Good to hear.”
Then, after a pause, he adds, “How about dinner next week?”
I hesitate, my mind going back to my dad. “I’ll be pretty busy between now and the wedding.”
There’s silence on the other end, but he doesn’t press. We end the call soon after, and I let out a long sigh.
Lisa watches me carefully. “You’re avoiding him.”
“It’s not that,” I admit. “I just want to spend as much time with my Dad as I can before the wedding. It won’t be the same after I’m married. I can’t keep sneaking out to check on him like I do now.”
“Maybe you should tell Andrew about your dad,” Lisa suggests gently. “He’ll understand. He might even help. ”
That’s not even an option. “I can’t. Dad was adamant that no one find out about his illness. If I tell Andrew, he’ll tell his family, and from there... who knows? The company could take a hit if word gets out.”
Lisa gives me a sympathetic look but doesn’t push. “When are you moving into Andrew’s place?”
“Right before the wedding.” The thought of living in the same house with Andrew terrifies me.
It’s odd but I didn’t feel this way with Daniel. There’s something in the air when I’m with Andrew. A pull. Something I don’t want to feel for anybody, let alone a man marrying me for business purposes.
“Sounds like a plan,” Lisa says, smiling as she sips her coffee.
A sigh escapes my lips. “What a wasted day. Not exactly the kind of day I had envisioned, and no wedding dress.”
Lisa looks thoughtful, “It doesn’t have to be a wasted day, you know.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“You really liked that dress, didn’t you? The simple satin one?” she asks, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I nod slowly, unsure of where she’s going with this.
“Why don’t we go back to the store and get it? You’ll have your dress, and Barbara won’t know you snuck back and made the purchase,” she says, a grin on her face.
I blink, then a grin starts to spread across my face. “That’s the best idea you’ve come up with today.”
Lisa laughs and clinks her coffee cup against mine. “Let’s do it. You’ll feel better once you have your dress, not one Mrs. Bennett pushed on you.”
Guilt comes over me. I know my mother wouldn’t care but Barbara would be terribly hurt. I swallow down my guilt. Our tastes are vastly different and no wedding dress I pick, today or any other day will please her .
Besides, I need to feel like I still have control over something even if it’s as simple as my wedding dress.
“Let’s go,” I say, excitement bubbling up inside me. “Before I change my mind.”
Lisa downs the last of her coffee, and we head out of the café with a new sense of purpose. Back to the boutique, back to my dress. No over-the-top suggestions. Just me, making a choice for myself.