Chapter Thirty-One
ELLIE
It was only Monday, and I was already so over my sister’s wedding.
And by the daggered glare my mother leveled at me the second I stepped into the boutique, she was over me.
“How dare you?” she snapped, blocking my path.
Her voice sliced sharp enough to raise goosebumps down my arms. The other women in the shop glanced over, then pretended to busy themselves with fabric swatches and citrus water the way small-town residents always did when there was drama they desperately wanted to eavesdrop on.
“What are you talking about?” I tried for nonchalance, covering a yawn with the back of my hand. It wasn’t boredom—it was exhaustion. Drew and I hadn’t exactly spent last night sleeping.
Mom smacked my hand down.
The crack echoed louder than it should have. For a second I stood there, stunned. My mother had never hit me before. Something inside me snapped. “DO. NOT. EVER. TOUCH ME.”
Her eyes widened, like I’d just cursed at a priest.
My pulse thundered in my throat. I’d actually confronted her.
Out loud.
And I would not be taking it back.
“She was sobbing last night,” Mom whined, her shock only lasting a moment before she snapped back into character for the camera.
“About how awful it felt to have you upstage her. And it didn’t help with the article in the paper this morning.
You had far more photo coverage than your sister.
And the camera crew seemed to record nothing else but you and Drew. ”
There it was—the spin. The always-lurking cameras; their red lights blinking like vulture eyes.
I hadn’t even registered them last night. Apparently, they made me the star.
Or at least enough of one to make my sister believe the spotlight was off her.
I highly doubted Celia lacked coverage, and regardless, they’d edit me out when the time came.
“I did nothing more than what she asked me to. You were there,” I reminded her, my voice tight.
Apparently, my mother’s shock was short-lived because she was back to harassing me in less than thirty seconds. “She was inconsolable afterward. That Sofia took so many photos and videos of you and Drew ruining her special moment.”
I wanted to remind her that Celia had a lot of “special moments” planned, but kept my mouth shut.
Jenna, one of my sister’s bridesmaids, swept by with her lemon water, and Mom’s frown instantly rearranged into a bright smile.
This was her gift: tear me down in one breath and charm someone else the next.
I wondered if her hardy approval of Jenna was because she’d married a politician last year and now moved in the right circles.
I slipped away to the cluster of bridesmaids while Mom’s attention was on her audience of one.
“Hey, Ellie,” Angie said the moment I sat down. “You did great last night.”
“Thanks,” I responded.
“Have you had a chance to see the bridesmaids’ dresses yet?” she asked.
“Not yet. I guess it’s just another surprise,” I joked weakly.
A few of the other bridesmaids flicked their eyes toward me then away, silent. Were they Celia-loyal, or just afraid of crossing her? Hard to tell.
Angie leaned closer. “They’re a pretty fuchsia color. Straps for us, strapless for Jenna as the maid of honor.”
“I thought you were the maid of honor,” I blurted out.
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
Angie flushed, eyes darting. “No. She didn’t ask me.”
My gut twisted. Celia had cut out her childhood best friend for the notoriety of having Jenna by her side. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. So you really didn’t get the email with the dance moves?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“What about the other ones?”
“What other ones?” My stomach sank. What else had I been missing that was going to be thrust upon me? But that was Celia, and I should’ve expected she would keep me out of the loop.
Angie dug out her phone. “Let me see if I can find them and forward them to you.”
“Thank you.”
A woman in her fifties emerged from the back and smiled warmly at us. “Hello. If we haven’t met, I'm Sally, the owner of this shop. Our bride is just about ready. We had to make a few adjustments, and she can’t wait to show it off to you.”
Our mother took the seat closest to where Celia would be walking out and Jenna sat in the chair on the other side of me.
“This is so exciting. I get to see my baby in her wedding dress.” Mom dabbed at her eyes with a linen handkerchief. When had she started using one of those? Then I saw one of the cameramen discreetly off to the side.
“Did you all make appointments at Curl Up and Dye for the day of the wedding?” I asked Angie.
My mother sniffed delicately and interrupted before Angie could respond. “I’d definitely die if I got my hair done at that podunk salon. There is no way they could handle the caliber of Celia’s wedding. We’re flying in a stylist.”
Ooookay.
Celia peeked her head around the corner with a huge smile on her face. “Are you ready?”
Everyone cheered and I tried my best to yell along with all of them.
Then Celia stepped out in her gown …
… and my world tilted.
My lungs seized, like someone had violently punched the air from them.
Cream lace overlay.
Heart-shaped bodice.
Full bell skirt with four-foot train.
My dress.
The one I’d dreamed about since I was fifteen, tucked in the pages of a secret wedding book I know I’d never shown her.
Celia twirled, basking in the gasps. “What do you think, Ellie?”
My mouth went dry. Tears burned my eyes, but I let everyone believe they were happy ones. I clapped politely, my nails biting into my palms. All I wanted to do was scream, That was mine!
I must have answered because soon the attention was back on Celia.
“You okay?” Angie whispered. “You look a little pale.”
I dragged in a breath. “Fine.”
I wasn’t fine, though. My heart was broken. I didn’t know how she was doing it, but somehow she’d systematically been choosing the wedding dreams I’d so carefully cataloged.
Celia returned to the changing room, and the dresses for the wedding party were handed out. One by one, the ladies walked out, twirled and were applauded. The dresses were perfect and they all looked beautiful.
Then came my turn.
Sally handed me a heavy, oversized garment bag and stepped away as I closed the privacy curtain. Dread pooled in my stomach before I even unzipped it. Something inside me knew today was about to get worse.
The dress was neon-green,with garish neon-pink flowers, like a bad wallpaper sample. I pulled the rest of it out, and the skirt was so poofy it nearly slapped me in the face.
A Frankenstein’s monster of tulle and bad taste.
“Oh, God,” I whispered.
This dress was not like the others.
It felt intentional. It felt crafted.
Like Celia had combed through clearance racks just to make me look ridiculous. My chest tightened as I dragged on the scratchy fabric, its weight suffocating.
“Ellie!” Celia sang. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
My skin crawled as I stepped out. Silence fell. Even the camera seemed to pause, its lens tilting like it was confused.
Celia’s lips curved into mock surprise. “Oh, no. What happened?”
Her eyes gleamed. Just for a second. The tiniest flash of satisfaction. Then she blinked and schooled her face back to faux concern.
“Maybe the wrong code?” Sally suggested, her hands fluttering at her side. “Perhaps the place we ordered the dresses from made a mistake?”
Jenna tilted her head toward me, oh-so-sweetly. “Or maybe you changed it, Ellie. To embarrass your sister.”
The air shifted. Suspicion. My stomach dropped.
“No,” Celia cut in quickly, her voice trembling just enough to sell the performance. “Ellie wouldn’t do that to me.”
And there it was—her genius. Villain and victim all at once.
And the camera loved her for it.
I squared my shoulders and faced my sister head-on. “This is not on me. I wasn’t here with you when you ordered the dresses, remember, Celia? Sally can confirm that.” I leveled a harsh gaze on my sister who was letting this happen and certainly had been the culprit behind the ‘mixup.’
Sally wrung her hands and frowned. “Yes, that’s right. I was with another client and you offered to call in the order, Celia.”
The suspicious gazes swung to Celia. Voices of the other bridesmaids, minus Jenna, murmured amongst themselves, agreeing with me and Sally.
“I would never—” Celia protested, but Mom cut her off.
“Oh, now Ellie. There’s nothing to be done about it right now. We just need you to fix this mess.” Mom patted Celia’s arm. “Maybe we should just go to lunch and let Ellie try to fix things with Sally.”
Celia sniffed. “Okay.”
Everyone left, leaving Sally and me to clean up the mess of dresses and try to locate a dress, any dress, similar to what the other bridesmaids were wearing, and have it shipped here in time.
I messaged Drew and told him I wasn’t going to make it back to the office. After an hour, the headache set in and I was ready to admit it didn’t look like we could fix this mistake in time.
Had Celia intentionally sabotaged me so I wouldn’t be in her wedding?
We arrived at the Axe-Hole about fifteen minutes early. It smelled of sawdust and beer. The thunk of axes against wood was comforting in a primal way, though it did nothing to quiet the tension buzzing in my veins after Boutique Gate, as Drew and I were calling it.
“Drew.” A man greeted him and waved as he approached us.
“Hey man.” Drew gave him a one-armed hug. “Ellie, this is Josh, Nora’s cousin.”
“Thank you so much for opening tonight for my sister,” I shook his hand.
“We don’t often get a wedding party in here. I was hoping to speak to your sister about everyone’s skill level. Do you know if anyone has done this before?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Is that a problem?”
“Not really. I’ve asked a few of my staff to come in for safety reasons and demonstrations. Before we begin, I’ll need everyone to sign waivers. There’s also the matter of the contract. Your sister never came by to sign it and drop off the payment.”