Chapter Nine
Rosie
After the others get checked in, and we take some group photos in the bridal suite with the decorations—which Mel loves, thank goodness—Daniel disappears with Javier and his father to have a drink.
I head to the dress shop with Javi’s mother, Mel, and her two other bridesmaids, roommates from college. Leigh lives in Paris now, and Leesa flew in from Tulsa. We’ve been in a group chat for months, but this is our first time actually meeting.
They’re nice.
I should be having fun. We pop a bottle of bubbly in the limo, and I take a few sips.
I’d rather be drinking an iced tea and laughing with Daniel. My gut twists at the betrayal of my best friend. It’s her wedding weekend, and I’m falling desperately, pathetically in love with her father.
I should be mad at myself. Plunging headlong into a forbidden crush is a stupid way to celebrate your twenty-first birthday. But I can’t be mad when I remember how it felt to have his arm draped over the back of my chair.
I surreptitiously open my phone and glance at the group text Mel sent when she arrived. It’s the first message she sent to both Daniel and me.
It’s the first time his phone number has been in my phone.
I could text him.
I won’t.
It would be weird.
I should be focused on the wedding stuff. I take another sip of champagne and try desperately to stop thinking about how warm his body was when he leaned in against me.
The relief I feel when we pull up at the dress store is weird and bittersweet.
Inside, it’s easier to get caught up in the excitement.
Leigh hasn’t tried the bridesmaid dress on at all, coming in from out of the country, so she goes first. Melanie picked a simple rose gold slip dress, cut on the bias, and the store has them in all of our sizes plus a few extra sizes just in case.
The second one Leigh tries on is perfect and doesn’t need any alterations, and we all cheer.
I go next. My dress has already been customized to allow more space for my boobs, which always need some management to fit into standard sizes. In the dressing room, I wiggle into the strapless bra I’ll wear on Saturday, then slide the slip dress on over my head.
After twisting and turning to look in the mirror, I step outside, and the girls all clap. “Gorg,” Mel says, toasting me.
The seamstress tells me to leave the dress on until the end, so we can see all of us lined up together.
Then it’s Leesa’s turn. The seamstress makes a joke about their names being similar and their sizes being identical—both of them having standard-sized boobs that require no adjustments.
Then it’s Mel’s turn in the fitting room.
She needs the seamstress to help her into her dress, so the three of us are left alone in the fancy sitting area.
“We are almost exactly the same,” Leesa says to me, gesturing at Leigh. “Except for where we live. And our taste in men.”
“Remember when you had that crush on our English Lit professor our second year?” Leigh makes a face. “He was so old.”
I’m with Leigh. I’d never have a crush on any of my college instructors.
Leesa shrugged. “What can I say? I like ’em with experience.”
“That’s because you’re a lazy bitch who doesn’t want to train a twenty-five-year-old man to eat her out properly.”
My cheeks heat up. Mel can come out of that change room any time now.
“Do you think that Mel isn’t riding Javi’s face every night?”
Too much information. I pull out my phone and think about texting Daniel again.
“Or Mel’s dad,” Leesa says, dropping her voice. “You know someone else is calling him Daddy in that big mansion of his now that she’s moved to the opposite side of the country. Those hands? That fierce glare? I’d call him Daddy this weekend if he’d let me.”
My phone slips out of my hand and hits the carpeted floor with a thud.
The screen lights up. Daniel’s name is on it. Did I accidentally call him?
Leesa and Leigh glance my way as I pick it up, flustered. “Hi! Hello. What’s up?”
“Just checking in,” he says in my ear, his voice familiar and strong.
Someone is calling him Daddy.
My stomach flip-flops dangerously. “She’s about to try her dress on. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No, just wanted to give you a quick update.” I can hear him shift on the other end of the line, and when he speaks again, it sounds like he’s smiling. “So you can update the spreadsheet. Javi’s best man has arrived from L.A.”
“Great.”
He pauses. “Did you try your dress on?”
“Yep.”
Another pause. “Are you okay?”
“Great. Yep.”
“You keep saying those two words.”
“Mmm.”
“Should I ask for a proof of life photo?”
I laugh. “No. Maybe.”
“It’s full steam now. Nothing but wedding stuff all day, every day, for the next three days.”
“Yeah.”
A third pause. “Send me a picture.”
Someone. Calls. Him. Daddy.
Wild, jealous heat swirls through me. And then I remember he means a picture of Mel. His daughter.
The bride.
I exhale. “I will. Oh, she’s done. Talk later.”
Hanging up, I switch to the camera app and snap a few pictures as Mel settles in front of the mirrors.
As the seamstress works, I adjust the aperture in the app and try a few different angles.
Being behind the lens feels good, like I’ve got something to do with my hands, and I can pretend I wasn’t just thrown, again, by this weekend being just too much for me.
When I’m doing something, I can forget this feeling of being a kid playing dress-up, like I don’t belong at this grown-up event, talking about things I can’t relate to.
After the seamstress is finished, she offers to take my phone to snap some pictures, and we all crowd around Mel and ooh and aah over her dress. It’s beautiful, and I tell her that repeatedly.
Leigh and Leesa go into the dressing rooms first, and Mel gives me a cringy look. “I heard what Leesa said about my dad,” she murmured. “Can you run interference if she gets a little too mimosa happy and hits on him?”
“Official maid of honor task?” Easiest assignment yet.
I’ll stab her in the heart with my high heels before letting her get her hands on Daniel.
And fingers crossed, Mel will never find out my glee at the idea of cockblocking the other bridesmaid comes from a deeply selfish, hypocritical place.