Chapter 19
Claire
I’m in a sea of white.
This shop is every little girl’s dream. Row upon row of lace, satin, tulle, taffeta, beads, and pearls in various shades of white. I feel like I’m in heaven.
Mom and I came to the store on Friday evening, just the two of us. I didn’t want the pressure of anyone else’s opinions. If I don’t find the dress today, we can come back with other people—like Julie—another time.
“What do you envision your perfect day to look like?” the consultant asks.
Her name is Sheri, and she’s incredibly sleek and elegant in her all black outfit.
Her glowing brown skin is highlighted by her gold jewelry and gorgeous smile.
We’re sitting on a sofa in the middle of the store so she can gather info before we start picking out dresses to try on.
“Oh, pretty simple,” I reply. “We’re planning on simple, muted colors. And we’re trying to find a venue with an ocean view.”
Sheri nods and makes a note on her clipboard. “And tell me about your ideal dress.”
I explain some of my insecurities about my body, which she dismisses but says she’ll find me something that will make me feel fabulous. We discuss fabrics and silhouettes, and then it’s time to wander around the shop.
Sheri points out a few dresses, and I either nod or shake my head, and then she moves over to another rack. She knows where every dress lives in this store, and I’m in awe of her memory.
“Now we have this one,” she says, showing me a simple satin sheath dress. “The back is low, and the front has this lovely drape. But there’s a little bit of sparkle on the straps, so maybe that’ll give the razzle-dazzle your mom is looking for?” She looks at me and Mom, waiting for an answer.
Even on the hanger, I can tell that’s exactly what I want. I nod enthusiastically.
Mom hesitates. “We can try it on, I suppose.”
Sheri winks at me and adds it to her giant pile. She either works out regularly, or this job gives her the muscles she needs to hold up all these dresses.
When Sheri has six dresses picked out, she takes me into the dressing room, and Mom waits on a sofa in the lounge.
“Let’s try one of your mom’s picks first,” she says, pulling out the poofy princess dress with gemstones all over the bodice and a tulle overlay on the skirt.
I step into the dress, and Sheri uses magic clips to fit the dress perfectly to my body. I study my reflection in the mirror, tilting my head.
This is it, the first time I’m seeing myself in a wedding dress. It’s strange. I thought it would be just another dress, but something about all-white, a color we reserve only for weddings, is making it all real.
I’m getting married.
MARRIED.
To Zach.
My heart rate picks up. Is it excitement or nerves? Must be excitement, right?
“What do you think?” Sheri asks, her voice soft.
“I’m…um…not sure.” I look down, patting the skirt. “It’s a lot.”
Sheri nods, and I swear she can see right through my thoughts. “Let’s go show your mom.” She opens the door and lets me through, leading the way to my mom. I have to hold down the skirt to make it through the doorway because it’s so puffy.
The second my mom sees me, she gasps and covers her mouth. Her eyes instantly fill with tears. “Claire!” She jumps out of her seat and squeezes me in a hug. “Oh, Claire. You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe this day is finally coming!”
She pulls back and holds my shoulders, looking up and down at the dress. “Gorgeous. This is perfect.”
Something in my stomach twists. My mom is so happy, and usually that makes me happy, too. But I don’t have the same reaction to the dress, and my mom’s happiness is turning my stomach into knots.
“This is just the start,” Sheri reminds Mom with a smile. She guides me by the elbow up to the circular stage in the center of the lounge to stand in front of a mirror.
And now, with the full effect right in front of me, I study the dress.
It’s beautiful, but for someone else. I understand why my mom loves it—this was her style of wedding dress back in the nineties.
Puffed shoulders, teased hair, shiny satin and lace.
It was all about the rocker princess look for her.
“Can you get a veil?” my mom asks Sheri.
Sheri watches me. “Do you want a veil?” she asks me.
“Um…let’s try a couple more dresses on first,” I say. Sheri smiles and nods, and I think she can read my mind better than my mom.
She knows I don’t love this dress and that I’m ready to take it off.
“We can put this one back on at the end if Claire wants,” she tells Mom, who nods. Sheri turns to me. “On to the next!”
We go back to the dressing room and try on a couple more dresses—each one beautiful, but not right. Mom insists the first one was better, but my eyes keep wandering to the hanging rack, the sleek sheath dress practically calling my name.
“Let’s get that one on,” Sheri says with a wink. She helps me out of the most recent fluffy dress, and I step into the new one, hoping it will fit.
At first it hangs around me, but Sheri uses her magic clips again and hugs it to my body.
“Oh,” I breathe. “It’s…perfect.” The soft satin shows off my curves but magically holds me together in all the right places. The draping in the front with the low back makes it extra classy, and the gems on the straps are perfect to make it look like a wedding dress.
I get teary-eyed just looking at myself. This is the reaction I wanted to have. This is the dress I was looking for.
“Ready?” Sheri asks.
I nod so hard, I must look like a bobblehead. We head out to the lounge, and my grin is so big, my cheeks hurt. I step onto the stage and look at myself in the mirror.
This is it. This is my dress.
I’m admiring my reflection in the mirror, and Sheri asks Mom, “What do you think?”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I can tell Claire really loves it.”
“I do,” I say. I look at her expression in the mirror reflection. Her lips are twisted to the side, her eyes uncertain. “Don’t you love it?”
Mom still hesitates and looks back and forth between me and Sheri. Then she sighs heavily. “I think you look beautiful, Claire. You’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear. But it’s not my preference.”
My heart sinks.
“You can get whatever you want,” Mom continues. “If this is the dress that makes you happy, you can have this one. But I prefer the other one.”
Sheri smiles brightly at that. “We don’t get moms like you every day,” she says.
Mom shrugs. “I want her to be happy about the dress. She’s already making my dreams come true by marrying Zach.”
I recognize that Mom isn’t pushing her opinions. But she made it clear that she prefers the other one. And that’s what this whole thing is about, right? Making my mom happy?
Wait.
It’s not supposed to be about making my mom happy. It’s supposed to be about the happiest day of my life. The day I promise myself to be married to Zach forever.
Zach. Have I even thought about him once today? Have I wondered what he’d think, seeing me walk down the aisle? I look at myself in the mirror, trying to see myself through his eyes. What would he do? Would he smile? Laugh a little? Get emotional, or teary-eyed?
No. Definitely not emotional. He’d honestly probably just give me a smirk and a wink, then crack a joke to Tyson.
And for once, I realize I want…more.
I think about Ryan. The guy who told me I look great in dark green. The one who compliments my dresses and says they bring out my eyes.
What would he think?
How would he react?
“Claire?” Sheri’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Do you want to try a veil?”
I shake my head. “I’m a little too confused to add that to the mix.”
“Oh, hun.” My mom gets off the couch and stands next to me on the stage. She wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me in a side-hug. “You will look gorgeous no matter what.”
“Thank you, Mama,” I say. “But I think it’s just too many options for today. I need some time to think. We can come back with Julie and make the final decision.”
She nods and squeezes me one more time.
I turn to Sheri. “I’d like to get back in my regular clothes now.”
Sheri nods but looks disappointed. She was probably counting on the commission from this sale. She follows me back into the dressing room, where I immediately start apologizing.
“I’m so sorry” I say. “We just spent hours here and you aren’t going to get compensated. I feel awful.”
Sheri furrows her brow. “That’s not a problem.”
“But you look so disappointed.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Claire, honey. This isn’t about me and my commission. It’s about you. You found your perfect dress, but you’re so worried about what your mom thinks that you won’t let yourself love it.” She pats my cheek gently. “It’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”
I nod and steal another glance at myself in the mirror. It really is perfect.
“Can you take a picture of me?” I ask, digging in my purse for my phone. “So I can remember what it looks like?”
“Absolutely.” She grins widely and takes my phone from me. I pose from the front and the back. She shakes her head as she hands back the phone. “You know how I know this is the one?”
I shake my head.
“You look like you’re floating on the clouds. Your smile is what makes you a bride.”
I snort a laugh, and Sheri grins.
“It’s cheesy, I know,” she continues. “But it’s all about the smile. This will be the happiest day of your life. You shouldn’t have any reservations, not about the dress…or the groom.”
She says it cautiously, like she’s testing out waters.
I swallow hard. Is there something about bridal consultants that means they know everything about engaged women?
When I don’t respond, she just smiles again. “But what do I know?” She moves to my back and starts unclipping the magic pins, and I watch the dress deflate around me. She helps me out of it and leaves me to get dressed in my regular clothes.
As I pull on my jeans and sweater, I think about what she said. I wish I could get another person’s input on the whole thing—both the dress and the wedding. And the only person I talk to about how I’m really feeling is…
Ryan.
Is it weird to send him a picture of me in a wedding dress? No, right? We’re friends. Best friends. He knows me better than almost anyone else, and he’s never held his opinions back before.
I don’t give it much of a second thought. I just tap on my phone quickly and attach the pictures.
Me
What do you think?
And the second I press send, I realize he’s probably on his date right now.
Did I subconsciously know that?
Oh, man. I’m in trouble.