Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
IVY
I drive up to Ember’s apartment and find her outside, embracing her disgruntled cat, Nicolas Cage. He squirms in her arms while she presses her cheek against his fur. I continue watching as she engages in a lengthy monologue before letting him escape, and she finally makes her way to my car.
“Dress shopping day!” I clap when she shuts the passenger door.
She turns to offer me a nervous smile. “I’m excited but also dreading it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be your personal bodyguard. If any oddball tries to make small talk with you, I’ll just out-weird them and scare them off.”
“Colton’s mom will be there, so you might not want to get too weird.”
“I think we’ve said the word ‘weird’ too much,” I nod slowly with my mouth forming a flat line.
“Yeah,” Ember agrees. “Now it really is weird .”
What’s weird is how I’m suddenly very nervous at the thought of being around Colton’s mom. Because she’s also Ethan’s mom. And I really want her to like me.
“Right,” I muse while reversing. “Body-block the small-talkers without being weird. I could do the thing where I make crazy faces that only they can see?”
“I love that you’re willing to go to such extreme levels for me, Vee, but I should probably put on my big girl panties and learn to socialize.”
“Mm-kay. But if your panties start to sag, just say ‘pineapple,’ and I’ll do my thing.”
“You’re too kind. But how about we just talk about something else? I need a distraction from the wedding planning for a minute. How’s the house coming along? Ethan behaving?”
Oh, he’s more than behaving. He’s also been ridiculously kind and considerate while also making it incredibly difficult to ignore his chiseled chest and arms.
“Yup. All good.”
“Ivy—”
“Hmm?”
“Never in our friendship have you answered a question without expounding with a thesis worth of words. Now, tell me the rest of the juicy information you’re needlessly withholding.”
I cannot tell her the truth. As much as I’m aching to discuss every aspect of my soap opera life, the bride-to-be deserves a drama-free, low-maintenance friendship, especially from her support team. I refuse to cause any stress for my friend when I know she’d only want to play the mother hen and insist on worrying over my current situation.
“Ethan and I have settled on a truce. He’s been amiable and helpful. Sorry to disappoint you, but there’s nothing juicy to report.” My best bet is to divert her attention, but she’ll get suspicious if I circle back to wedding talk too soon. Maybe there is some drama I can share that won’t cause her any anxiety. “Oh! But get this—my Gran had this secret closet in her bedroom. It’s like a monument to the seventies, Em, you have to see it! It has a secret door and everything.”
I recount my discovery of Gran’s hidden closet, minus the steamy bit where Ethan nearly kissed me. “I also…kinda fell yesterday,” I grimace, lifting the hem of my shirt to show Ivy the bandage on my side. “Ethan had to take me to the ER for stitches. But I’m fine.”
“Vee!” Her eyes widen as her hands cover her mouth. “Why do you keep climbing things in those shoes? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“It’s not bad, really. But I’m afraid I won’t be trying on any bridesmaid’s dresses, unfortunately.”
“Eh, it’s okay,” she waves off my concern. “We’ll get one eventually.”
“Will your mom be joining us today?” I flinch inwardly as I pose the question. Ember’s mom could make Emily Gilmore seem like a saint. She’s been making an effort to tone herself down in recent months, especially after Ember opened up about her feelings and established some necessary boundaries, but the woman is still terrifying.
“Lord help me, yes. But Jeanie promised to step in if Mom crosses the line.”
I let out a wistful sigh. “Jeanie’s truly the best mother-in-law anyone could hope for.”
“I hit the jackpot, for sure,” Ember confirms, grinning fondly.
You could hit the same jackpot, too, if only…
No way. I refuse to risk ending up homeless again, all because of some foolish fantasy about inheriting an amazing mother-in-law and becoming a sister-in-law to my closest friend .
We park and walk into a bridal store that’s straight out of a Hallmark movie, peering around with widened eyes.
“Your mom pick this place?” I mutter out the side of my mouth.
“Yup,” Ember says, emphasizing the final ‘p’ with a pop of her lips.
“Good thing she’s been working on lowering her expectations, huh?”
Ember snorts a chuckle, then groans as her head falls to my shoulder. “I’m seriously considering eloping.”
I loop my arm through hers, pulling her inside while I whisper. “Just say the word, Em. I’ll organize everything.”
“That’s actually very tempting,” she mumbles under her breath before greeting her mother, Fretta, with a stiff hug. In contrast, Ethan’s mom, Jeanie, breezes over like the ray of sunshine she is, crushing Ember and I in a loving embrace. “Ooh, I’m so excited!” she intones. “Thank you for including me in this, Ember.”
I look around again while Ember and Jeanie continue talking. The store is lavishly decorated in champagne pinks and soft lighting. Every corner seems embellished with fixtures and decor that scream wealth. It’s so not Ember. But I’m sure she’ll go along with it, anyway, since she’s been picking her battles when it comes to her mother’s input.
A stylist glides a rolling clothing rack into view, leading it towards the dressing room to our right. Positioned in the grandest of the three dressing spaces, it features the customary pedestal where brides-to-be showcase themselves for their loved ones.
“Ember Hayes? I’m Martha Jean. You must be our beautiful bride,” she greets Ember with a smile that exudes professionalism. But her eyes betray her when they flicker to Fretta, seeking her approval.
“If you’ll come with me, we’ve preselected some gowns for you to start.”
Ember cringes before she quickly recovers, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as she nods her assent, then beckons me to join her with a subtle tilt of her head. I follow, meeting her at the rack of gowns.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much are you hating this?” I whisper.
“I’m already maxed out. It’s fine, though. I’ll try on a few of these, and worst case scenario, I’ll have two dresses.” She lifts two hangers from the rail, handing them to Martha Jean.
“I could always arrange for Nicholas to suddenly develop a strong aversion to the dress your mom selects while it’s ‘airing out,’ ” I suggest in a hushed tone, emphasizing the air quotes.
“Don’t tempt me.” Ember’s eyes widen in a playful warning before she vanishes into the dressing room. I stifle my laughter as I turn back to the mothers, who are already seated on the central sofa, each of them holding a flute of champagne, their anticipation palpable.
I delicately lift a glass from a gleaming silver tray, relishing the effervescent bubbles as they dance on my palate. Just as I begin to enjoy the sensation, a gentle ping interrupts, prompting me to reach for my phone to check the incoming text message.
Ethan
Good morning, big spoon
My head jerks up instinctively to ensure no one can decipher the text’s contents or its sudden impact on my cheeks, which now feel like they’re ablaze.
Ethan
Marco and I are knocking out that wall after I get back from the gym
Make sure to pick up your antibiotics. And don’t injure yourself while dress shopping, or I’m playing big spoon tonight
For a fleeting moment, I find myself lost in a daydream, imagining the cozy embrace of Ethan’s arms. However, my reverie is interrupted as Jeanie pulls me closer to her on the sofa, bringing an abrupt end to my fantasy.
“So, Ember tells me you’re dating someone!” She smiles giddily, and I panic, thinking she knows something about me and Ethan. But my heart rate settles once she continues. “—a coworker. So romantic!” she squeals.
“Oh! Ha-ha, yes, ma’am,” I respond with a nod, bringing the glass to my lips for a long sip. My gaze flits around the room as I contemplate my next move. There’s a pang of guilt as I consider deceiving Ethan’s mother. Even though it’s not like I’m going to allow anything to happen between Ethan and me, I’m still desperate for her approval. And for some inexplicable reason, sharing a slightly altered version of the truth feels essential.
I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “Please don’t tell Ember, but I’m only going on a few platonic dates with Toby to help him out. We’re actually just friends.”
Jeanie leans back, her eyebrows raising. “Oh, now that sounds like an interesting story. You know, I had my own fake-dating situation when I was a young thing.” She winks with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But what about your house? Ethan’s been telling me about all the renovations he’s helping you with! He says it’s just darling. In fact, he couldn’t stop talking about it yesterday. ”
My throat grows dry, and I end up choking on my spit in the world’s most awkward attempt to play it cool.
Ethan is talking to his mom about me?
“Oh, sweetie, are you okay?” She pats me on the back in soothing sweeps.
“Yup,” I croak. “And, yes, Ethan has been a huge help.” I smile, wiping at my chin after sipping from the tiny bottle of water Jeanie thrusts in my hand, my very own real-life fairy Godmother.
I stand and excuse myself to hunt for a trash can to dispose of the empty bottle. Yet, unsurprisingly in a place like this, something as visually off-putting as a trash can is nowhere to be found. A store assistant materializes out of thin air, her smile bright as she whispers, “I’ll take that for you, honey.” Still perplexed, I glance back at the woman, wondering how she appeared so suddenly.
I’m turning back to continue my conversation with Jeanie when I’m caught off guard by my momentum and one foot wedges behind the other. I stumble, but Jeanie is at my side, gripping onto my arm and stopping me from hitting the floor. It dawns on me that she must have been beside me all along. Either that, or she anticipated my clumsiness and miraculously managed to save me from a side full of popped stitches and an unfortunate carpet burn on my forehead.
She chuckles softly, her shoulders trembling with amusement as she patiently waits for me to steady myself. “Ethan warned me about your tendency to find yourself in these situations.”
“He did?” I gulp, trying to sound nonchalant when I’m entirely too eager for her answer.
She leads me over to the sofa, and I’m grateful once again for her steadying hand, sparing me from a potentially serious accident. The slight twinge on my side serves as a reminder that a fall in my condition might have turned this posh boutique into a horror-movie set.
“Oh, yes. It’s been ‘Ivy this’ and ‘Ivy that’ ever since y’all started on that house. I’ve never heard him talk about a woman so much. That’s why I was puzzled when Ember mentioned you having a boyfriend. But it all makes sense now.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, sparking my curiosity and tempting me to dig for more information, or perhaps even to confide in her. Either way, this subtle hint that she’d approve of her son dating me feels like a crack in the tight seal of my stifled-emotion jar. There’s a newfound longing for someone to recognize how hard I’m working to hold all the pieces of my life together, for someone I can trust to keep my secrets and not to abandon me later.
I look up at Jeanie with a hopeful expression, but I can’t bring myself to speak.
“Well, for the record, this mama would only be too happy if something were to happen between you two,” she adds with so much genuine warmth that I’m basically a puddle in my seat.
But those old wounds are too hard to ignore, and I find my usual self-deprecating bit spilling out before I can stop myself. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m a mess. And Ethan needs someone fun, someone who can roll with his sense of adventure. We wouldn’t be a good fit.”
Even as I say the words, they feel like a crushing betrayal of my true feelings. But they’re responsible words, ones that will protect Ethan from getting caught up in my disastrous life. He’s already infiltrated it too much, and I’m worried that letting him see some of the uglier parts will only trigger his genuinely good nature and throw him into fix-it mode. But my life is much more complicated than a home reno.
Martha Jean interrupts us before Jeanie can reply to inform us that Ember will be out in a few minutes. She seems to lock in on me as a potential customer once she finds out I’m an unmarried spinster, but I nearly snort in her face. I’m lightyears away from needing a wedding dress or ever being able to afford one from this store, let alone the tissue paper they use to stuff the boob areas.
She continues explaining all the benefits of investing in one of their gowns, and all I can do is nod politely. But then we reach that awkward moment when I suddenly can’t decide where to direct my gaze while she speaks. It feels weird to fixate on just one eye. The forehead? No, that seems odd, too. Maybe shifting my focus to the side will reset things. I offer a bored nod accompanied by an aloof “mh-mm,” then take a sip of my drink while stealing glances at the dressing rooms.
I return my gaze to Martha Jean, hoping she’s gotten the hint. But the unease persists as she goes on. Should I alternate between each eye? Just pick an eye!
Finally, Ember’s dressing room curtain opens, saving me from internally combusting because I can’t remember how to look at someone. Fretta, who’s been paging through a bridal catalog the entire time, finally sets it down, plastering on a proper smile. Ember gracefully steps onto the pedestal, adorned in an ivory satin empire-waisted gown. Each of us expresses our admiration of its beauty, but I can tell from the expression on my friend’s face that this isn’t the one. It’s lovely, undoubtedly, but what Ember truly deserves is a dress that exudes understated brilliance, one that doesn’t vie for attention with flamboyance or resemble a flashy prom dress.
We all play along, anyway, clapping excitedly and repeating the process twice more. It takes one more equally underwhelming dress from Fretta’s preselected rack before I decide to intervene. “Mrs. H., Jeanie, why don’t you two grab another drink. Ember and I are going to browse the gowns for a minute. ”
“Oh, of course.” Jeanie adds a wink that tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing. “The bride should have the chance to pick out her own dresses, too.”
I love her even more for having Ember’s back. In truth, the bride is the only one who should be choosing the gowns she’d like to try on. But try telling that to Fretta Hayes. I return a grateful smile, leading Ember forward to sift through a rack of dresses.
Then my butt vibrates, and I pull out my phone to read another text message.
Ethan
Woman, will you please stop wearing heels?
Seriously, are you okay? Your stitches all intact?
A delightful warmth builds in my chest as I read Ethan’s message, spreading like honey through my veins. It seems Jeanie has been busy giving updates. With every one of Ethan’s gruff displays of concern, the struggle to ignore my feelings for him grows all the more difficult. I’m finally beginning to understand the reasons behind his bossy demeanor, to see the tender, caring soul lurking beneath the grouchy exterior. He’s not grumpy. He’s genuinely concerned about my safety and well-being, sort of the same way my other friends care about me. He just wants to help me, like Toby does. Except Ethan might want to kiss me, too.
I blow out a breath and slip my phone back into my pocket. “Okay, sanity check, how’re we doing?” I ask Ember, yanking my thoughts back to the present.
“I mean, I expected some of this from her, so I’m doing okay. But I just want to get married. I don’t care about all this stuff,” she gestures around us.
“Let’s pretend we’re in a thrift store, and your perfect dress is hidden amongst these racks. It’s preowned, pre-loved, and waiting for its second debut.”
Ember’s lips lift, revealing a slow smile. “Thanks for being here, Vee.”
“Of course. Now enough of the morbs, we’ve got a dress to find.”
We navigate through the racks until we finally arrive at a section boasting dresses that seem more aligned with Ember’s taste. “I think I’ve spotted a couple of viable options,” she remarks. Martha Jean, seemingly attuned to our conversation, promptly materializes at our side to swiftly whisk away the two dresses Ember indicates.
As she emerges from the dressing room, I pull the stylist aside. “Martha, the jazz music is truly delightful, but this isn’t my girl’s vibe. Considering we’re the only ones here, do you think we could switch it up to something a little different? Something a little more upbeat for our bride?” I gently suggest, and a spark of enthusiasm flickers in her eyes at the prospect.
Taking my place between the mothers, I applaud eagerly as the lively beats of Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” fill the air, courtesy of the store’s speakers.
“Oh, Ivy,” Fretta remarks, rolling her eyes. But there’s a hint of amusement in her exasperated sigh. It seems the ice queen is beginning to thaw, after all. While I’ve never been her favorite person and thus managed to keep my distance, Ember’s mom has admittedly shown a newfound effort to be more cordial, maybe even friendly, over the past few months.
Ember reemerges from the dressing room just then, a whole new expression lighting up her face. Fretta and Jeanie share in the palpable shift, and together we release a soft, synchronized “ooh.”
She bops along to Shania as she steps onto the pedestal. This time, genuine joy dances in her eyes .
“This one is definitely more you,” Jeanie gushes, taking in the details of the gown with its delicate cap sleeves.
Fretta concedes with a slight nod, but there’s a softness in her eyes as she smiles at her daughter. “You look beautiful, dear.”
Ember grins and slips away into the dressing room, hinting that the next one will be even more amazing. We’re eagerly awaiting her return when Jeanie surprises me by leaning in once again, her voice a comforting whisper. “I didn’t get to say this earlier, but I want you to know that Ethan would be lucky to have someone like you, hun. Don’t doubt yourself just because your life’s been rough.” Her expression comforts me in that familiar parental way, nudging me gently towards self-assurance. I gulp down the lump in my throat, fighting back the tears itching to break free.
Fretta angles herself to face me on the other side, offering a surprisingly tender pat on my knee. “She’s right, Ivy. Any man would be fortunate to have you.”
“You…you heard all of that?” I sputter.
She laughs daintily. “Sweetheart, my age may be showing, but my ears work just fine.”
“Please don’t tell Ember,” I implore, sniffing as I search my pockets for a tissue. Ever the fairy godmother, Jeanie holds out a tissue of her own. I take it and dab at my nose in the most ladylike fashion I can manage. “It’s a long story that Ember doesn’t need to stress over.”
Fretta mimes zipping her lips, and Jeanie envelops me in a side hug.
“What did I miss?”
We look up to find Ember back on the pedestal, her brow furrowed with concern. Fretta, Jeanie, and I collectively gasp, struck by the breathtaking vision in front of us.
“Oh, Em!” The slow leak of tears before have started flowing freely as I take in my friend and her glowing smile. The A-line gown cascades gracefully over her hips, elegantly accentuating her curves. Delicate lace covers the bodice, creating a subtle sparkle under the soft glow of light, and the skirt’s airy layers of flowing tulle sweep the floor in a way that make it look like she’s floating.
Jeanie offers more tissues to Fretta and me without turning away from Ember, and we both take them gratefully.
“I think this is the one,” Ember gushes breathlessly, her face splitting into a wide grin. She steps off the pedestal and performs a graceful twirl. “Oh! And the best part—” She sticks her hands into the sides of the gown and wiggles them. “It has pockets!”
I squeal in delight, and we all surround her for a group hug. It’s about as awkward as you’d imagine until we end it with a few pats to the back.
Ember reluctantly returns to change back into her clothes while Fretta settles paying for her daughter’s gown, and I’m so grateful this ended well. Three months ago, Ember would have never willingly invited her mother anywhere out of her fear of being constantly berated. But Colton helping her find her voice has truly been the best thing for her whole family.
Another message vibrates on my phone.
Ethan
I’m taking your walls down today, Ivy June
My breath catches in my throat as a wave of anticipation and a hint of apprehension wash over me. The weight of his words, both literal and metaphorical, settles in my stomach. I honestly don’t think I have what it takes to keep those walls up for much longer, anyway.