Chapter 32
ROSALIE
Daisy had spent the past few days pestering me relentlessly about dresses and all the intricacies of planning that needed to be addressed.
Every conversation with her seemed to circle back to the perfect shade of fabric or the most flattering cut for my figure—topics she seemed endlessly excited about.
I wasn’t thrilled about the wedding, but I was excited about the dress. After all, I needed an event to wear it to.
The bell above the door chimed softly as I stepped into Daisy’s shop, the sound familiar from my childhood. Grandma Esme would babysit us when we were younger, and Daisy and I would always play dress-up, completely unaware of how expensive the fabric was.
Offering a weak smile to Mary, the woman sitting behind the marble front desk, I made my way to the back. Every corner was filled with neat fabrics, delicate lace, and complicated beadwork, just like it had been all those years ago.
Grandma sat in her usual corner by the large bay window, her arthritic hands busy sorting through a small box of vintage buttons. Despite the pain, her eyes still glared with the same passion for weddings that had put her on the map. She glanced up and smiled warmly at me.
“Hi, baby girl! Did Daisy drag you out here?” she asked.
A few of our cousins were scattered around the shop, helping Grandma with various tasks. Katie was meticulously organizing fabric swatches by color, her attention to detail almost as sharp as Daisy’s.
“Yes,” I said with a groan. Everyone knew how dreadful it was to have Daisy plan their wedding. She loved weddings and would never shut up.
“Sorry you got roped into that.”
“Rosalie!” Daisy called out, spotting me from across the room. “Can you come hold this fabric for a second?”
I made my way over to her, weaving through the organized chaos Daisy liked to call “the back room.” She was in the middle of measuring a length of ivory silk, her hands steady and sure. I held the fabric in place, watching as she threaded a needle and began to make a few stitches.
“Thanks,” she said, not daring to look up from her work. “I’ve got a bride coming in this afternoon, and I need to finish this hem.”
“No problem,” I replied.
“While you wait for me to finish, have Grandma take you to the front. I want you to pick out seven dresses—and before you groan and complain, yes, you will be trying them all on.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s necessary. We have to find your style and what you’re most comfortable in.”
I shook my head. “No. You already know which one I want. You designed it for Ava Martin a few years ago.”
“I can’t believe you just suggested wearing someone else’s dress. I’ll obviously be making something one-of-a-kind for you. We need to decide on the fabric, the style, the embellishments . . . everything.”
She stood up and pulled a few fabric swatches from a nearby shelf, laying them all out in front of me. There was silk in various shades of white, and delicate lace with intricate patterns.
“I was thinking of something timeless and elegant for you,” Daisy said, holding up a piece of silk that shimmered in the light. “Maybe a fitted bodice with a flowing skirt.”
Just then, Grandma shuffled over. She and Daisy started to go back and forth on what they thought I’d look good in. They spoke as if I weren’t standing in front of them.
“Are you two planning this without me?”
Grandma patted my arm, chuckling. “Of course, darling. You just stand there and look pretty.”
Soon after, Grandma took me to the front of the store.
She had a lot of people working for her in the store. It had been voted as New York City’s best shop this year. That may or may not be because Esme and Daisy had made it into a magazine featuring their dresses on countless icons.
A woman offered me a glass of white wine, and I took it, knowing damn well I’d need it if Daisy was going to make me try on seven dresses. How ridiculous was she?
As I took a sip, I suddenly realized I was breaking one of Max’s rules. My eyes widened slightly before I remembered he wasn’t here to see it. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Max was the last person I wanted to think about right now. He was making me feel things I didn’t know how to comprehend.
As I struggled with my thoughts, I made my way around the shop, picking out seven dresses to take back with me. Daisy told me to try the first one on, so I stepped into the fitting room, the plush carpet soft under my feet, and slipped into the dress, feeling the cool silk against my skin.
This looked a lot like the one I’d seen in my momma’s catalog a few months back. Weddings weren’t on my mind back then—not when I was with Lucas (rest his soul)—but I’d loved the style when I saw it.
I stepped out of the room, and Daisy immediately helped me to zip the dress up, her nimble fingers working quickly.
We’d done the same thing seven times. Each dress was nice, but it wasn’t the one I wanted. Eventually, she gave up and let me try on the dress I’d originally come in here for.
When I did, it fit perfectly.
I stepped out of the fitting room, smoothing the fabric over my hips as I took in the sight in the mirror.
The dress was exactly how I’d imagined it—simple but elegant, with just enough detail to make it feel special without drowning me in lace and beads.
Daisy’s eyes widened, and for a moment she was quiet, just taking in the sight. She wasn’t often quiet.
“This is it,” she finally said, nodding approvingly. “I hate to admit it, but you were right. This is the one.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I looked at my reflection.
The dress was perfect—I knew it the moment I’d slipped it on.
It felt like me; like I could walk down the aisle without feeling like I was pretending to be someone else.
“Told you so,” I murmured, my fingers brushing the fabric.
“All right, don’t get too smug,” Daisy teased as she started to take measurements. “I’m still making you try on a few more.”
I smiled. “Fine. I’ll try on more after this one. How much is it, by the way?”
“Is Max paying?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll attach an extra fifty perfect.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “Let’s just get this dress ready before you end up charging him for the whole shop.”
“I don’t think he’d mind. You could have him buy this whole shop—a dozen of these dresses—if you wanted, and the best part is, he wouldn’t even see it as a favor. He’d do it with a smile, just because it’s you.”
“He’s not the charming man you think he is.”
“I never said he was charming. He’s a mobster. Most aren’t charming, but most are rich.”
“He’s not just rich. He’s . . . complicated.” I frowned, not sure how to explain Max in a way that didn’t make me sound foolish. “And protective. He leaves someone at the house with me every day.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re dating a mobster,” she chuckled, holding a straight pin between her teeth as she worked.
“If he wasn’t protective, I’d be a little more concerned.
Those guys aren’t exactly known for their flexible, laid-back attitudes.
They’re a package deal: money, suits, and a guy lurking around every corner. ”
I rolled my eyes. “How lovely. Next thing you know, he’ll be installing a GPS tracker on me.”
She laughed. “I’m shocked you don’t have one already.”