Chapter 11
Morgan
“Do. Not. Laugh.”
Morgan slid the rose-colored curtain aside and stepped out of the changing room. There was a moment of silence during which Jen pressed her lips together as she crossed her legs and studied what was before her.
“I’m not laughing.”
“But you want to.” Morgan looked down at the icy blue fabric puddling around her feet. “I would laugh at me.”
“Stop,” Jen said. “There’s nothing to laugh at except your visible discomfort over a beautiful dress.”
Morgan frowned at her friend. “It’s bad.”
“No, it isn’t.” Jen tilted her head a little while Morgan turned sideways to see herself from all angles in the mirrors. “It isn’t a flattering color on you, and the sizing is obviously off a little, but that’ll all work out when the real one comes in. What color did you say your sister picked?”
“Sage something.”
The bridal shop seamstress, who had remained quietly observant in the corner until then, said, “I believe the order said Dusty Sage.”
Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know why they call any of these colors dusty. Like, what’s appealing about a dusty old rose?”
“More important question,” Jen said. “How do you feel about the shape of it? Is it comfortable? I’m sure you’re happy it isn’t a low-neckline design.”
“Small miracle, yes.” Morgan gently pulled the sides away from her legs and let them drop again.
The A-line silhouette and halter top were super comfortable.
She’d been worried it might be a low neckline or strapless, neither of which she wanted to wear in a room full of strangers when she was already uncomfortable.
“It’s fine. Not a fan of the fabric, but that’s just how they are. ”
“It looks great on you. Your arms look amazing,” Jen said. “And it’ll look even better once the right color comes in and gets altered.”
Morgan sighed. “I guess. I just thought I was done wearing dresses like this, you know?”
The advantage of being estranged from her family was not having to attend any more political fundraisers or galas or whatever other nonsense she was obligated to appear at.
And no more events meant no more fancy dresses.
Because, as her mother told her repeatedly, there were no options for her besides dresses, unless she wanted to embarrass her and ruin her whole career.
That was before learning that Morgan’s mere existence could cause those things.
“I get it,” Jen said. “But this time it’s for a good cause.”
“Are you ready for me to take your measurements?”
When Morgan nodded, the seamstress walked over to her. She pulled out her measuring tape while Morgan raised her arms.
“I guess Felicia was excited you agreed to be a bridesmaid.”
Jen shifted in the dusty rose floral sitting chair as she tucked a curly blonde strand behind her ear.
She looked a little pale. Even for her. She’d had to miss their Sunday hangout while she was recovering from the flu.
Jen didn’t make it to work on Monday either, so Morgan hadn’t filled her in on…
everything. She had insisted she was well enough that morning to go with Morgan, but she didn’t look better.
“She was,” Morgan said. “Are you okay?”
Jen nodded. “Just tired. I’m fine. Really. Now tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me.”
Morgan’s chest tightened. She knew she’d have to tell Jen about what she’d done, eventually. But not now. And not with an audience.
The seamstress wrapped the tape around Morgan’s chest as she tried not to hold in her breath. Her awkwardness would land her in a terribly fit dress if she wasn’t careful.
Telling Jen what she hadn’t yet said was even more awkward and only made her want to hold her breath even more.
“She was just as excited that I told her I was bringing a plus one.”
Jen’s eyes turned sad. “Morgan, I’m sorry. Didn’t I tell you when you asked that I have an appointment that night?”
“You did,” she said. “And I remembered.”
“I don’t get it. Wait…” Jen’s eyes widened. “You have a date! Who’ve you been hiding from me? Sheesh, I’m sick for a few days, and you go and whip up a whole new relationship. Who is she?”
“It’s not a relationship,” Morgan said, hearing the slight waver in her voice. “Remember the woman I met at Kim’s thing?”
“That woman? Oh, I remember. You were totally into her.” She raised her brow. “Didn’t she come in for something this weekend while I was sick? That must have been one hell of a session.”
“It’s not like that,” Morgan said. “She’s coming as a friend. Since we had a good time at the last thing and since I don’t want to sit alone surrounded by all those relatives I’ve been avoiding, I thought, why not ask.”
“And she said yes?” Jen grinned. “She must like you as much as you like her to agree to that spectacle.”
“I presented it mainly as my sister’s excellent taste in catering.”
“My friend. She is not going just for the food.”
The seamstress released the tape from around Morgan’s hips and stepped back. “You can change whenever you’re ready. Just leave the dress on the hanger.”
“So we’re done?”
Morgan had her fill of being surrounded by dresses and chiffon and being touched.
She was looking forward now to putting on her baggy jeans and going to work.
It was early enough that they might even have time to swing by to pick up oyster poboys.
It was late in the season, so it would probably be their last chance to get them.
The woman folded the tape and said, “All done. We’ll call you when it’s been altered and ready for you to pick up.”
As soon as she was out of the room, Jen scooted to the edge of the seat and hiss-whispered, “You can’t avoid talking about your feelings for this woman forever.”
“I don’t have feelings.”
Jen snorted. “You wish.”
“Anyway, it’s just a wedding. You know I have no interest in a relationship.”
The last thing Morgan wanted was to be trapped in something where she’d eventually be asked to be something she wasn’t. She’d lived that life already and had no intention of going through that again.
“Whatever you say,” Jen said. “So we’re assuming this is just a friendly wedding invite. Cool. Won’t you have a bunch of bridesmaid duties or whatever? She’s going to be doing a lot of sitting around by herself.”
That didn’t sound fair.
Now, Morgan had major regrets on top of the tiny ones she was already trying to ignore.
“I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll make it up to her somehow.” When Jen raised her brow again, Morgan groaned. “Not like that.”
“Then how? Because I don’t know if free food is going to cover the cost of fielding your family alone while you take photos and do whatever else is in your sister’s plans. While your sparkling company is a big selling point, I’m concerned for her when you aren’t around to provide it.”
Morgan wanted to argue the whole sparkling bit, but that wasn’t the point.
The point was that Jen was right.
She was asking a lot of this woman she barely knew.
“I should just call this off. You’re right. It isn’t fair.”
“I didn’t say that,” Jen said. “I want you to bring her. I like her for you. Even as a friend.”
“You’ve never even met her.”
“But I’ve seen you talk about her. That’s enough evidence for me.”
Morgan thought better of arguing that point. She had a better point.
“What if I buy her something to wear to the wedding? So she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t have something. Or just to have something new. I don’t know. It’s a start?”
Jen sat back in the chair and smiled, holding back a laugh. “That’s very much movie montage material.”
“Stop. It’s just a dress. Or pants? Whatever she wants.”
Jen couldn’t hold back the laugh now. “So now there’s a wedding date and a shopping date. This is becoming a lot of dates for someone who isn’t a date.”
“I’m going to change out of this dress and out of this conversation now.”
Morgan spun around, the icy blue chiffon flowing in a circle around her legs. She entered the changing area and slid the curtain shut as Jen shouted from across the room.
“Chicken!”