What if this gown looks terrible on me? It’s too late to change my mind. And the dress cost an absolute fortune, though Mother already reassured me money is no object, and if I hate this dress, we can find another.
Our money can work miracles.
Within minutes Mother and I each have a glass of champagne in our hand, though I’m draining mine at a rapid rate.
“Charlotte, please. Slow down,” Mother chastises.
I finish it off and make an “ahh” sound just to irritate her, which it does. “Hopefully they’ll bring me another.”
“Darling, you can’t be drunk while trying on your dress.”
“Just a nice little buzz, then.” I ignore her sour look and settle onto one of the deep-green velvet couches, surprised by how comfortable it actually is. “Do you have your dress yet?’
The distressed expression on her face is all the answer I need. “It still hasn’t arrived. I’m so worried I won’t get it in time.”
Weeks have gone by since the engagement party. Since the night Perry and I moved into an apartment together and we had our little—interaction.
We haven’t really spoken too much since, and when we do, the conversation is stilted. He’s not home much, and I suppose he’s always working, though I don’t ask him what he’s doing. I spend a lot of time with Jasper. Doja. Or I’m reading.
Meaning life hasn’t changed for me too much. Just living in a new location, there’s a diamond ring on my finger and I’m dealing with my upcoming marriage.
Lately I can’t sleep though. My mind is too full, thinking about far too many things.
Like that one night when Perry came home drunk and talked about seducing me. How mad I’d been—only because I could imagine him doing exactly that. Seducing me.
I would’ve given in. Just out of curiosity, I tell myself.
Or maybe not. Maybe it’s something more.
I feel like I have a connection with him, and it goes beyond the fact that we’re being forced into this. Though lately I don’t feel forced at all.
It’s almost as if I want to marry him.
Which can’t be true. Yes, we’ve gotten closer but after that one night, he’s been distant. Working, he claims. Always working. Is this what I have to look forward to after we’re married?
I can’t believe we’re actually going through with it.
The only time I do go out and do anything is for wedding stuff. Mother and I went to a bakery last week to taste a variety of cake flavors. We went to the florist a few days ago to finalize the flower choices for the ceremony and reception—and it’s going to be so beautiful. There are lots of meetings with Mother to go over color choices, plates and silverware, finalizing the menu.
It’s endless, all the wedding planning. I resented her at first for taking over and now I’m grateful she did it. I’d have no idea what I was doing without her by my side.
“You’ll get your dress,” I reassure her. “It’ll show up in time.”
“I appreciate your faith.” Her eyes lighting up when a gentle tingling rings in the air, indicating someone opened the front door. “Oh, I’m so glad you made it!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Caroline Constantine standing there, a young blonde woman around my age standing next to her.
I recognize her in an instant.
Tinsley. Perry’s younger sister. We spoke briefly at the engagement party but that was it. I was pulled in about twenty different directions that night, and I wish I could’ve spoken to her more. Just like Perry confessed he wished he’d spoken to my younger brother more as well.
Guess we’ll have the rest of our lives to establish both of those relationships.
The two women approach us as we rise to our feet, the both of them in dresses, making me glad Mother forced me to change into one. Caroline pulls me in for a stiff hug and an air kiss.
“You look lovely, dear. I swear you’re positively glowing,” she murmurs as she withdraws from me.
I’m about to respond when Tinsley pulls me in for an enthusiastic hug.
“Charlotte! I can’t wait to see your dress. And get to know you better. When my mom asked if I’d like to accompany her today, I couldn’t resist. Perry’s told me so much about you,” she gushes as she pulls away, her hands still on my shoulders.
“He has?” He actually talks about me to his family?
My skin grows warm. I hope he says nice things.
“Well.” Her expression turns contrite and she lets me go. “Not really. Winston’s mentioned a few things though.”
“Oh.” I hate the disappointment that fills me. I shouldn’t care what Perry says about me to his family, or to anyone else.
But I do.
“Where’s the dress?” Tinsley beams as she glances around the showroom, taking it all in. “This place is huge. And so many pretty things.”
“I’m about to try it on. They’re just prepping a dressing room for me.” I spot one of the employees coming out, and when her gaze catches mine, she waves. “I think it’s ready.”
“It is,” says the woman. “Are you ready, Miss Lancaster?”
I square my shoulders. “Sure.”
Mother steps forward. “I’ll come with you.”
“No.” I shake my head, ignoring the disappointment on her face. “I want it to be a surprise.”
“I love surprises,” Tinsley says, and I can tell she’s trying to ease the tension between my mother and me.
And I appreciate it.
I walk through the bridal showroom, taking in the décor. The large room is light and airy, low green velvet couches scattered throughout, gold light fixtures bathing the interior in a gentle glow. There are displays of bridal accessories everywhere. Shoes and bags—so many tiny white clutches—and jewelry.
It’s a lot. If I allowed myself, I could become caught up in the excitement as if I were an actual blushing bride.
I need to keep reminding myself I’m not.
Once I’m in the dressing room, it’s a process to get me in the gown. And by the time I’m being escorted back out into the showroom to show everyone waiting for me, my mother’s audible gasp is so loud it echoes throughout the building.
“My God, Charlotte! You’re absolutely stunning.” She rests her hand against her chest, as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing.
As I stop in front of the three-way mirror, I suck in a breath.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing either.
It’s a dramatic ballgown that’s off the shoulder, with a sweetheart neckline and corset style, constructed of white silk and lace with appliqued flowers. The skirt is huge and poufy. The train is long and trimmed with more appliqued flowers, and both the skirt and train sparkle when the light hits it.
It’s completely over the top. I look like an old-fashioned wedding cake topper, but I don’t care.
I feel like a queen.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” the employee asks, her voice hushed. Downright reverent. “The gown is absolutely gorgeous.”
“So is the bride-to-be,” Caroline announces as she rises to her feet and comes to stand beside me, our gazes meeting in the mirror. “Perry will swallow his tongue when he sees you walk down that aisle.”