“That’s behind us now. We’ve moved on as best as two people with history can. I’m not asking you to like him, I’m not asking you to like the idea of us—I’m just asking you to be civil. That’s all. And it would be nice if you could sway Dad in that direction. Am I fool for thinking that’s possible?”
Mom dropped onto one of the upholstered stools scattered around the dressing room and folded her hands in her lap. “You’re probably a fool for hoping so, but I promise I will try. For you, Clara Belle. Only you, not for him. I don’t hold a scrap of civility in my make-up for that boy and I never will . . . but for you, because you asked, I will try. No guarantees.”
Avalee paused, looking up at me.
“I know,” I mouthed at her. “That’s progress, Mom. Serious progress. I’ll take it.”
She managed a smile but continued to squirm like she’d just found herself in a troublesome situation. Avalee gave another yank on the dress, so hard she wound up losing her balance and falling back a few steps.
“Easy there, killer,” I said. “Are you okay?”
Avalee’s face went a few shades lighter. “I’m okay.” She held out her hand to reveal something that looked an awful lot like a part of a zipper. A broken part of a zipper. “But I don’t think you are.”
“If I die from suffocation tonight, please, Avalee, I’m trusting you to do this—please don’t let them bury me in this thing. Please don’t let this be what I spend my eternity wearing,” I said as Avalee and I hung back from the other four in our group, who were already heading through the doors of The Half Shell restaurant on the pier.
After the long day we’d all spent together, even if it hadn’t been for the dress restricting my movements, I would have chosen to hang back. Eight hours with my mom, Charlotte, and evil twin cousins was enough to grate on my every last right-versus-wrong perception of premeditated murder. That Charlotte was still breathing after the day she’d spent shoveling shit in my direction was a true miracle.
“You have my word,” Avalee said, shaking her head for the billionth time that day . . . ever since she’d inadvertently ripped the pull of my zipper off when she’d been trying to lower it. “And can I just say, again, how sorry I am for what happened? If I’d known the zipper was a piece of crap, or that the shop didn’t have a seamstress on call today, or that there’d be no other way of getting you out of the dress save for a busted zipper, I would have just left it alone.” She kicked a small rock in our path, forgetting the open-toed sandals she had on. “I’m sorry. Again.”
I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “If you were Charlotte, I’d know you had ulterior motives for busting my zipper, but you’re Avalee, and I know Avalee Abbott doesn’t have a mean, vengeful bone in her body, so don’t worry. You’re forgiven.” I gave her hand another squeeze. “Again.”
“You know, you don’t have to stay in that thing until the seamstress gets to you tomorrow.” Avalee stopped me before we headed through the restaurant doors. “You can always rip it off and drop it into the ocean.” She lifted her chin toward the water. “I won’t tell.”
That option was beyond appealing, especially since I’d have to sleep in this neck-to-toe corset of a hot-mess, but I was making a point now, announcing my manifesto to the world, and more importantly, my sister. Bring it, bitches. I’m not going down. To the dress shop’s merit, they had called one of their seamstresses to bring her in for an “emergency,” but when I found out that meant she’d be pulled away from a day at the beach with her family, I said I could just wait until tomorrow when someone was scheduled to work. I didn’t like garnering special conditions because of my family’s name.
“Between you and me, I think the better way to piss Charlotte off is to smile and pretend like I’ve realized this dress and I were meant to be.” I pulled on the high neckline to let in a little fresh air.
The one upside to being trapped in my bridesmaid dress overnight was that I’d gotten to forgo the duo of waxing and body wraps my mom had booked for me. Instead, I’d spent the afternoon getting a hand-and-foot massage, followed by a relaxing facial. There’s a silver lining to every situation, being confined within Cosmo’s Top 100 Most Hideous Dresses Ever Devised included.
Avalee looked inside the restaurant, zeroing in on the back of our sister’s head. She grinned. “You are oh so very right. You work that dress tonight. Own it. The woman doesn’t let the dress wear her—she wears the fucking dress.”
I held out my arms as far as they would go and looked down at myself. A giant round peach minus the fuzz. “Yeah, something like that . . . I’m just not ripping it off to spite Charlotte.”
“Yeah, you’re right. That thing . . .”—Avalee thrust her hands at my dress—“I don’t care who you are or how many runways you’ve walked, there is no way that dress can be worn without overpowering the woman. Sorry, Clara Belle.”