“Sweet!” Mike crowed. He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling them right now.”
“I’ll handle it,” Ramona grumbled, gesturing to Fidel. He typed something on the iPad. Then Ramona turned to Hanna. “And are you thinking about bridesmaids? We should get them in for a fitting, too.”
“Yes,” Hanna said automatically. “I want Aria, Spencer, and Emily.”
Everyone gasped. It took Hanna a moment to realize her gaffe, and she hiccupped. “Or, um, not Emily, obviously.” She suddenly felt disoriented. “And maybe not those others, either.” It wasn’t like Spencer would want to do it. And Aria . . . well, that was out of the question, too. “It would probably be better if it was just me.”
Ramona raised an eyebrow. “Bridesmaids are part of the fun. You choose their dresses, their jewelry, you’ll have a buddy the day of the ceremony . . .”
Hanna felt her chin wobble. Mike grabbed her hand. “She said she doesn’t want bridesmaids, okay?” He said it so ferociously that Hanna wanted to kiss him.
“She’ll have a flower girl, though,” Ms. Marin piped up. She looked at Hanna. “What about Morgan?”
“Definitely,” Hanna said, mustering a smile. Morgan Greenspan was her seven-year-old cousin on her mom’s side and pretty much the cutest thing ever. Every time Hanna saw her, she begged Hanna to catch fireflies with her in the backyard and told her stories about her pet Brussels griffon.
Ramona just shrugged. “Okay. We’ll have to talk colors so I know what kind of flower-girl dresses to bring in. Now, why don’t you go start trying on those gowns. Chop-chop!”
Hanna turned to the dresses once more, but they didn’t provide her as much joy as they had only a few seconds before. Your best friends are gone, a voice pounded away in her head. All of them.
Her throat closed like it often did when she was about to cry. Hanna put her head down, gathered a bunch of dresses in her arms, and climbed the stairs to her room. Everything suddenly felt tainted. Emily was dead—she had to accept it. She’d read, a few hours ago, that the coast guard had given up their search for her.
She turned Mike’s bracelet around her wrist. If only you were still here, Em, she thought. You’d figure out a way to get us all back together. You’d fix everything.
The light suddenly shifted, sending a golden slant through Hanna’s window and skimming the top of her head. Hanna looked over, and for a moment, the space next to her on the bed felt warm, almost like there was someone sitting there. She decided to pretend it was Emily’s spirit. She thought about pulling Emily close, holding her tight, and never letting her go. She could almost hear Emily’s voice in her ear. I’m glad you’re getting married, Hanna. You should be happy.
Hanna straightened up, feeling renewed. Emily was totally right. If she dwelled in her sorrow, if she fixated on everything that was wrong, Ali was winning. Screw that.
She turned to the dresses on her bed and unzipped the first garment bag. It was a strapless gown made in delicate silk and overlaid with lace. Tiny jewels peppered the bodice, and it had a slimming fit all the way down to the dramatic, sweeping train. Hanna gasped. Not that she’d ever tell Ramona, but she used to spend hours sketching her ideal wedding dress when she was younger—and it had looked almost exactly like this.
She slid it over her head and beheld herself in the mirror, astonished at the sudden transformation. She looked . . . older. Beautiful. And super thin. She twirled and grinned, unable to take her eyes off her reflection. Then, squealing with delight, she ran downstairs and peered around the corner. “Mike, hide in the bathroom. I can’t have you seeing me!”
She waited until there was the obligatory slam to the door, then flounced down the stairs. Ramona stared at her impassively. Fidel tapped notes. Hanna’s mom looked like she was going to cry. “Oh, honey,” she breathed, pressing her hands to her breast. “You look lovely.”
The rest of the evening proceeded just like that: Hanna sent Mike out for a little while and tried on dresses, shoes, and veils. Mike returned and everyone tasted wedding cake, settling on the white buttercream from Bliss. Ramona made bullying phone calls to Chanticleer and catering companies and florists, demanding that they get their acts together by the end of this week or she’d never work with them again. With every yes Ramona got, Hanna felt more and more confident that Emily really was watching her, creating a smooth path. You deserve to be happy, she could hear her saying. Even if it’s only for one day.