At 10:40 the following morning, I marched into Caryn’s office and told her we were going to lunch. She looked up at me, then glanced down at her diamond-encrusted watch, an engagement gift from her fiancé’s parents. “It’s too early for lunch.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t eat anyway. What do you care?” I came behind her desk and opened her drawer, then pulled out her purse. “Just come on. I have a surprise for you.”
She looked at me warily, but stood and took her purse. “What’s actually going on?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” I pushed her shoulders toward the door. “Come on. I have an Uber coming in three minutes.”
Caryn peppered me with questions as we made our way to the Uber, but I didn’t tell her what we were doing until we arrived at the salon. “I have an appointment here next weekend,” she said, confused.
“Let’s just try something.”
“Lily, I don’t want to try on more dresses today.”
“Just one. For me?”
She looked upset and I wondered again if I had made a mistake doing this, but she stepped out of the car anyway. I checked us in at the front desk and a mousy-looking woman named Rita came forward and greeted Caryn. “I have your dress waiting for you,” she said. “But I’m happy to pull more as well.”
Caryn turned to me. “What dress? What’s going on?”
“I looked at your Pinterest,” I said. “You pinned the same one three times. They have it here. Let’s just try that one. If it’s no good, we’ll go back to the office and we can do the rest of the appointments. But this one is with just me, and I’ll be honest if it’s not the right dress. Okay?”
She looked doubtful. “I don’t even know which dress you mean.”
“It’s right in here,” Rita said, gesturing toward a fitting room. “Can I get either of you some champagne?”
We both refused, and I sat down on the sofa outside the dressing room to wait for Caryn. She sighed, but handed me her purse and complied. Rita went in with her. That didn’t seem like an enjoyable part of the experience from the previous weekend, but I had never been a big fan of stripping in front of strangers, despite my behavior at Megan’s engagement party.
I scrolled through my social media feed while I waited and a text message from Megan came in. WE GOT THE HOUSE!!!!
WOOHOO! I replied. CONGRATULATIONS! She had texted me a Redfin listing a few days earlier, and I scrolled up in the conversation to see the pictures again. The house was small, but cute. The wallpaper in the dining room was a disaster, and the people who were selling it had atrocious taste—based on the sheer volume of commemorative plates, it was possible they were old enough to have died in there, necessitating the sale. But with some paint and new furniture, it had potential.
When do you move in?
We close in three weeks and will move after that!
I replied with celebratory emojis, then went back to the listing to look at the price. Whoa. I can barely afford my rent.
“Lily.” I looked up to see Caryn mounting the block in front of the three mirrors, the dress’s train in her right hand and butterfly clips holding it shut at the back.
I studied her reflection as she turned to examine the dress. “Wow,” I said quietly.
“You think?”
I nodded, my eyes actually welling up. “It’s perfect.” It wasn’t what I would have chosen for myself, but Caryn looked better than the models in the Pinterest pictures had.
She turned sideways. “It doesn’t make my butt look big?”
I shook my head. “Caryn, this was made for you.”
She smiled slowly. “I think—I think this is it.” She turned to Rita. “Is it available in ivory?”
I looked up sharply. “What’s wrong with white?” If she had heard Caroline’s comment, or if Caroline had said it to her face after I left, future sister-in-law or not, I was going to murder her.
“I’m too pale,” she explained. “I’ll look washed out in my pictures in white.”
Rita checked her tablet. “It is,” she said. “Two different shades and also blush.”
Caryn asked to see samples of the two shades of ivory and Rita went to find them. “I should probably keep the other appointments this weekend though,” she said, still studying her reflection, unwilling to take the dress off yet.
“Why?”
“The other girls will feel left out.”
I opened my mouth, about to tell her the snarky comments they had made while she was in the dressing room, but I stopped myself. That would only make her feel even more self-conscious around them. They could literally call her a cow to her face, and possibly had in the past, and she would still keep them in the wedding. “It’s your call,” I said finally, glad she was too engrossed with her reflection to notice the conflict that battled across my face. She wasn’t wrong; I didn’t have much of a poker face.
“I don’t want them to hate you for going behind their backs. They can be a little—oh, you met them!” I refrained from using the word that immediately came to mind as a description. She chewed the inner corner of her bottom lip. “Maybe—maybe I shuffle the appointments so we come here first the next weekend, so I don’t have to go to all those other places. It’s not nice to waste their time after all, right?”
I nodded. “And hey, these places have a waiting list for weekend appointments, right?” I asked Rita, who had returned with the fabric swatches. “It’ll make some other bride’s day if she gets your slot. And what if you invite your mom for this weekend so she can be here when you find ‘the dress.’”
“Is that weird?” Caryn asked Rita.
She smiled knowingly. “I’ll pretend I’ve never seen you before.”
Caryn dropped her shoulders in relief. I hadn’t even realized how much tension she was carrying there until she lowered them. She looked at herself in the mirror again, then stepped off the pedestal to hug me. “Thank you.”
I returned her hug tightly. “Of course.” I paused. “Do I still get to sing in the birdcage?”
She laughed. “You can do anything you want after this.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I had a package waiting for me when I got home. I tore into it, expecting the new yoga pants I had ordered, but found a journal, brightly colored dual-tipped markers, stencils, stickers, and a gift note from Megan instead.
I know organization isn’t your thing, but a bullet journal will help you keep all of the weddings straight! I already put some of my important dates in for you! XX —Meg.
Bullet journals were more Megan than me. But she had picked one that was perfect for me: it had a turquoise background with gold lettering that said, “Get Shit Done.” I flipped to the first page, where she had written Lily’s wedding journal in sparkly gold pen. Turning to June, I saw that her wedding day was filled in with rose gold, as well as her rehearsal dinner, bridal shower, and bachelorette party.
Thank you for my super cute gift, I texted her. She replied with a kissy face.
I camped out in the living room and started transcribing dates from my phone calendar into the journal. Would I actually carry a journal around with me normally? No, I was pretty digital. But the profanity on it made me like it.
Megan’s first wedding dress shopping date conflicted with Caryn’s appointment at the salon where we had secretly found her dress, but I figured that my behind-the-scenes work meant I could skip the fake appointment. I was supposed to go with my mother and sister on Sunday the following weekend, and I assumed I wouldn’t be involved in Madison’s dress shopping since they lived in Chicago. But I realized I hadn’t heard anything from Sharon about dresses and decided to check in and see how she was doing.
Hey love, I texted. How’s planning going? Are you looking for dresses? Can I help with anything?
I don’t want to get married anymore, she responded. I called her immediately.
“What happened? I can hire someone to break Josh’s kneecaps.”
“No, I do want to marry Josh. I just don’t want a wedding.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “I went dress shopping with my mom and my sister. And the saleslady was so mean. She took away the only dress I liked.”
“What do you mean the saleslady took away the dress you liked?”
“She said it wasn’t good on me.”