“Oh, come on,” Naomi teased. “Tell her your latest excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. Closet space is very important to a relationship, and the man just doesn’t have enough. It would never work. My wardrobe and I have been through a lot together. It deserves a beautiful, spacious home. Not a few rolling racks next to pieces of an actual motorcycle that he took apart in the living room,” he said with a shudder.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “Closet space is definitely more important than being in love and sharing your life with someone. I’m sure you can cuddle up to those suede leopard loafers at night just as easily as you can Jeremiah. You probably won’t even notice the difference.”
Naomi grinned. “See? I told you.”
Stef sniffed. “Wedding dress shopping makes you two mean.”
“Here comes our beautiful bride,” Ahmad called.
“Showtime,” Naomi said, clapping her hands.
I hit the video call button on Lina’s phone, and her mother immediately appeared on-screen.
“It’s time!” I told her.
Bonnie Solavita was seated behind an executive desk and holding a mimosa. “I’m ready!”
Lina slunk out in an ivory ballgown so wide she had to turn sideways to squeeze between two mannequins. The spaghetti straps glittered with rhinestones. The corset was tied with a pink satin ribbon. There were so many layers of tulle I had to press my lips together in order not to make a Scarlett O’Hara joke.
The bride didn’t look like she was in the mood for jokes. She looked downright miserable.
“Oh my gosh! That dress was made for you,” Naomi crooned.
“You look…amazing.” I managed to choke the words out.
“I’m…speechless,” Stef said before turning to me and mouthing “What the fuck?”
“Wow! That is some dress, sweetie,” Bonnie piped up on-screen.
Ahmad rested his chin on his knuckles and studied her while his assistants fluttered around Lina, fluffing the skirt until it seemed to double in size. “Do you love it?” he demanded.
“There aren’t words that properly describe how much I hate this dress,” Lina said through clenched teeth.
Ahmad clapped his hands. “To the dressing room.”
Lina practically ran.
“That dress was…something, wasn’t it?” Bonnie asked nervously.
I flipped the phone around so I could see her. “Naomi says she has a plan,” I explained.
“What kind of plan?”
“I don’t know. She won’t tell me.”
Naomi leaned over Stef to see Lina’s mom. “Don’t worry, Bonnie. We’re going to make sure Lina goes home with the perfect dress. I promise you.”
“Well, that definitely wasn’t it,” Bonnie said, taking a gulp of mimosa. “It looked like a white haystack.”
“Here she comes again,” Stef said, shoving Naomi back into position.
We repeated the process four more times with each dress outdoing the awfulness of the one before it.
“You’re looking a little flushed, sweetheart. Maybe you should take a break and do some deep breathing,” Bonnie suggested from the screen.
“I’m fine, Mom,” Lina said, sounding anything but fine. “My heart is fine. I’m just breaking out from neck-to-toe lace.”
“That’s very common for brides,” Ahmad spoke up. “We suggest slathering yourself in antihistamine cream if you’re going to wear something that irritates the skin.”
“You look beautiful,” Naomi assured her.
“Itchy but beautiful,” I agreed.
“You know what? I think I’ve had enough trying on dresses for one day,” Lina said, already unbuckling the crystal belt one of the assistants had lassoed around her waist. “Someone get me out of this thing before my skin peels off.”
“Oh boy. She’s gonna blow,” Stef predicted under his breath.
As Lina danced in place while an assistant began to work on the first of seventy thousand buttons running down her back, Naomi gave Ahmad a nod. He turned toward the back of the store and made a series of elaborate swooping gestures.
Two employees appeared, lugging a mannequin between them. The mannequin was already dressed in a strapless gown with black floral appliqués that began at the fitted bodice and spilled down over the full skirt.
“That goes in the window display, ladies,” Ahmad said to the women.
Lina glanced up in the mirror and froze.
“What’s she looking at?” Bonnie demanded from the phone.
I angled the screen so she could see the dress.
“That one,” Lina said, pointing at the gown.
“This? It just arrived this morning. No one’s even tried it on yet,” Ahmad said coyly.
“It’s a beautiful gown,” Bonnie prompted.
“I don’t know,” Stef mused. “How many brides could get away with wearing black on their wedding day?”
“I’ll try that one on, but after that, we’re leaving,” Lina announced, shoving herself out of the dress. She flounced away from the three-way mirror in a strapless bra and underwear.
Ahmad snapped his fingers at the women, who made quick work of disrobing the mannequin.
“Oh my God. That’s the dress,” I said.
“I know,” Naomi agreed.
“It’s freaking fabulous,” Stef said.
“I know,” Naomi said again with a smug smile.
“And so is Lina,” Bonnie agreed.
“Exactly,” Naomi said, perching on the edge of the cushion, eagerly watching the dressing rooms.
“You’re diabolical,” I told her.
“I only use my powers for good,” she explained.
“Here she comes,” Stef said, sounding excited for the first time.
Lina swept into view like a queen. I gasped. Naomi was already fanning her hands in front of her face to ward off tears. Stef’s hands shot out to grip my knee and Naomi’s.
Lina ascended the pedestal, dropped the skirts, and struck a regal pose.
“Dead. I’m dead,” Ahmad said, clutching his chest theatrically.
“Nash is going to be when he takes one look at her,” I predicted.
Bonnie let out a choked sob from the phone.
Lina whirled around, the skirt floating around her like it was alive. “Mom! Don’t cry. You have a meeting in twenty minutes,” Lina insisted.
“I can’t help it. It’s so perfect for you. Just like Nash. It just makes me so…happy,” Bonnie wailed.
I wondered for the briefest of seconds what it felt like to be standing there wearing a beautiful dress knowing that I was going to marry the man of my dreams. Would I have that moment? And if I did, would it be dimmer because I knew my father wouldn’t be here to walk me down the aisle?
Tears prickled behind my eyes. Damn it! No crying. No self-pity. I was Comeback Sloane, Truly Excellent Bridesmaid. Not Debbie Downer of the Whomp-Whomp Family.
“It is beautiful, and it is me,” Lina conceded. “But what shoes would I wear?”
“Your black lace-up Jimmy Choo boots with the crystal bands,” Stef said.
“Ooh, edgy, comfortable, and regal,” I said.
“Shit. They would be perfect with this,” Lina said, fingering one of the black appliqués.
“This dress was made for you,” Ahmad decided. “It would be an absolute travesty to let anyone else even try her on.” His minions bobbed their heads in agreement.
Lina spun back around to study herself in the mirror. Her eyes met mine. “What do you think, Sloane?”
“It’s so perfect I can barely look at you,” I admitted.
“It is, isn’t it?” She brought her hand to her chest.
“Are you having premature ventricular contractions?” Bonnie demanded.
Lina rolled her eyes. “No, Mom. I’m falling in love with a damn wedding dress.”
All the occupants of the little pink couch erupted in cheers.
“Now, let’s talk about bridesmaid dresses,” Lina said.
“I can’t believe I found a dress.” Lina pushed her plate away with a gusty, satisfied sigh. “No one else had even tried it on. It’s like fate or whatever you weirdo romantics believe in.”
We were squeezed into a small booth in the back of a trendy bistro. Stef had skipped lunch under the guise of having a conference call. Personally, I thought he was just avoiding being heckled about his lack of movement on the moving-in-together front.