I close my eyes and take a slow breath. “Can’t I just show up naked?”
“Don’t tempt me.” He groans. “You could show up in just flowers and I’d be happy. Plus, it would give us a schedule to stay on so we can ravish you later.”
Two knocks on the door tell me I have to get back out there. “Thank you, Gun. I love you.”
“I’m totally serious, woman!”
But I hang up and roll my eyes. The woman brings in a dress and hangs it up. When I see the huge amount of fabric, I arch my eyebrow, but she holds up her hands. “Your mom told me you’re getting married in a garden and that you light up like a fairytale princess whenever you talk about your … husbands. Plural – is that right?”
I nod.
She smiles and motions to the dress. “I know you said you didn’t want the princess style, but this one isn’t as full in the skirt and I think you will like it. It’s a very unique dress for your unique wedding.”
I sigh and try it on. I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s not what I had in mind, but at the same time … I kind of love it. Almost clear fabric anchors the dress over my shoulder and shows a plunging neckline that almost shows my belly, but the dress is … like a dream.
The ruffles of white fabric keep it from looking slutty, and instead make it magical. The pretend sleeves fall over my arms and brush my forearms with their delicate lace and then the skirt, it’s layered fabric, but is light, airy, and sweeps around me making me feel small and still powerful somehow.
“Wow.” I breathe.
She clasps her hands as she finishes pulling it in the back. “You look like a princess, but the kind that saves herself.”
I walk out in the dress and I see Valerie’s jaw hit the floor. My mom tears up and clasps her hands together under her chin. The woman puts my hair in a low bun, then sets a veil in my bun, so it doesn’t cover the front of the dress and my eyes start to water.
I love it. A dress I never would have chosen, but wow. Just … wow. I can see myself in the garden, standing out from the color and the art. I can wear whatever necklace I want, it has so many options and all I can think is: yes.
“So, Mom, Maid of Honor, what do you think?”
“If you don’t choose this dress, I’m done with you.” Valerie threatens. “It’s the first one that’s given you that dreamy look in your eyes.”
“This is it,” I say seriously. “This is the dress. The only one that could possibly … That could possibly be enough.”
My mom bounces. “Oh my god, yes. Just yes. Your dad is going to have a cow, then he’s going to cry. I can already see the pictures.”
“It’s an Elihav Sasson. A good pick, I think. Especially for the venue.” The saleswoman continues.
I nod and stroke over the skirt. “It’s perfect.”
It’s so perfect that I don’t want to take it off. I want to live in it, to wear it constantly, to bask in the fact that I’m getting married. We clink champagne glasses together and I hug my mom and my best friend as we all cry.
“I feel like a bride.” I blubber. “It’s the first time.”
“And don’t you worry about anything else,” Valerie says. “Your mom and I are going to make sure everything else goes to plan. All you have to do is choose and we’ll be on the vendors like crazy.”
I laugh and wipe my eyes. I can’t believe I have a dress. I spin in it and Valerie dips me back, so I can see myself in the mirror.
There are still a million and a half things to stress about, but seeing this, posing for a picture with Valerie, then my mother as they start talking alterations makes it real.
In five weeks, I’m getting married. The four men I’ve come to love will be mine forever. All mine and a whole day will be about our relationship, celebrating what we’ve built together while setting a high bar for our future.
We’re going to get there. We’ll be at the altar, we’ll say the vows, we’ll dance, we’ll drink, we’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted, including the fairytale of happily ever after.
When I take off the dress and say goodbye, for now, a weight leaves my chest. That’s what’s important. None of the other details matter – I was right at the beginning. As long as I have my men waiting for me at the end of the aisle and they get as misty-eyed by my dress and me as my mom did, then everything will be right with the world.
We can make it there. We will.
ROMAN
“Aphotographer,” I say. “We don’t have one yet.”