That did not help. “I can’t be married today,” I snapped. “I don’t have a dress.”
“You have a best friend who should be getting her bachelor’s degree in style and fashion instead of psychology,” she shook her head. “What, you think I’d let you get a dress off the fucking rack from a department store?” She shuddered then pointed to the chair. “Sit your ass down. Let Marilyn make you more radiant. We will bring you non-alcoholic champagne, which I think should be illegal, but your over-the-top fiancé would likely scalp me or something if I dared to give you a sip of champagne, even the French stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “And I really like my hair today, so…” She pointed to the chair.
I looked at the women then to my mother. “You knew about this?” I gaped at her.
She grinned. “Well, you knew about my surprise wedding, so it’s only fair.”
Shit. I had nothing to say to that.
Nor could I argue with Sariah, so I sat my ass in the chair.
“Sariah,” I breathed.
“I know.” She beamed.
“Sariah,” I repeated.
“Iknow!” she jumped up and down.
We were in my mother’s closet.
I was wearing the wedding dress that she’d found me. Normally, even a best friend buying you your wedding dress would be out of the question. But I was the only person who had Sariah as a best friend.
And she was magic.
The dress fit me like a glove. I had no idea how, unless she’d measured me in my sleep or something, which I wouldn’t put past her.
It was a light violet, so light that it was almost beige, but not quite. It somehow didn’t wash me out and complimented my alabaster skin perfectly, which in it of itself was utter sorcery. The bodice was a ‘v’ that constrained my new boobs to perfection, off the shoulder sleeves displaying my collarbone and the necklace my mom had gotten me for my nineteenth birthday.
It had a silk lining and tulle that flowed down my body like butter. The sleeves themselves cascaded down the dress, flowing into the small train behind me. The fabric flowed over my bump like a waterfall, somehow not making me look like a cream puff but instead…
“A goddess,” I whispered to myself.
Sariah stroked my hair. It was done similar to hers with intricate braids and wildflowers woven through it. “Took the words right out of my mouth,” she whispered.
My makeup was light, blush high on my cheeks, neutral eyeshadow and lashes that made my eyes glow almost purple.
“Thank you,” I told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
She was in her dress now. A burnt beige silk, also off the shoulder, it hugged her every curve and dipped way low at the back.
“Thank you for the dress. For choosing to be a part of that house share back in Providence. I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you,” my voice broke.
“You sure as shit wouldn’t look this good on your wedding day,” she joked before wiping my tears away. “No crying,” she murmured. “Marilyn will yell at us both.”
I smiled weakly.
“You’re my family, babe,” Sariah said quietly. “It is me who would be fucking lost if I hadn’t met you that day.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m honored to stand beside you as you wed your biker.” She winked. “Gives me more material for the novel I’ll be writing about you all.”
I laughed at my friend.
“Oh my god you’re an angel!” my mother declared, walking into the room.
She was also wearing something Sariah had sourced. Hers was a deep purple, almost black, a striking contrast against her skin and the silk skimming over her curves.
“Well, I don’t know about an angel since I don’t think they get pregnant out of wedlock, but something close,” I teased.
My mom’s eyes glittered with tears.