My mom’s eyes lit up when she saw all the tulle in my hands. “Oh Sasha, that’s lovely.”
“Glad you think so.” I followed the chipper dress consultant to the dressing rooms.
After a lot of wiggling, pulling, and a panel of fabric to hide my ass, I waddled out to the platform surrounded by mirrors.
I stepped onto the dais and kept my eyes on my ridiculous reflection. I looked like a ginger Cinderella.
“Oh, honey!” My mom gushed, jumping up from her seat, champagne sloshing over the rim of her glass. “You look like a princess!” Her hands fussed with the layers of the skirt as I stood with my jaw on the floor.
“You like it?”
She looked up at me in the mirror, her hands smoothing the fabric on my waist that bunched because the sample size didn’t fit me. They could order my size. The designer was a rarity that focused on midsize and up, but, of course, the store only had the smallest size available to try on.
“Like it? I love it!”
Positive words while trying on clothes were a rarity with my mom, so the urge to agree was strong. I looked back at my reflection, trying my damnedest to like it, but the dress was absolutely horrid. “It’s . . . nice,” I forced out.
My mom gave me a watery smile, laughing. “You hate it. But thank you for trying.” She wiped under her eyes as she shooed me and back to the dressing room. “Go try on one of those sexy, lacy, silky things you girls picked.”
We all laughed as I hustled back into the dressing room. Everyone was having a good time and enjoying each other’s company, and I was positively floating by the time we got to the last dress.
As soon as I slid the satin mermaid number over my body, I knew. The dress was made for me, well, once they cut one to my measurements.
Chloe smiled sweetly and held up a tissue box. “Should we go out there and show them how amazing you look?”
I took a tissue and twisted it in my hands. Blinking back tears, I cleared my throat. “Let’s do it.”
She swung the door open, and I took a step out. All conversation died when they noticed me. I tried to keep my hands from shaking as Chloe helped me up onto the platform. My three reflections confirmed I looked terrific.
As the seconds ticked by and no one spoke, my nerves won out, and I looked behind me. “You guys.” I choked out a sob.
Adriana, Jazz, Ashley, and Sarah held hands, tears welling in their eyes.
“Oh, Sasha. You’re gorgeous.” Mom covered her mouth with her hands while tears poured down her cheeks.
Rosa stood, ever the stoic lady, and joined me. “You’re a vision.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Chloe, dear, this is the one.”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Moretti. I’ll be right back.”
Adriana brought me a champagne flute and raised her own. “To Sasha’s perfect dress!”
“To Sasha’s perfect dress!”
Chloe took my measurements, and then we tried on some bridesmaid dresses since we’d found “the one.” Trying to find a color that flattered Jazz’s dark brown skin, Ashley’s medium brown skin, Adriana’s natural tan, and Sarah’s pale complexion was excruciating.
“I give up.” I reclined on the stiff couch.
“How about we let the girls pick their own color and cut, and they can make sure the fabrics match?”
I rolled my head toward Rosa. “You sure, Rosa? Does Sasha and the gemstones fit the theme?”
“It’s your wedding, honey.” Rosa smiled at Mom. “I think we can make it work. Right, Maggie?”
“I think so.” The two women smiled, sharing some telepathic conversation I’d never be privy to.
Jazz flopped next to me and grinned. “So, we get to pick our own dresses?”
“Yes. The pressure to choose is too much for me.”