CARA

Date, time, and place.

The three words rocket around in my mind for a few days. The narrative around Alex was easy at first, logging dates with him that mirrored phone calls with Toby. But now the fantasy is diverging from reality and I can’t crib my notes from real life.

Well, an elopement could happen quickly. Time to rip the bandage off.

I should be done with this current project for my advisor by the end of the week, and then the following week is pretty light.

Perfect time to get hitched.

I’ll need some proof. Would I hire a photographer if I were doing this for real?

I think so.

I send a few inquiries out, to both photographers and officiants. Three officiants turn me down because we won’t have a license, but one says yes, and he’s wide open Tuesday through Friday.

Two photographers also get back to me. One can only do Monday, but the other is available all week in the middle of the day.

Taking a deep breath, I call Toby. He answers right away.

“Can you find me someone for next week? Any day, Tuesday through Friday, between the hours of ten and three. I’d need him for two hours, I think. A quick service and some photographs. And then I’d like him to be available for a trip to New York City…” My voice wobbles and steel my nerves. Pull your shit together, Cara. “For the last weekend in June. Leaving New York on the second of July.”

He repeats some of that. I can hear him writing it down. Then he pauses. “You won’t bring him to the shore for the Fourth?”

“No.” A weird, squirmy shame rushes through me. “I couldn’t do that long. Really just twenty-four hours. Fly in, stay at a hotel, visit Nana, fly back again. So he’ll need a passport.”

“Got it.”

“So the plan is—”

Toby cuts me off. “Cara, maybe wait until he emails you.”

“Of course.”

“It’s just—”

“No, that makes sense.” I look at the clock. “And it’s the middle of your work day. I’ll let you go.”

“I’ll text you later.” But he already sounds distant, and that’s for the best.

I can’t get too attached to him. He has an empire to run and I have my own life to live—the reason I started this entire ruse in the first place.

To that end, I pack up my computer into my messenger bag. But instead of heading for the subway station to cut across the top of downtown to my apartment building, I set out along Bloor Street, then cut north into Yorkdale so I can hit the Whole Foods.

I usually skip around the shopping mall, especially when the weather is nice, but something draws me into Yorkdale Village this afternoon.

Well, not something. I know exactly what I’m looking for as soon as I pull open the door.

I’m looking for a dress.

What am I going to write in the log tonight?

Alex said… “Even though you’re not leaving for a year, I’m already sad about saying goodbye.”

“It doesn’t need to be goodbye. No matter where I go next, we’ll have phone calls and video chat. We can do cyber-brunch whenever we want.”

“I like real brunch.”

“Me, too.”

“You know, I was thinking…if we were married, you could stay.”

I’m not planning on staying. But there’s something about his face, his earnest expression, that makes me want to consider putting down roots for the first time. Maybe. Probably not.

“What do you think? Want to get married?”

As far as proposals go, it’s not that impressive. For some reason I don’t quite understand, I still say yes.

The end of the story needs some romantic massaging, but I’ve got time to work on it. Maybe we had the conversation whispered in the hallway at my building on campus, him leaning over me, one hand plastered against the wall, his lips brushing my ear…

That’s better.

And then he had to go back to work, because he’s always busy, and so I came here to find a dress.

Right.

What kind of dress do I want after that kind of proposal?

I slow down and cast my attention into the first store on my left, then the next. Sporty, funky…no, nothing like that. I should be humming with excitement. I want to remember this day, this private moment, for the rest of my life.

I cross to the other side and poke my head into a store there. Lots of tulle, promising. But everything is a bit fussy for the locations I’ve narrowed this down to. I think I’m going to get hitched on campus, because as Toby would say, that’s been my home here in this city.

That means some walking, depending where we want to do it. So the dress needs to be soft and light.

I keep hunting. Four more stores, four more nopes.

But the last shop at the end is perfect.

Three dresses leap into my arms, and I’m practically skipping as I head toward the change room.

None of them are designed to be wedding dresses, of course. I’m not going to go that far with this charade. The first one is short, the hem brushing my knees. It’s soft and floaty, with a bit more fabric in the back. Very romantic, and from a distance, anyone would think I was just on a date with my…Alex. My escort.

The second is pretty, but too pretty, really. It’s covered in glittery bits, some rhinestones and sequins here and there, and if we were eloping at night, maybe. Not for a daytime thing, though.

I giggle to myself as a perfect nighttime elopement springs fully formed into my head. I’ve been reading too much about weddings lately.

The last one is the longest, the chiffon skirt falling all the way to the ground. It’s the palest shade of blue I’ve ever seen, and even before I contort myself to zip up the snug, strapless bodice, I know it fits me like a glove.

It might not be the right dress to wear. The first one would suffice. I carefully unzip—after twirling twice—and then stand back so I can look at them both.

My heart is already set on the pale blue one. It looks like a sexy, modern version of Cinderella’s dress, if Cinderella liked her dresses strapless and so tight she didn’t need a bra.

Toby looks like Prince Charming…

And that’s reason enough for me to also buy the shorter yellow dress. There’s no way I’m getting fake-married in a dress that makes me fantasize about Mr. Right-If-He-Wasn’t-Totally-Off-Limits.