One Month Later

“Please tell me again why we are doing this?”

I suck in, the air in my lungs burning as I hear the zipper on the back of the dress zip up.

“Chelsea, if you don’t want to be supportive, you don’t have to be here,” I half-joke.

The seamstress taps me on the shoulder, signaling that I can turn around and walk out.

I’m halfway out of the fitting room when my best friend answers again. “I don’t mean this, as in trying on wedding dresses. I mean, why are we doing this so soon? Don’t people wait a little before starting to plan a wedding? Much less actually have one in less than ninety days.”

The delicate layers of tulle waft around me as I look at the panel of people before me. “Mom, are you going to cry at every single one?”

She blows her nose, sobbing again. “You just look so beautiful!”

Leave it to my mother to be even more of a bridezilla than any of the brides in this bridal dress salon. She sits next to Farrah, who looks like she might be allergic to my mother’s crying. Chelsea sits next to my coworker, and Hillary, who I have become close with even as Paxton goes through retirement, looks on as well. They’ve all assembled to make my bridal party, and have been a huge help scrambling to make our wedding happen.

After the initial shock and celebration of the Super Bowl and our engagement wore off, which took about a week, my fiancé announced he would like to get married as soon as possible. As in, tomorrow, and he wasn’t kidding. I put him off a little, saying that I’d been dreaming about this moment and that if we didn’t give my mother a fairy-tale wedding, she’d Jewish guilt us both to death.

So here I was, trying to find my dream wedding dress in a week, so that we could get married in two months. I’d already hired the photographer, a friend of Hillary’s who did their family portraits here in Charlotte. We’d booked a venue, which was surprisingly easy with my event planning contacts. I was using the same florist I did for every annual Wish Upon a Star gala, and Paxton was in charge of the band and hotel accommodations. It might be a whirlwind, but I was surprised at how easily everything was coming together.

“And, Chels, they usually do. But we’ve wasted so much time, you know that more than anyone.” I raised a brow at her. “So, tell me if you like this one?”

I waved a hand to model it for them. The dress had a full, fluffy skirt with tiny crystal flowers all over it. The straps were illusion and wide with a deep V to my cleavage, but still modest. It was gorgeous, and a little flutter went through my stomach as I waited for them to respond.

“Well, I don’t dislike it as much as that mermaid crap you were talking about before, so I’m sold!” Farrah smiled.

She was my rational thinker during this time, keeping me on track and on budget.

“I think this is the one!” Hillary clapped, always positive. She and Mom were on the same page, and my mom smiled and nodded through hysterics.

“I love it. You look incredible. But then again, you look incredible in anything. Oh, and if Paxton Shaw ever hurts you, I told him I’d cut his ding-a-ling off and shove it down his throat.” Chelsea made the slice-across-her-throat motion.

Okay, so she was still a little skeptical of my husband-to-be, but she was coming around.

Farrah laughed hysterically. It seemed that my college best friend and my work best friend were a match made in heaven. They’d already set up a happy hour for all of us tomorrow night, and were calling it the bachelorette before the bachelorette. I’m pretty sure they were forcing me to have the ever-popular girls trip simply so they could party their asses off, but I was happy to do it for them.

“I really think this is the one, Demi,” Hillary spoke again, nodding like an experienced stylist. She was my fellow fashion lover; we prayed at the altar of shoes and purses. “Can we see that veil? No, not the fingertip one, the cathedral. Every woman deserves to wear a cathedral veil once in her life. I plan on wearing one at least three times.”

“Does that mean you’ll have three husbands?” Chelsea asked.

Hillary waved her hand. “Oh lord no, one husband is all I can handle. No, I’ll make Charles marry me two more times. For the romance of it, but mostly so I can buy two more wedding dresses that are completely different than the one I wore the first time.”

My mom started to laugh. “Isn’t that the truth? One husband is surely enough. That’s why they want you to get it right the first time, because trying to find another one is completely exhausting. Not to mention, I will never wash another man’s underwear. No, thank you.”

Chels hugged my mom as she laughed. “Amen to that, Mama Rosen!”

The consultant put the veil on me, clipping it into my hair, and bringing me earrings to go with it.

“Oh no, she won’t be wearing those.” My mom shooed her away, and I smiled at her.

I knew why she didn’t want me to put them in. “You still want me to wear them?”

Mom nodded, tears wetting both of our eyes. “Of course I do, your grandmother would want you to wear her pearls.”

Before she’d passed, my grandma would tell me all the time how she couldn’t wait to see her pearl and diamond studs, her most prized possession, on the lobes of her only granddaughter on her wedding day. And now I was going to do just that.

When everything else was fastened and zipped, I turned, looking in the three panel mirror at the end of the little runway the salon had in the middle of the store.

And my mouth dropped. I looked like a bride. A full-fledged, fairy-tale, white Christmas ornament, bride. “Oh my God …”

“That’s the reaction we were looking for. Sold, we’ll take it!” Chels whirled her hand around, signaling to the bridal consultant to pack it up. “Now, let’s go have a drink. I’ve fulfilled my maid of honor duties, and need a stiff martini.”

With tears in my eyes, I laughed. “Okay fine, let’s go pay you in blue cheese stuffed olives. But, I don’t think I’m going to take this off until the wedding day. So, I can wear this for another two months, right?”