Well Played (Well Met #2)(27)

“Pfft. You kids and your Instagram.” She took a sip of her fizzy water and shot me a crooked smile and I relaxed, glad to be off the hook.

Just then, Emily came out in dress number three.

The first dress she’d showed us had made her look like a ballerina in a child’s jewelry box, and not in a good way. She’d been swallowed up by all the tulle, and the whole thing had been Too Much. The second dress had been the opposite extreme: sleek and fitted. It looked fantastic on her, but she didn’t look like a bride. She looked like someone on the way to an overly formal business meeting.

But dress number three, much like Goldilocks and Baby Bear’s chair, was Just Right.

I remembered that first day when Emily, April, and I had talked dresses. Passing Emily’s tablet back and forth over brunch, pulling up photos of ideas. The dress Emily wore now was the perfect amalgam of our thoughts that first mimosa-fueled morning. The top was halter style, fitted and embroidered with transparent sequins that caught the light perfectly. The skirt was made up of layers of tulle and lace, but she didn’t disappear into them the way she had in the first dress. This skirt poofed out just enough, falling in soft points around her legs, giving the appearance of a full-length dress without the weight of fabric or bulkiness that would normally come from so many layers. She looked perfect for an outdoor wedding at a Renaissance faire.

April obviously agreed with me. “Yes!” She surged out of her chair, still holding on to her glass of fizzy water. “Oh, yeah, kiddo. This is the one!” She paced a slow circle around her sister, and Emily’s eyebrows rose at me in a question while April was behind her.

“You think?” Her question was a response to April, but she directed the words toward me.

“Absolutely!” I said. “I love it. In fact, I’m pretty sure now that you were trolling us with those first two dresses.”

“Oh, yeah, Emily. Those other two were shit. Just shit.”

Emily barked out a laugh. “No, go ahead, April. Tell me what you really think.” She shot me a wide-eyed look, but I couldn’t back her up.

“Sorry, Em. But I agree with your sister on this one. This is obviously the winner. The other two were just awful.”

“Fine.” She threw up her hands and tried to look annoyed, but her wide smile gave her away. She ran her hands over the bodice of the dress, down to her waist, fluffing the tulle in the skirt. When she looked back up at me, her eyes were shot through with worry. “I really do like this. You think Simon will . . . ?”

“Simon’s gonna swallow his tongue when he sees you in this.” I nodded solemnly.

“For real,” April echoed.

Emily flushed pink, and when her smile turned slightly wicked, I knew she was already thinking ahead to her wedding day. Maybe even the wedding night. Nope. I wasn’t going there.

She twirled for us one more time, then went back into the dressing room, emerging a few minutes later in her jeans and T-shirt. Fashion show was over, apparently.

“Next!” She clapped her hands together while, behind her, our assigned shop attendant cleared the dressing room of rejected wedding gowns. “April, your dress is in there. The green. Stacey, you’re after April.”

I kept a smile on my face while my anxiety spiked. This was exactly what I was nervous about. I wasn’t terribly self-conscious about my body. It was mine and it was healthy, even if it was a little rounder than the glossy women’s magazines said it should be. I knew how to dress myself, and I knew what looked good on me.

But that didn’t mean Emily knew. She was tiny. She was thin. In her wedding dress, once we put a crown of flowers on her head, she would look like a fairy princess. Her sister was built much the same, so Emily wouldn’t have any problem finding something that would work on her. But on my completely different body type? This could be a disaster. Sure, I’d given her input on dress ideas—our shared Pinterest board was impressive. But I hadn’t seen any of her real choices before today. Those first two wedding gowns had been garbage, so I didn’t trust her taste anymore. What was she making us wear?

Sure enough, a few minutes later April came out of the dressing room looking like a model. Well, a model who was a foot too short to actually walk a runway, with no shoes on, and still wearing the baseball cap she’d worn to the shop.

“Seriously?” Emily plucked the hat from her sister’s head, and April snatched it back.

“I’m not wearing it in the wedding, calm down.” She stuffed her hair back inside her hat, threading it through the back, then smoothed her hands down the dress. “This works. I mean, we have to take it in, but they’ll do that, right?”

Take it in. I’d never had that problem. I tried not to roll my eyes while I surveyed April’s dress. Then I pursed my lips and turned to Emily. “You were trolling us with those first two dresses. I knew it.” April’s dress was a riff on Emily’s gown: simpler lines and in pastel green, but the same lacy handkerchief hem, this time with a sleeveless, high-necked bodice that called attention to April’s well-toned arms.

Emily grinned. “Okay, maybe a little. But I wanted to be sure, you know?” She nudged me. “Your dress is in there too. The pink. Go try it on; I can’t wait to see.”

I didn’t want to. April’s dress looked perfect on her, but if I wore it I’d look like a sausage in a too-small casing. My boobs would distort the lace, and the high-neck sleeveless cut would make my very not-toned arms look like Christmas hams. But I trudged into the dressing room anyway, because that was what you did for best friends. You wore awful dresses and your biggest smile while they got married.