In another life, one where I wasn't the team dentist and Alder, and I didn't have a damning policy hanging over our heads, maybe I could have been friends with these women. Perhaps I could have truly been part of the Stag circle, joining them for dinners and holiday celebrations.
But that's not my reality.
Still, I could use help finding a dress, and the thought of facing formal wear shopping alone after my mother's comments is depressing.
I'd love that
I reply.
Could definitely use your expertise.
Emerson responds immediately:
Perfect! Curvy Couture is on Walnut St in Shadyside tomorrow at around 5? They have amazing stuff.
See you there
I confirm, trying to ignore the voice that whispers I'm only setting myself up for more pain by strengthening connections I'll eventually have to sever.
Curvy Couture is tucked between a high-end shoe store and a coffee shop on one of Shadyside's trendy shopping streets. It’s right near the emergency vet where we took Gordie the other day, but I try not to think about those intimate moments where Alder was so vulnerable, and I loved being someone he could lean on.
The shop window display features mannequins with actual curves wearing beautiful, vibrant formal wear—not a shapeless black sack in sight.
Emerson and Fern are already waiting outside when I arrive, both looking effortlessly stylish. Emerson waves enthusiastically when she spots me.
"Lena! So glad you could make it." She pulls me into a hug like we're old friends instead of people who've met exactly twice. “You remember Fern."
Fern offers a warm smile and a handshake. "Nice to meet you properly. I saw you at the wedding, but things were a bit chaotic."
"You too," I say, taking in her classic style and bright colors. "How long have you been back from London?"
"Just a couple of days. Wyatt has a game this weekend so that we will fly back soon.”
Emerson pats her arm. “The aunts are really going to be pressuring you two to get hitched now that we broke the seal.”
Fern shakes her head. “No way. I’m finishing this PhD if it kills me. Wyatt can wait a few more years.”
There's an easy camaraderie between them that makes me both envious and comfortable. They effortlessly include me in their banter as we enter the boutique, a cheerful bell announcing our arrival. Fern confesses that Wyatt used to be her student when she was a TA for his math class and I realize the Stag men seem to specialize in impossible relationships … and, evidently, figuring out how to make them work.
The store is a revelation—filled with beautiful, fashionableclothes designed for bodies like mine. There are no shapeless tents or matronly styles, just gorgeous, well-made garments that acknowledge curves as assets rather than flaws to be hidden.
"First-timers?" asks a stylish Asian woman who introduces herself as Vivian. "Welcome! Looking for anything in particular?"
"Formal wear for a charity gala," Emerson explains. "Something fabulous for the doc and myself.”
Vivian grins. "I can definitely help with that. Let me pull some options."
As she bustles away, Fern turns to me. "So, you and Alder. How's that going?"
The directness of her question startles me. "Oh, we're not—I mean — it's complicated."
"It always is with the Stags," Emerson says knowingly. She turns to Fern. “Lena fixed Tucker’s tooth and promised Gunny she’d prevent him from losing any.”
“That seems like a big promise,” Fern suggests.
I grin. “I believe what I said was that I would do my best to take care of his teeth.” The conversation momentarily distracts me from my distress about my life choices.
Before Emerson can respond, Vivian returns with an armful of dresses. "Let's start with these. The fitting rooms are in the back."
