The shop we go to is a small boutique tucked away in a corner of the upscale shopping district. Aiden parks in front and leads me inside. There’s a woman at the front desk, so crisp and collected that I immediately feel underdressed. She’s willowy, with a jet-black bob cut at an angle against her sharp jaw. Her gray eyes calmly take us in and she rounds the desk.
The gilded tag on the front of her black blouse says her name is Diana. She raises a hand, gesturing toward the entrance to the main room.
“Welcome, Mr. O’Reilly. We’ve prepared a few things per your instructions.”
“Thank you.”
I follow Diana and Aiden into the room, which is full of full-length mirrors and curtained dressing rooms. There are sections of dresses, all different styles and colors.
“You’ll find everything you need here. Once you decide on something you like, we’ll finalize the details. Everything is done in-house. Color and material changes are, of course, a simple task.”
Diana withdraws to the desk, I assume to retrieve something for measurements. I’m left with Aiden, who seems like he’s less than interested in the process. He walks to a white upholstered chair near the door, like he’s ready to run.
If I were actually marrying him—if I really wanted to—I’d worry he was getting cold feet.
Instead, I’m grateful to be given a break. I roam around the room, looking at random dresses as I go. They’re gorgeous.
They’re expensive.
My father has money. He’s been wealthy since I was a child. This is crazy, though. I glance over at Aiden. He doesn’t seem to care. I know he set this up. He chose this place, so he must know what it’s like.
Deciding not to think too hard about that, I focus on the dresses again. Part of me doesn’t want to pick a dress I love. I don’t want to give that to Aiden. But another part of me worries that I’ll never have this chance again.
If nothing works, if I can’t save myself, I’m going to be married to Aiden for good.
Diana comes back just in time to see me pull a dress from the rack. She comes forward to take it, artfully tossing it over her arm. She follows me around the room, taking my picks as I find them.
When I have everything, I start the process.
The dressing room curtains are heavy. Diana draws them closed for me before helping me into the first wedding dress.
I try to treat it like just a regular shopping spree, pretending I’m looking for a clubbing dress or something. But that illusion gets harder to maintain when I step in front of a mirror for the first time, Diana at my side as I examine myself.
My hair is pulled into a messy bun, out of the way for the process. It somehow looks less messy and more soft when I’m in a wedding dress, like I’m a casual, beachy bride.
The dress is gorgeous. It’s not my style, but I can appreciate the full ballgown silhouette. It somehow doesn’t make me look like I’m drowning in an upside-down cupcake, which is how I expected to feel. I could wear it if I had to.
I don’t want to, though.
“What are we thinking?” Diana asks.
Her tone is patient, neutral, like she’s used to unusual situations with brides who are less than ecstatic. Like she’s used to brides without bridesmaids.
I wonder if other women have come here before being married off to men in the mafia.
“I don’t think so,” I say. I glance at Aiden’s reflection in the mirror. He isn’t looking.
“What about it doesn’t suit you?”
“It’s a little too full.”
“All right. Let’s try something else.”
The rest of the dresses fly by. I barely recognize what I’m doing. The magic of it has worn off, like cheap silver-plated jewelry. I keep going through the motions without much thought.
Finally, I try on something that looks good. Something I wouldn’t mind wearing. I’ve decided that if I have to do this, I’ll do it in a dress I like.
It looks a little vintage, like it was made to evoke bygone days where weddings were put in the newspaper. The neck is boat-shaped, the sleeves off the shoulders, all of the top lace. It has a full skirt, but less fabric than a ball gown. The high waist is punctuated with a thin ribbon.
