"When you get it perfected, let me know and I'll stop by."
"Hey, we didn't yell at each other just now," Adam comments.
"Maybe we should go our separate ways then. We don't want to ruin a good thing," I say, only sort of joking.
"Before we do that, let me ask you something." Adam looks up and down the aisle like he's about to divulge state secrets. When he has the all clear, he leans in toward me, the scent of flour and vanilla seeping into my personal space. "Is Rachel acting weird to you? About wedding stuff?"
I raise an eyebrow as my heart beats a little faster. "Why?"
"I'm not gossiping," he says, raising his hand up and making the Scouts' Honor salute. "And Carter didn't put me up to this. He's being weird too. I thought something might have happened."
"Not that I know of," I say, afraid to give him too much information. "She's been putting her wedding stuff on the back burner, but just a little bit. Between searching for a job and all the freelance work she's doing, she's super busy right now. I'm sure that's it," I say, hoping I didn't just put my foot in my mouth. "What's Carter weird about?"
Adam shrugs. "Closed off, and more than usual. I can't get him to play video games, and he bailed on last week's board game night."
"Nerds," I fake-cough and smile.
"And what do you do for fun? Watch Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta?"
"First of all, the fact that you know the city the show is set in says more about you than me. Secondly, I have more hobbies than dealing with wedding dresses."
"Sorry," he says, and his cheeks redden. "We were doing well at not being dicks to each other."
"Well, we can't expect an entirely smooth transition into civility."
"Do you think Carter and Rachel are going to break up?" Adam asks, solidifying that I'm not the only one thinking that my best friend's engagement is on the way out.
"I hope not; my bridesmaid dress is non-refundable," I joke. I don't want to give him information.
"Evie, what do you think?" Adam asks me again, his dark eyes boring into mine.
I sigh. "I don't know. I hope not. They're a good team. They just need to realize how good they are together."
"And be reminded how bad it is out there when you're single."
"Amen to that," I mimic raising a wine glass just as Adam does the same. We turn away from each other, both of us uncomfortable with performing the same action, even for a second.
"So, what are you thinking? Should we form an alliance to keep our best friends together?" I ask, looking past him at all the bread options.
"Does that mean I have to stop hating you?"
I wince. "We may have to work our way to indifference. Maybe even tolerance."
"That's sounds terrible," Adam says, and I don't argue. A conversation in the grocery store is one thing. Full-on tolerance and an agreement to be in the same room as him is more than I can stand. "So, what are you suggesting we do to get our idiot friends down the aisle?"
I rub my tongue over one of my canine teeth as I think, a weird habit I picked up while reading vampire novels in high school. I don't want to come off as a crazed person intent on snooping and prying into my friends' love lives. I don't want to seem controlling or like some insane puppet master.
But, the thing is, I want Carter and Rachel together. And, if that means that I have to be diabolical, then so be it.
"We need to do some research. See if we can't figure out where they're going wrong. We can suggest romantic date ideas and outings. And we'll text each other if Rachel or Carter are having a shitty day or doubts or whatever, and we can encourage our person to take the other out for drinks or a movie."
"Shouldn't they be discussing their days with each other already? Are their lines of communication that broken down? When Zoe and I were dating, we texted each other all the time."
I force my mouth to stay shut so I don't ask how that worked out for his relationship. If we're going to work together, I have to not be bitter about being abandoned on a date four years ago.
"Are we crossing some line with all of this sneaking around?" Adam asks as we swap phones to exchange numbers. "It doesn't feel right."
"I don't know," I admit as I hand his phone back to him. "But I know how happy Rachel is with Carter, and you've got to admit the man loves her too. It doesn't seem right to let that fall apart without at least trying to keep it together."
"We should probably get them drunk."
I laugh. "You came to play."
"Their guards will be down. We can suggest romantic shit they should do. You know that Carter doesn't screw around with plans and ideas. He'll type everything up on his phone for when he sobers up. There's a reason the man got a book deal before even graduating college."
Carter is a habitual note taker. Rachel swears that one of the walls in his bedroom looks like the boards you see at police stations where the cops are trying to figure out a murder investigation. She even said that he keeps a ball of yarn around to connect bits of notes to one another on said wall. He started a satirical political blog when he was in high school. Over the years, his meager little blog has evolved into a podcast, articles on prominent news websites, a regular column in a major newspaper, and now a book deal about America's current political issues and where the country is headed. All before he's thirty.
The boy could use a drink.
"Okay, so we're officially meddling," I say, sticking my hand out. Adam takes it and we shake on it.
"Meddlers united," he says, and all I can think is that his hands are as rough and as calloused as mine.
Chapter Six
"I don't know why you just can't wear my dress."
"You didn't make Sara wear your dress when she got married."
"That's because Sara didn't want to spend three-thousand dollars on a wedding dress."
"It's because Sara's your favorite!"
The bride stomps off and slams the changing room door behind her.
I hate young brides.
The bride's mother turns to march after her daughter, but I stop her.
"Do you mind if I talk to her first?" I ask gently. The mother looks at me, her eyes narrowed like a snake ready to snap its prey up, but waves me past.
"Hey, it's Evie." I tap on the door. "Can I come in?"
"Whatever."
Good enough.
I take a step inside the dressing room to find the bride hunkered down in a chair, tears ready to spill from her eyes. I feel for her, I do, but I also get her mom not wanting to drop three-grand on a gown. Hell, three-grand is more than what my car is worth.
"I take it Sara is your older sister?" The bride takes a raggedy breath that I assume is a yes. "You know, if she was truly your mom's favorite child, then she would have wanted her in that wedding dress. Your mom obviously cares about you. Are your parents still happily married?"
"Yeah," she mumbles into her shirtsleeve.
"Then maybe she believes in that dress. She wants you to be happy and, as crazy as it sounds, she may just believe that you'll have a happy marriage like her and your dad if you wear her wedding dress. It's a sweet sentiment."
"But the dress … it has a hoop skirt and lace on lace on lace. Here." She pulls her phone out from the pocket of her hoodie and shows me a picture of her in the dress. I can't stop myself from letting out a low whistle. While the gown does seem to fit her well, the dress is … well, it's pretty rough. A Queen Anne neckline that is somehow modest and trashy at the same time, puffy shoulders, and so much synthetic lace at the bottom of the skirt that I want to vomit a little.
"We could update the dress. Remove the sleeves, update the neckline … "
"I just want something of my own. I've had hand-me-downs all my life," she says, no longer able to hold back her tears.
"Okay, okay, we'll figure out something." I wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Do you like anything about this dress?"
She sniffles as she looks at her phone screen. "I like the full skirt and the pearls, there's just too much of it." I don't disagree with her on that. "And I kind of like how the skirt is lower. It makes me look kind of skinny."
"You do have the perfect body type for a dropped waist."
As long as a person feels confident in what she's wearing, then she has the body type for it. I've sold a mermaid gown to every body type out there and, because they felt beautiful and confident in the dress, every single bride looked incredible.
I excuse myself to search for some dresses from the discount rack. The dresses are beautiful and in perfect shape, they're just no longer in high demand or have gone out of style. They will, of course, come back in style within the next five years. Case in point: the sweetheart neckline drop waist gown with pearl trim that I just pulled. It never really went out of style. It's just been waiting for the right person.
The bride changes into the dress and actually smiles. When I take her out for her family to see, her mom's face loses some of its rigidness.
"What do you think?" I ask her family. "She showed me your dress, ma'am, and it is beautiful. This dress is sort of an update of your own. She loved the pearl detail of your dress and the waistline. This gown's sweetheart neckline is a gentle nod to your own dress' Queen Anne shape."