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She displays a hand. “I know. I know. In a shocking turn of events, your mother wants wedding pictures where her daughter looks happy.”
Guess who can’t put her hands on her hips, either?
It’s me.
Arms straight down at my sides with disapproval, I lift my chin. “You expect far too much of me.”
“Are you really going through with this?” Penny asks, having found her way to a section of blush pink dresses. “You actually want to marry Marshipan?”
Isn’t that just the billion-dollar question?
Brigid snorts and tugs on my skirt. “Of course she does. Do you really think anything less than love would get Marci into this much tulle?”
I look down at the abundant scratchy material and refuse to admit Brigid has a valid point.
My mom smiles. “I like Finn. He was very shy and polite when he talked with your father and I at the bonfire. I think we terrified him, which is an excellent sign given that he was the one with on-site bodyguards.”
My eyes roll as I shuffle back into the dressing room to get out of this disaster. “Finn is a good person. A really good person. It’s telling that the things I hate most about him are all stupid. Like, wow. I really need to grasp for reasons, don’t I? He’s just a genuine, kind person.”
“Who is very, very hot,” Brigid calls.
Penny adds, “And who has very nice hair!”
“Which adds to the hotness.”
“It adds to his fluffiness,” I mutter. “He has very fluffy, bright, bonkable hair.”
Penny giggles. “It is as pretty as a wiggly duck butt.”
My lips tug into a sardonic smile. “I agree.” The second I’ve squeezed the dress down to my hips, my mom throws the curtain back.
Squeaking, I cover myself. “Mom! I’m naked.”
“Just like when I birthed you, idiot. Here.” She shoves something silken, sleeveless, and splattered with autumn colors at me. “This is the one.”
“Isn’t this a bit—”
“Perfect?” Her trim brows rise. “Yes. It is. There’s a cape that will cover your shoulders waiting for you out here. And there’s a matching reception dress. So we can go straight to dinner after you’re done making sure they fit.”
Without letting me get another word in, my mother pulls the curtain closed, and I listen to her heels click her back to her seat at the end of the runway.
Getting dinner does sound better than sobbing over five hundred more dresses.
Never let it be said my mother and I aren’t related. The genetics are loud.
After I change into the autumn gown, I glide from the dressing room and make my way down the cat walk, feeling exposed. “This is really expensive.” I wrap my bare shoulders in a hug and scan for the previously mentioned cape.
“Boohoo.” Mom twirls her finger. “What was the budget Finn gave you for this wedding again?”
I do my daughterly duty and spin, grumbling, “Half a million dollars…was mentioned…not really budgeted, exactly, though…”
“And how much have you spent so far?”
Less than a hundred thousand. Closer to fifty thousand. Because, honestly, who the heckish frick is spending half a million dollars on a wedding? I came distressingly close to having Taco Bell cater. Thankfully, my mother smacked me upside the head and told me to get Olive Garden instead. “I…do not want to tell you.”
“Hm.” She death stares at me. “Telling.”
“You look like a princess!” Penny clasps her hands together and shines at me, eyes turning into literal stars.
