Page 159 of Seale the Deal

The whole messy truth. How this all started with Remi’s idea. How I lost everything back home, and Remi and I decided that by faking a marriage, we could get me a green card faster. How I never expected to find family here, and I failed them by lying. How somewhere in the middle of it all, I fell completely, stupidly in love with Ruger. And how I have a job offer sitting in my inbox waiting to be answered, and how everyone maybe wasted their time, effort, and resources doing this because I don’t know which way I’m going to go.

By the time I finish, my chest is raw, and my throat feels like sandpaper.

Wow, Audrey says at last. I… didn’t think you’d ever confess.

Beryl nods in agreement.

Remi and I look at each other, then back at Audrey.

What? I ask.

She chuckles softly. It wasn’t obvious at first, but the more I got to know you, the more I started noticing little things.

Like what?

Like some of your answers seemed kind of rehearsed, she says. And when they weren’t robotic, there was always this little hesitation.

Wow, we suck at this, Remi says.

Why didn’t you say anything?

Walter’s wife warned us that lying about marriage could cause real trouble. She wraps an arm around Remi and pulls her into her. We love these twins too much to let anything happen to them. And we love you too, Wrenley.

New tears form, and there’s no stopping them.

I went from a stranger to someone they look at as one of their own. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before. Not like this. Not with people who have no reason to keep their hearts open to me but are.

I belong here, and I didn’t have to earn my place.

I feel bad about the dress, I say.

Why? Beryl asks. If this isn’t your wedding, then you take it with you and wear it when you do get married. My only rule is you have to invite me.

She says it so casually, as if there’s no question I’ll still be part of her life years from now.

I made this for you, Beryl adds. No matter what happens tomorrow, it’s yours.

I swallow past a lump in my throat. Thank you.

And then, I don’t know who initiates it, but suddenly, we’re all hugging.

When we pull apart, Audrey wipes at her eyes, her mascara a little smeared. Let’s try on this dress. Then either way, you’ll know you’re ready. You’ll know you’ll look as beautiful on the outside as you do inside.

I look around at these four women and realize they’re not just my friends. They’re my family.

Ten minutes later, I step out of the back room in the wedding dress. My fingers trail over the vintage silk as though it might vanish if I don’t keep touching it. When I step in front of the full-length mirror, I gasp. It’s hard to believe that once upon a time, this gown was buried under too much lace, too much organza, too much everything. Now, somehow, it’s the classic Hollywood style I love.

The front bodice dips low, the lace between the panels that covers my breast. Even though lace isn’t usually my thing, knowing it’s a small piece of Beryl’s original makes it feel special, and I love it. The skirt flows in a perfect A-line, whispering against the floor. I smooth my palms down the fabric again and again, just to watch it move.

This dress was reborn. Audrey and Beryl took all the pain it had carried, all the years it sat neglected, and convinced it to try again.

I love it, I whisper. My throat is tight, my chest aching. I can’t thank you enough.

Beryl wipes at her cheeks, tears shimmering in her kind eyes. You are such a beautiful bride.

She really is, Remi says, and there are tears in her eyes that make more spill from mine.

We have to stop crying, I say.