Page 38 of The Wedding Favor

When I finally wrangled it on and stood in front of the mirror, I cringed in horror. Floor length, the unforgiving fabric showed every lump and bump, and worse, it was beige. With my platinum hair and pale skin, the color completely washed me out. Hadn’t Missy said the wedding colors were shades of pink? If someone were to squint from a distance, I was pretty sure I looked naked. Objectively, this dress was hideous. Five out of five dentists would agree.

“Iris, come out so we can see,” Missy called.

Not a chance. “This one won’t work. Let me try on another one.”

“No, no. I want to see all of them. I have a vision.” The door whipped open, and Missy stood in the doorway. “Turn around and let me see.”

I turned. “Is the theme for the wedding Naked Mole Rat? Because that’s about what this dress makes me look like.”

The two Ashley(leigh)s and one Jane appeared behind her. One of them covered her mouth. Probably in horror… or to hide her laughter.

Missy tapped her chin with a finger, appearing to give this dress real consideration. “I like it. Maybe some shapewear underneath…”

“Is this what all the bridesmaids are wearing?”

All four of them shook their heads. In unison.

“Of course not,” Missy said. “You’re not a bridesmaid. You’re the best woman. We need something special just for you. That’s why I picked all these out. Plus, there’s no time to order a matching gown. We did that months ago when we had more time.” She shuffled back. “Put that in the maybe pile and try on the next one.”

If I wasn’t sure before whether Missy hated me, the next outfit confirmed it. There was absolutely no way she hadn’t done this on purpose.

This time, I didn’t wait for her to barge in. I practically ripped the door open and stomped out. I stopped in front of the trio of mirrors, my expression horrified now that I could see myself in almost a three-sixty view. The Four Horsewomen were seated at a couch facing me.

“Well, that’s interesting,” said Ashley. Or Ashleigh. One of them.

The dress was orange. Not sherbet. Not the color of the sky at sunset. Not even the color of an… orange. It was neon. It probably glowed in the dark.

“Don’t you think this might… distract from the bride?” I stared at my image and tried not to visibly shudder. “You’d have to give out sunglasses as wedding favors.”

“I think it’s a lovely color on you,” Missy said firmly.

“Maybe if I were a traffic cone.”

“She does have a point,” Jane said. I decided right then that Jane was the least objectionable of the Four Horsewomen.

“Oh, fine.” Missy waved me away. “Let’s try on the next one.”

Outfit three was a knee-length, pastel pink taffeta dress right out of an eighties prom. There were puffy sleeves and ruffles. I looked like a powder puff, and not a happy one.

Missy loved it. Missy gushed over it. Missy asked if there was time to add more ruffles.

By the time I got to the last outfit, I was planning my escape by whatever means. To Portugal or Liechtenstein or Antarctica. I didn’t want to be in the wedding. Heck, I didn’t even want to go to the wedding. I wanted to stay home and watch Jimmy Stewart try to explain why he was talking to a six-foot invisible rabbit. Or watch Norman Bates wielding that knife. At this point, I wanted to be in that hotel shower while he wielded that knife rather than attend this wedding.

Why had I agreed to this? Once upon a time, Aidan and I had been best friends, but that’s when we were also in a relationship. Can you truly be best friends with your ex? Not just your ex, but one you still might be ever so slightly in love with? Truthfully, I didn’t even know how I felt anymore, but I knew I didn’t like the anxious feeling I got in the pit of my stomach every time I saw his name pop up on my phone. Was my body figuring out something my brain or my heart also needed to catch onto? My feelings for Aidan confused me, and I was really tired of it. But either way, I wasn’t sure we could ever really be best friends again.

“Is that… velvet?” Jane asked when I stepped in front of the mirrors.

“Yes.” I could only manage to eke out the one word as I stared at my reflection. Outfit four was by far the worst, and that was really saying something.

“I thought that since she’ll be standing with the men, she might look good in pants.” Missy stood up and walked around me, clapping her hands in excitement. “I love it.”

How in the world she’d managed to find a black velvet pantsuit in my size designed to look like a tuxedo, I’ll never know. Maybe kindergarten teachers were also witches?

“Oh, no,” I whispered. Please, no. Never mind how ugly it was, velvet at a summer wedding in Texas? Maybe she was trying to kill me by heat stroke. Inwardly, I cringed for the nine-hundredth time since arriving at this shop. What if this was the outfit I died in? Hot firefighters would see me in this and probably, rightly, understand I’d died of embarrassment.

“Oh, before I forget,” Missy said, coming to a halt in front of me. “I know you told Aidan you were bringing a plus one. Who is it?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it. How could we talk about a plus one situation when I was wearing this… this atrocity on my person?