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“I don’t want to misrepresent what we’re doing—” she began.
“Ladies, we need to move on.” Calla checked her phone and then the agenda in front of her. Some of the conversation died down, and the meeting moved along to the next point of interest. Willow basically had whiplash and kept her mouth shut until the meeting was over.
Calla found her while the women were dispersing. She looked apologetic as she wound her way toward Willow’s chair.
“Did I put you on the spot?”
Willow laughed, but not because what she’d said was funny. “Yeah, a little.”
“I didn’t mean to. And maybe this meeting was too last minute.” She nibbled on her lip, drumming her fingers against the table as the room cleared out. Vanessa lingered near the door, clutching folders to her chest as she conferred with someone. “But here’s the thing. You weren’t being drilled or anything. These women are serious. This tribe is serious. I wanted you to get a taste of what you’re coming into.”
“Yeah, well…I think I can say I got my taste.” She rubbed at her forehead. The weak hangover headache she’d woken up with had now upgraded to a Level Ten Throbber. She needed aspirin and shitty television, stat.
“Don’t be discouraged.” Calla squeezed her wrist. “Just be prepared for the next meeting. Come back with concrete options of what you think is best and why. The women won’t have a hard time choosing then.”
Willow nodded. Calla wasn’t being mean, but even so, failure pulsed inside her.
If this was what tribal life was going to be like, maybe she’d made a mistake.
Was it too late to turn back now?
10
Willow didn’t have much time to question things around her. The wedding train was a well-oiled machine, and it seemed like the forward motion was exquisitely controlled by forces beyond her.
But when Calla called Willow to her design studio the next day for an impromptu wedding dress fitting, Willow was starting to realize that Calla was the true hopeless romantic at the wheel here.
“I think it’s time we start thinking about your dress,” Calla said, pulling pins out of her mouth as she rushed around her studio between bolts of fabric. “I’ve been studying you, you know? And I think I know exactly the dress. But I need your input, of course.”
Willow could only gape. Calla was so involved in every aspect of the tribe. It was a little overwhelming to think that she might need to live up to this status. Willow couldn’t bring a whole new business to the tribe. She couldn’t dress newcomers in personalized high fashion. She couldn’t be like Calla.
“You are so lovely,” Willow began, “But I just don’t know if I’m cut out for one of your dresses.”
Calla stopped, brows drawing together. “I don’t understand. You wore my dress last weekend.”
“One of your original designs,” Willow clarified. “Not a custom piece. The dress I wore for the engagement party was amazing, don’t get me wrong. But I’m so simple. I mean, my wardrobe consists basically of three different tunic dresses and two cardigans. I’m a boring schoo
lteacher at heart.”
Calla snorted, swatting away her words. “Every woman is cut out for her own originally designed wedding dress. Trust me. You deserve this.”
Willow swallowed a knot in her throat, looking down at the ground. “But you and I both know this wedding isn’t real.”
Calla tutted, breezing over to Willow. She lifted her chin with an index finger, forcing Willow to meet her serious gaze.
“This wedding will be the realest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” she said in a low but stern voice. “My husband and I didn’t have even half the appreciation for each other on the day we were married that I see in you and Nasser. Talk to Vanessa and Amad. You’ll hear the same thing.”
Willow frowned. “But you know what I mean.”
Calla offered a breezy smile. “When I look at you and Nasser, I see two people who are terribly in love but can’t even say it.”
Her words thudded through the tents, and Willow was left speechless. Calla had a point. It was just too hard to admit it.
“Which is why you deserve your own handcrafted wedding dress,” Calla said. “I’m kind of a pro at designing wedding dresses by now. This will be fun for me. Let’s get your measurements. I mean, honestly, if you don’t like it or even want it, I won’t be offended. I just like the process of designing a new wedding dress.” Calla invited Willow up onto a pedestal framed by spotlights. Calla hummed as she measured Willow’s bust, waist, and hips.
“Talk about hourglass,” Calla murmured as she scribbled some notes on a pad of paper. “I’ve got some ideas. I’m thinking something kind of like the engagement dress we put you in, but much grander. Scoop neck, form-fitting, with a train that sparkles for a mile behind you.”
Willow bit at her bottom lip. “Isn’t that a little extrava—“
