Lovestruck Forever (17 page)

“It’s
not quite what we talked about, is it?” Tonya asked
diplomatically.

I
snorted. “That’s Maria and Laura for you. They’re
fantastic
listeners.”

She
helped me out of the dressing room and back out to the showroom where
my family was waiting. Sure enough, Maria and Laura broke into
identical smiles. Even my mother couldn’t hide her pleasure in
the dress.

“That’s
much more like it,” Maria said, coming up to the pedestal to
inspect the dress more closely. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Maria,”
I said, my voice already weary. “It’s everything I said I
didn’t want.” I pointed to various areas of the dress as
I spoke, my fingers jabbing harder into the material the longer my
list got. “A sweetheart necklace. A corset back. Pick-ups in
the skirt. Way too much fake-looking beading. And tulle!
Tulle
,
Maria. A poufy, scratchy, giant fluffball of tulle. The number one
thing I said I didn’t want.”

She
crossed her arms, but I went on before she could argue. “Why
would you think that I would like this dress when it specifically is
filled with the things I said I didn’t want?”

“Because,”
she began, her voice sounding just like someone explaining something
obvious to a small child. “Just because your think you don’t
like something on the hanger doesn’t mean you won’t like
it when it’s on. This is your first time trying on dresses,
Lizzie. You need to have an open mind.”

I
scowled at her, ready to go off on a tirade, but Laura spoke up.

“She
does have a point, Lizzie—” she held up a hand at my
outraged face. “Okay, maybe not about the tulle and the
pick-ups. But you should see what you look like in different
silhouettes and necklines. You really have no way of knowing what
will look best on your figure without trying them on.”

“Fine,”
I ground out through clenched teeth. “I am willing to try on a
variety of silhouettes.” Before Maria’s smile could turn
smug, I jabbed my pointer finger in her direction. “But
no
tulle.”

“Fine,”
she agreed, her smile turning smug anyway. I picked up my skirts and
marched off the pedestal, wishing, not for the first time, that Sofie
could have sucked it up and joined me.

The
next two dresses were also my sisters’ choice, a heavy satin
ball gown (no tulle in sight, thank God) and another mermaid with a
much more subtle, natural shape—a fit and flare, according to
Tonya.

“You
know,” Maria said thoughtfully, staring at me in the mirror. “I
assumed a ball gown would be most flattering on you, but I’m
actually liking this fit and flare for your figure. It makes you look
taller.”

“And
the ball gowns made me look short and stumpy,” I snapped. “I
wonder who could have predicted that? Oh, wait, I did.”

“Don’t
be catty, Lizzie,” she said, circling the pedestal. “I
think this might be the best shape for you. But it’s a little
plain…”

“Plain?”
I asked, dismayed. The dress had a smattering of crystals at both the
neckline and waist. It was about as far as I felt comfortable going
in the bejeweled spectrum.

“Do
you love it?” my mother asked. “I think Maria is right,
the silhouette is very flattering. But that doesn’t matter if
you don’t love it.”

I
peered at myself in the mirror. The dress did hug my curves and
lengthen me. The simplicity of it and the cut actually reminded me a
lot of the dress I had worn to Thomas’s
Darkness
premiere in London, which was the night I felt most beautiful in all
of my life. But I’d also felt not quite like myself that night,
like someone who was dressing up to fit into a fancy party. It had
been exciting and exhilarating, but was it the way that I wanted to
look on my wedding day?

“I
like it,” I finally said. “But I don’t think I love
it.”

“That’s
okay,” Tonya said, and I wondered how much patience you would
have to have to do a job like hers. There must be a lot of indecisive
brides out there. “We’ve narrowed down what basic shapes
you like, so now we can be more picky in our choices.”

She
must have caught sight of the eager look in Laura’s eyes
because she quickly continued, “I think it would be easiest if
I pulled the dresses, though.” She smiled at both of my
sisters. “It’s very easy to get overwhelmed and off track
with too many choices.”

She
was being nice, cheerful even, but the warning was there all the
same.
Stay the hell out
of my dressing room
. I
could have hugged her.

I
tried on dresses for another forty-five minutes as I became more and
more despondent—and slightly bored. I had come in knowing just
what I thought I wanted, and my sisters had, of course, shot that to
hell with their interfering. The annoying thing was that they were
right—I did look better in a fit and flare than in an A-line,
which did little for my larger than average hips. But knowing that
only made me feel more confused than I had when I started. I couldn’t
decide what kind of fabric I liked, what level of embellishment. When
I confessed this to Tonya, she patted my shoulder. “I think
you’re thinking too analytically now, dear. The perfect dress
for you will be more than just the sum of its parts.”

By
the time our appointment drew to a close, I was no closer to a
decision. My mother and Laura assured me this was normal, that I was
under no obligation to find a dress on the first try, while Maria
quietly mumbled about the fast-approaching deadlines.

As
I turned into our long, tree-lined driveway, I was feeling frustrated
and let down. A day I had looked forward to for so long had ended up
being a big bust. I felt even farther from my dress than I had
before, and now I felt the pressure of not having made a decision.
What if I couldn’t ever find something that I liked? Callie
often made me watch those wedding dress shows on cable, and I had
always scoffed at the amount of importance they put on a dress they’d
wear for just one night. But now that it was my actual wedding, I
understood their plight much better. What if I ended up like one of
those girls who looked and looked for months, trying on hundreds of
dresses and exhausting entire stores worth of inventory?

And
,
I thought morosely as I got out of the car,
Sofie
hadn’t even been there to make me feel better about it all.
And Thomas wasn’t here now, to listen to me bitch and moan for
a while before kissing me and convincing me it would all be okay.

I
went inside, fully planning on going straight to my room to lie down
with a good book. But Sofie had other plans—she met me at the
door, her eyes wide and red. She’d clearly been crying.

“I
am so sorry,” she wailed, bursting into tears again as she
threw her arms around me. “I am the most selfish, spoiled,
terrible cousin. I cannot believe I missed that, Lizzie.”

Surprised
by the quick turn, I was a moment late in returning her hug. She
quickly released me, staring into my face. “You’re mad,
aren’t you? Of course you are. I would be furious if you pulled
this shit on me.”

“I’m
not mad,” I said quickly. “I mean, I was, but—”

My
words brought fresh tears. “Of course you were. This day was
important. We’ve talked about it forever. And I skipped out on
you, completely let you down, all because I was too worried about my
own silly little problems—”

Fearing
she was on the verge of hysteria, I grabbed her arm and pulled her
into the kitchen, pushing her into one of the kitchen chairs. “Okay,
first of all,” I said soothingly, rubbing her back as she
hiccupped, “your problems are not silly or little. You have
every right to be freaking out about things, Sofie.”

“But
you’re the one that’s helping me,” she wailed.
“You’re the one that took me in and is supporting me.
You’re the one I should be there for, no matter what. And what
do I do instead? Send you off alone to…to…find your
wedding dress!” She sobbed the last words, so upset that I
actually felt like I might start giggling soon. She was acting like
she had committed the worst crime against humanity. While I’d
been plenty annoyed at the time, it was hard to be pissed at her now.

“And
it’s all because I was feeling depressed and sorry for myself,”
she continued, sniffling loudly. “What kind of a person am I?”

“A
hormonal one,” I said, hoping she didn’t take offense.
“It’s normal to have mood swings when you’re
pregnant, Sof.”

“You
think—” she hiccupped loudly, “—that I’m
hormonal?”

I
bit my lip to keep from laughing at the wide-eyed incredulity. “Maybe
just a little,” I told her, patting her back again. “And
that’s okay.”

She
shook her head, her still-uncombed hair flipping back and forth.
“It’s not okay. I missed you picking out your dress. It’s
all I’ll be able to think about during your wedding, how I
wasn’t there for you.”

“Just
be there next time,” I said.

“What
do you mean?”

I
sighed, plopping into the chair next to her. “No dress. I
couldn’t decide.”

I
thought she might sympathize, but her entire face lit up. “So
there’s going to be more shopping? I didn’t blow my
chance?”

“Nope.
I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot more shopping.”

She
made a face. “That bad?”

“Let’s
just say I was subjected to the very best my sisters had to offer.”

“Oh
God,” she moaned. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll
be there next time to hold them off.”

“You
better, Sof.” I patted her hand kindly. “I’m very
sympathetic to your plight, dear cousin, but if you ever leave me
alone with my sisters for something like this again, I will kick your
pregnant ass.”

I
spent the next several weeks traveling back and forth between Detroit
and London. I wasn’t quite getting over to see Thomas every
other week, as we had initially planned. It was just too difficult to
do that much international travel, particularly with the work I was
now putting in on revising my manuscript with Ciara. The book was
coming along nicely, but I missed Thomas.

So
I was in a particularly good mood as mid-July approached. Thomas and
Annie were invited to attend Comic-Con in San Diego. As one of the
best-known conventions of all things pop culture in the entire world,
it was a pretty big opportunity for them to promote the upcoming
Earth’s End
.
They’d be speaking on a panel as well as attending a sneak
preview of the film. In addition, Thomas had a panel scheduled with
the
Darkness
cast to discuss the next installment, due to start shooting in the
spring. There would also be a dizzying array of industry parties and
events, all of which were bending over backward to get Thomas to
agree to attend.

His
shooting schedule in London now getting particularly tight, Thomas
had to fly directly to San Diego, where I would meet him at the
hotel. Sofie drove me to the airport. She had finally managed to stop
puking at the slightest provocation, and was thus feeling much
better. However, she still refused to so much as talk to her parents.

On
our way to the airport, they called her cell—a daily
occurrence. “What if they’re trying to apologize?”
I asked as she threw the phone down in disgust, unanswered.

“What
difference will it make?” she asked. “They’ll
apologize and then what? I go back home? You know it doesn’t
matter how many times they say they’re sorry, they’ll be
right back to their old ways the minute I’m back in their
house—the disappointed looks, the little sighs. The
not-so-subtle encouragement for me to try and “work things out”
with the baby’s daddy. No thanks.”

“You
wouldn’t have to move home,” I reasoned. “Taking
their call and hearing what they have to say doesn’t have to
change anything—you can still stay with me, you know.”

“Oh,
I plan on it,” she said happily. “In fact, I plan to take
baths in your giant whirlpool tub the entire time you’re gone.
I’m going to use all that fancy bubble bath Thomas brought you
back from Paris.”

“You
better not,” I warned.

“And
I’m going to walk around naked all weekend,” she went on,
ignoring my protests.

“You
keep your naked pregnant ass off my furniture, Sof.”

She
merely cackled mercilessly.

“What
about Laura’s baby shower?” I asked quietly, deciding to
ignore her attempts at distracting me from the conversation by
pissing me off.

I
could sense her stiffen next to me. “What about it?”

“It’s
next month. Will you be there?”

She
was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know, Lizzie. I
don’t want to miss it. I love Laura, and I know how long she’s
wanted this baby. I just…I don’t know if I can handle
it. All of our female relatives in one room? Every one of them will
know that I’m knocked up out of wedlock. You know they’ll
all be talking about me.”

“They’ll
be talking about Laura,” I insisted. “She’ll be the
focus.”

“I
doubt she’ll be the focus for my mother. I’m assuming she
RSVP’d already?”

“Of
course.”

“And
my sister, too.”

When
I nodded, she made a little scathing noise in the back of her throat.
“Well, then.”

I
paused, not wanting to upset her. “Look, I know it will be
hard. And I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I think
you’ll end up feeling bad if you don’t go. Remember how
shitty you felt when you ditched me for the dress shopping?”

She
nodded, silent.

“You’ve
always been close with Laura,” I pressed. “She loves
you.”

“I
love her, too.”

“Her
baby shower is kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“She
could have another baby,” Sofie argued.

“And
when has our family ever thrown a shower for a second baby? This is a
big deal for her and you know it.”