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The invitations had gone out and the RSVPs were flooding in, so Quinn was playing a constant game of seating chart roulette whenever a guest declined, but ninety-nine percent of the responses were yeses.
My anxiety over whether or not I’d have a maid of honor by my side was overshadowed by my elation to meet my dad. We had a lunch date scheduled for Tuesday afternoon at a little Italian restaurant about an hour and a half outside of New York.
After my fitting with Phina, I asked her to help me choose an outfit for our upcoming lunch.
“You’ve never met your father before?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not since I was a baby. I have no memory from the few months or weeks he lived with us, but he used to send me cards on holidays and call from time to time.”
“Rayne, this is incredible! How are you so calm?”
I think I was having a fight-or-flight response. We had messaged each other several times over the last few days. Each response brought another wave of intense excitement and cemented him more in my future.
Turned out my dad loved the show Blacklist, had hearing loss in his left ear—a result of years of working in loud construction, he ate two fried eggs every morning, drank his coffee black, and drove an old Chevy pickup. Our back and forth was still in the question and answer stages, but I was beginning to piece together a picture of the man whose DNA I shared.
“I think it’s nerves,” I finally said. “Although, I have been oddly chill for the last two days.” Even New York wasn’t causing the same angst I typically felt when visiting.
“You’re happy.”
Was that it? I had always dreamed about this moment. Was this what contentment felt like?
“I am happy. The wedding plans are mostly finished, all of our vendors are booked, the linens are ordered, there’s nothing left but the final touches.”
Final touches and Elle, but I didn’t want to think about her right now.
“And you.”
“Huh?”
Seraphina smiled. “The final touches are all about you.”
Maybe that was it.
“So!” Seraphina clapped her hands and steered me toward the dressing room. “Let’s get you out of this gown and find the perfect outfit for you to meet your dad. I’m thinking a trip to Bergdorf. Champagne first, because this definitely calls for a celebration. And then shopping!”
Shopping with Seraphina rivaled the Olympic games when it came to intensity. The girl knew how to spend and she took control of every store they visited. Who knew there were personal shoppers available to fulfill a customer’s beck and call? I certainly didn’t. But everywhere we went someone was there to wait on us hand and foot.
Hale’s sister strategically put together a complete outfit—including every accessory—for when I would meet my father.
“Clothes impact confidence, Rayne. They’re our armor. When we’re dressed properly, we can handle anything the world throws at us.”
I wasn’t sure if Phina owned a pair of sweatpants, but I was pretty sure if she wore them the value would increase.
“Nothing too fancy. It’s just a lunch. And nothing too CEO-esque. I don’t want him to get the impression that I’m cold.”
“No one could ever think that about you. You’re one of the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever met. You give a very warm and welcoming first impression, Rayne. He’s going to love you instantly.”
I hoped so.
In the end, I settled on a cream sweater with a rolled turtle neck and a taupe, cashmere skirt with brown leather boots. It was dressy, but understated. Phina insisted on pearl earrings—something I never thought I’d own—but she was right. They added the perfect degree of understated luxury. Simplistic, yet elegant.
“You should have your lashes done.”
“No—”
“It’ll save you the hassle of putting on mascara every day.”
“Really?”
