Molly brought the chucks from behind her back, and Jocelyn sucked in a sharp breath. Her face contorted, but then she smoothed out her features.
“Keeping the simple…elegance.” She stumbled over the last word. “I may have to take the hem up a couple of inches, but at least we can get the fit just right.”
Molly relaxed. “I know they aren’t your style, but I want to be comfortable on my wedding day. Not afraid of tripping and doing a faceplant as I’m walking down the aisle.”
“You sure you want to go with white, though?” Betsy picked up the glass I’d set on the table in front of her. “A leopard print would be cool. Or tie-dye.” Her face remained the same as ever, and like so many times in the past, I wondered if she was joking or dead serious.
Jocelyn blanched. “I’m going to get the dress now.” She hurried down the hall to her room.
“Are you nervous?” Amanda asked.
“To get married to Ben?” Molly placed her shoes on the floor. “No. When I think about joining my life with his, I only feel overwhelming happiness. Being nervous would mean I had doubts, wouldn’t it? I’ve never had a single doubt that I wanted to be with Ben.”
I looked down at my cider glass, glad Jocelyn had brought the drink out so I’d have something to do with my hands. Tiny bubbles clung to the sides, released and floated to the top, then popped.
I’d been a basket of nerves leading up to my wedding with Greg. Everyone assured me those feelings were natural. That lots of people experienced cold feet before the big day and not to worry about it.
I could never honestly say I wished I’d listened to those confusing feelings or that I regretted marrying Greg. If I hadn’t married him, then I wouldn’t have Sierra, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. If I had the opportunity to go back and change my decisions or do it all over again, I’d repeat everything—even the pain and heartache. Because everything was worth it to have her.
Jocelyn reentered the living room carrying the dress form, her gorgeous creation of curves and fabric swathed over the mannequin-like figure.
Molly fanned her face, the waterworks threatening to start again. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Hurry up and try it on,” Amanda demanded. “We’re all waiting.”
Jocelyn looked at Molly, the dress, then the rest of us. “I should have had you come back to the room to put the gown on instead of hauling it out here. Now I’ll need to carry the dress back again.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Molly stepped over to the windows and closed the blinds. “You guys know I’m not shy like that.” She shimmied out of her pants, then pulled her shirt over her head.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as if I were the one disrobing in front of other people. If Molly had an online dating profile, words likeathleticorwillowywould be used to describe her physical form. She didn’t seem at all uncomfortable stripping to her bra and undies in front of us. We were close—the best of friends—but paramedics would have to cut me out of my clothes before I’d reveal the rolls of my muffin top or the thunderous thickness of my thighs.
Jocelyn worked to free the dress from the form, then helped Molly into the gown.
“It’s so soft.” Molly ran her fingers over the textured satin fabric.
Jocelyn tugged on the short zipper in the back. “No bra on the wedding day. The boning and cups I’ve sewn in will give you enough support, and the back dips down too low to hide any bra straps.” She made a few adjustments, then stood back. “There.”
“Molly, you look stunning,” Amanda said. “Ben’s going to lose his mind when he sees you and want to skip the reception and head straight for the honeymoon.”
Molly blushed but looked pleased.
“Jocelyn, you need to quit your budget analyst job.” Betsy stood and walked closer to Molly, inspecting the dress and Jocelyn’s design.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jocelyn waved her off.
Betsy snapped her head up. “I’m serious. I may be in music and not fashion, but I know talent when I see it, and you, girl, have got some serious mad skills. Don’t waste them staring at spreadsheets all day.”
It was Jocelyn’s turn to blush. She coughed and refocused on Molly. “How does it feel?”
Molly glowed. “Like perfection.”
“Hmm.” Jocelyn ran her hand along the seams at the sides, her gaze as sharp as a detective’s.
“There is one thing,” Molly spoke up.
“What?” Jocelyn looked all over the dress to try and find the problem area.
“Can someone get me a mirror so I can see it too?”
