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“I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” Peyton said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Fashion is my specialty. Honestly, watching all the designers fall over themselves to get me what I wanted was pure entertainment in itself,” she said with a grin. “Now, where is the champagne?”
I popped open the bubbly and passed out drinks. We sipped from a rosé Moët & Chandon while Peyton worked her way into the dresses. I helped with buttons and zippers and clasps. There were so many of them on each and every dress.
Despite Katherine’s assurances that they were all to Peyton’s measurements, they didn’t all fit. One dress was all smooth edges, except for a pooch at the waist. One fit her waist, but the lace at the underarms was strangely long. One was just an inch too long, even in her wedding heels.
Katherine hissed at that and offered to shred the designer a new one. Height wasn’t going to change regardless.
Peyton laughed it all off. “There’s going to be the perfect one in here. Don’t worry about it.”
As someone who had spent most of her life being fitted for tutus of every style and variety, Peyton was having the time of her life. Trying on all of these dresses made her smile and preen and twirl. As if each one were a new costume she was putting on for a performance.
Finally, we fitted her into one. I finished buttoning up the dozen buttons on the back, and then I stepped aside. She stood before the full-length mirror with an awed expression before facing us.
Katherine clapped softly. “That’s it. That’s the one.”
“I love it,” I gasped.
Peyton covered her mouth as tears came to her eyes. “It’s perfect.”
It was even better than the one that had been made for her. The one at the bottom of a fiery grave. Somehow, this fit her lithe ballet figure to perfection. The bust was all lace in an almost balconette structure with visible boning that gave the top a corseted look. An airy tulle skirt reminiscent of all the past ballets Peyton had danced in fell to the floor with an embroidered floral design starting at the top and tapering off. The entire thing shimmered slightly when it caught the light. And to her delight, it had two of her favorite things—a hidden slit to reveal her baby-blue heels and, best of all, pockets.
“Who designed this?” Peyton asked. “I must write to the designer to thank them.”
“Of all people, Harmony Cunningham,” Katherine said, standing and fingering the skirt. “Her mother handed over most of the reins to Cunningham Couture to her, and it is blooming. Who knew that taking the girl out of the spotlight would revitalize the brand?”
“I used to always want to wear Elizabeth Cunningham’s vision,” Peyton admitted.
“She designed my wedding dress,” Katherine said. “Well, that’s the one. I’ll tell Harmony. She’ll be pleased. You’ll probably even have your wedding in magazines.”
Peyton laughed. “That was already going to happen. Ex-prima and her new beau.” She rolled her eyes. “Magazines have been hounding me for the last year.”
“And in that dress, you’ll be the highlight of the season.”
“Thank you, Katherine,” Peyton said, drawing her into a hug. She turned to me next. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“You were right,” I told her. “Now, let’s get you married.”
“I’ll say, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ ” the pastor said.
“Then we kiss,” Isaac said with a wink.
Peyton flushed.
The pastor laughed. “Exactly,” he said.
I stood off to the side of Peyton, holding her fake bouquet during the rehearsal. Peter was on my other side. Jordan and Annie stood for Isaac across from me and my brother. I liked that they’d gone nontraditional and had their people on either side rather than separating guys and girls. At the end, Jordan and Annie would walk down the aisle together, a precursor to their impending wedding. And I’d walk with my twin. It was going to be perfect.
“And that’s that,” the pastor said. He gestured to Nora. “All yours.”
Nora nodded solemnly. She was back in her heels, trying so hard to regain the bounce in her step. But she didn’t quite manage it. She was professional but not enthusiastic.
“Excellent. Let’s do the walk out. Each aisle will go one at a time, starting with Peyton’s family and then Isaac’s,” Nora said, directing everyone. “Afterward, we’ll take family pictures. While that is going on, we’ll move everyone inside to the barn. Any questions?”
The parents all crowded around poor Nora. Isaac and Peyton were speaking with the pastor about the wording and such. I stood with my brother, Jordan, and Annie.
“It’s hot as hell,” Peter grumbled.
“Supposed to be worse tomorrow,” I told him.
“Great.”
Annie laughed. “This isn’t even a bad May day.”
Jordan shook his head. “At least you aren’t in a three-piece suit.”
“Exactly,” Peter added.
Annie and I exchanged a conspiratorial smile. We’d gotten lucky. Peyton didn’t care one lick about what we were wearing as long as it was in the champagne, rose gold, or blush family. We’d gone shopping together this winter and picked something out that didn’t cost either of us a fortune and ended up with these gorgeous, shimmery dresses. They weren’t exactly the same, as we were different builds, but they complemented each other. In fact, they worked out even better with Peyton’s new dress. I couldn’t wait to see the entire vision come to life.
