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And then I remember that my dress is completely open in the back, and I’m spilling out of it like a burst sausage. I swallow back a fresh wave of nausea, but bile still coats the back of my mouth. I push myself up, pressing my back into what’s left of the curtain dressing room.
Zeke helps her, and the other girls trickle out, looking cute and stylish and completely clothed. They take their turns introducing themselves to Zeke.
“You okay, Faye?” Liza asks with a feigned sympathetic smile.
“Yeah, just give me a minute.” I duck behind the curtain and wiggle out of the dress, trying not to rip it. I bite my bottom lip to keep the tears from falling and get dressed. I grab my jacket as well and hold it in front of me, as if it will shield me.
When I walk back out, June has her color back and is laughing with my sister while Zeke talks to Liza, who is currently feeling up his bicep. I hesitate, watching them for a moment longer. They look good together. She looks like his type. Like every other woman he’s ever been with.
“Hey,” Zeke says, breaking away from the group. He kisses my cheek. It feels very friendly. “You okay?”
I nod, but the frown in his eyes tells me he sees through my bullshit.
“I wish you would have just told us you wouldn’t fit into the dress we picked,” Liza says sweetly. “We would have been happy to choose a different one.”
I look down and force a smile.
“I didn’t realize—”
“I sent you that sizing chart and everything,” Liza says.
It’s not true. But it’s not worth upsetting Edie. What’s done is done.
“What do you want to do?” Edie asks me, as if it’s my choice. It’s her wedding. It’s not my call.
I swallow hard. I can’t lose that much weight in four days.
And I hate that that’s the first place my mind goes. Zeke presses his hand into the small of my back, but I recoil. It’s too soon for him to touch me there, not with the way my back was so recently spilling out of the ill-fitting dress.
“Well, maybe I’m just a dumb man,” Zeke says with an aw-shucks smirk, and the girls giggle. “But it seems we’re standing in the middle of a shop full of beautiful dresses. Surely we can find something that works?”
“But not something that matches,” Liza says, her voice full of sympathy.
“I was in a wedding last year where the maid of honor wore a different dress,” Gwen volunteers.
I offer her a grateful smile.
“I was in one this summer—Julie Denton’s?—and we all wore different dresses.”
“It’s a very common thing to do. Give a special member of the bridal party a little spotlight,” June says with a twinkle in her eye.
Edie’s face lights up and she smiles.
“But that’s not what we’ve gone with,” Liza says, placing a soft hand on Edie’s shoulder. “I mean, forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn. But I know you have a vision for this wedding, and I don’t want to stray from that.”
Edie chews on her bottom lip and looks from Liza’s hand to the floor. She crosses to my side, linking her arm with mine.
“My sister is in the wedding. She needs a dress. Let’s find her one.”
“But aren’t they all sample size?” Liza’s voice is sharper and the other girls look slightly embarrassed. “I mean, we’re just going to run into the same problem.”
“I have a back room,” June says, clucking her tongue at Liza and nodding at another curtain I hadn’t noticed before.
The girls jump up and Edie snakes her arm through mine.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
We start to follow June through the curtains but Liza stops us.
