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She laughs and takes a deep, cleansing breath. “You’re right. I’ll keep it together,” she promises. “And I know you’re going to knock this out of the park. All puns intended.”
We all laugh and it feels good. I needed this—something new to focus on, a distraction from my crazy life. It’s perfect.
“The only thing I want to make sure of,” Sophie adds, “is that Molly and Ryan feel like a part of the day. I want them to know this is not just about me and Owen becoming husband and wife, but about the four of us becoming a family.”
Everly’s expression is soft as she nods. “Don’t worry about anything,” she says, gathering her binders and checklists and placing them in her leather bag. “I’ll make sure they have the perfect day too. I’m thrilled to get the chance to work with you. CeCe hasn’t stopped gushing about you since she called.”
“Well, you’re a goddess,” Sophie gushes with a laugh. “I mean, quite literally. And I can’t thank you enough for everything.”
“No need to thank me, yet,” Everly says with a wink. “I’d love nothing more than to sit here all night and talk about weddings and drink coffee, but I have a meeting in twenty minutes I can’t be late for, so unfortunately, I have to run.”
Once we’ve said our goodbyes, Sophie and I head out to the dress shop.
“I’m guessing we’re not just looking for a dress for me,” I say, looping my arm through hers. “This is a multi-tasking mission as well.”
Sophie bites down on her lip. “I just wanted to surprise you a little and Everly called last minute to say she could squeeze in a planning session, so I jumped on it. Then I thought, the first place I wanted to look for a dress was Agatha's. I mean, it’s where we bought all of our formals during school and college. If I could find my wedding dress here, it would feel very full circle.”
We walk for a few minutes, making our way around the corner. The city is busy this time of evening, but not overly so, and I can’t help but glance back down the street, always looking over my shoulder.
There’s nothing or no one out of the ordinary, so I turn back around and think of something else to focus on.
“Have you told your parents?” I ask. Thankfully for Sophie, her relationship with her family is a lot less strained than mine. It doesn’t mean her parents fully approve of Owen or the way Sophie is living her life, but she doesn’t let them push her around, and unlike my parents, they haven’t cut her out of their lives.
Her brothers and sister would never allow it.
That’s the perks of having siblings. When your parents are assholes, you still have someone on your side. In the Callahan family it’s six-to-two. So even when Kitty and Warner pull their shit, they can’t take on all of them, which gives Sophie a reprieve from time-to-time.
“I called them,” Sophie says, eyes straight ahead.
“And…” I prod, not letting her stop at that.
“And they were exactly like you can imagine—cold and delusional.”
Leaning my head on her shoulder, I squeeze her arm. “Sorry.”
“No apologies needed,” she says with a deep sigh. “Honestly, if they had responded any differently, I would’ve been shocked. It’s better to stick with the status quo where they’re concerned.”
Opening the door to Agatha’s, I pause. “Please tell me they didn’t bring up Gavin.”
“Would they be Warner and Kitty Callahan if they didn’t?”
Once inside the store, we’re treated like family. Agatha herself is an eighty-year-old woman who still works circles around her help who are in their mid-thirties. She’s brilliant with a needle and thread and has come through for Sophie and me too many times to count over the years.
“What can I do for you, dears?” she asks, taking one of my hands and one of Sophie’s into her soft, papery ones. “What’s the occasion?”
Knowing Sophie’s mission is much more important than mine, I start with, “Sophie is getting married.”
The sweet little old lady’s face lights up brighter than the Fourth of July. “Oh, congratulations. Oh, my, I remember when you were just a wee girl. Your mother used to bring you in for every special occasion. You and sweet Eleanor.”
Sophie and I both choke back a cough.
No one ever calls Eleanor sweet, except for Agatha.
To everyone else, Sophie’s older sister, Eleanor, is a viper. A man-eater. A ballbuster.
But definitely not sweet.
“Eleanor is… well, Eleanor,” Sophie says diplomatically. “I’m sure you’ll see her soon when the word gets around that I’m getting married.”
