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“It feels like I’ve been waiting for this day forever, and now, it’s three weeks away,” Ansley says as her mother passes out the boxes holding our bridesmaid dresses.
Our last fitting was just before Thanksgiving, and the boutique finished the final alterations this past weekend.
Sara-Beth, Erin, Taeli, and I closed the Rocky Pass office early yesterday and made the four-hour drive out to Nashville to pick them up, along with Ansley’s handmade wedding gown, a gorgeous custom piece designed for her with the silk from the dress her mother had worn the day her parents were married.
“Come on. Let’s try these babies on one last time,” Erin says as she stands and pulls her sweater over her head.
“Erin, people can see in here,” I cry.
She turns to see the blinds are still open and shrugs. “The parking lot is empty. Besides, if a man wanders by who’s never seen a girl in a bra before, he can thank me later.”
I hurry to the front of the store and quickly pull the blinds closed. “Children are walking around, looking at the valley Christmas lights with their families,” I hiss.
“Oops,” she mutters.
Once the windows are covered, we all undress and step into the gorgeous, sleeveless, candy-cane-red-hued chiffon cowl-neck frocks.
They hug our hips and have a pleated slit on the left that comes up to our mid-thigh.
“Ansley, don’t you want to try on yours?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to risk ripping it or spilling anything on it,” she says.
She’s been a nervous wreck since she and Garrett signed a deal to allowCountry Todayexclusive access to the wedding.
Garrett and his team felt that it was for the best. They announced the deal months ahead of the wedding in hopes that overzealous paparazzi wouldn’t go out of their way to crash the nuptials, expecting a big payday from gossip magazines vying to scoop each other. They picked the outlet for the publication of the first photos of their big day, and all the proceeds made from the large contract will be donated to St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.
It is brilliant, but I hate seeing Ansley fret over everything being perfect.
I march over to the stool her gown is perched on, pick it up, and unzip the bag.
“What are you doing?” Ansley asks.
“Helping you into your gown,” I say.
“I don’t want to—”
I cut her off, “Yes, you do. You’re letting that magazine story steal your joy, and I won’t have it. Now, strip,” I demand.
She sighs.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Fine, but everyone set their wineglasses behind the counter,” she huffs and kicks her loafers off.
They all gather the crystal and do as instructed, and I wait patiently as she strips down to her undies. Then, her mother and Sara-Beth help her step into the gown.
It fits her perfectly.
She twirls, and the skirt of the whimsical silk ball gown with a Chantilly lace bodice and delicate frosted beading flares, exposing the layers of tulle underneath.
“Oh, Ansley, it’s exquisite,” Anna bellows.
“Absolutely stunning,” Isley agrees.
“It has a detachable train so I don’t have to change in order to dance at the reception,” she says.
“You look like a freaking princess,” I praise.
