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Chapter 20
Camilla
When Abigail told methe wedding was pushed to next week, my mind went haywire. There were so many things we needed to get done before then. She didn’t exactly give me a lot of time.
Abigail dreamed of the perfect wedding since she was eight. Her mom helped her make a binder at ten of all the things she wanted at her wedding someday. The binder was tucked under my arm as we walked into the wedding dress boutique.
We used to rush home after school to watch Say Yes to the Dress, and imagine ourselves wearing the beautiful princess ball gowns. It was Abigail’s turn to find the dress for her wedding. It was the day she got to feel like a princess and marry the man that loved her unconditionally.
“Welcome to La Vi. Which one of you is the lucky bride?”
I pointed to her, but it was obvious. “The smile of hers is contagious so watch out.”
“So, what do you have in mind? Any specific cut? Price Point?”
Our eyes grew wide at the selection in the window.
“I want that one.” She pointed at a trumpet style ball gown.
“Let’s go get it on you, princess.” The saleswoman said.
When she walked out, my jaw dropped at the way it fit her shape. It hugged her form nicely.
“How does it feel?”
She twirled around in front of the mirror, smiling. “This is it.”
I was amazed because normally it took time to find the perfect dress but she found hers instantly. The one thing she didn’t look at was the price tag, but I wouldn’t dare ask.
“Alright, let’s get it off you and we can discuss payment.”
Abigail was on cloud nine right now, but it didn’t last long. Once she got to the counter and the stylist told her the price, her face fell.
“I can’t afford that.” Her eyes started to get wet, and she stared at the ground. Her dream dress would not be an option for her.
“If I may interject, how much are you short?” I asked, looking at her. There was no way I was going to let her walk out of this shop without it.
“Two grand.”
She wasn’t going to ask me to help because of her pride, but I was going to do it anyway. “Honey, I’ll cover the rest. This is your dress, and you deserve to have your perfect dress on your big day.”
Her eyes grew wide again, “No way. I’m not going to let you spend your hard earned money on my wedding dress. We’ll figure something out.”
Before she could say anything further, I handed the stylist my credit card. “Run it.” I took her hands in mine, “You have been my best friend for over a decade. It’s the least I can do sweetie.”
She didn’t fight me further on it. Her dream dress was secured.
