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“It is. See you soon.”
Brianna halts in front of me with a big smile. My eyes leave her face and eye the two flutes in her hands. I let out a giggle and hop up. Yes. She found the champagne. One of the reasons we had checked off this spot was the assurance of champagne-assisted dress shopping. What could be better than liquid bubbles while feeling all bubbly inside?
Our glasses clink. “Congrats, Lauren, I’m so excited for you.”
My chest tightens. “Aww, thank you, Bri.” We reach in for a hug and a bit of champagne sloshes out of the glass. I gasp.
Whoosh, nothing on the dresses.
A throat clearing breaks my wave of relief. “Excuse me.”
“Lauren, this is Mariska. She is going to be your assistant today.” Brianna nods and takes a sip of her champagne.
“Hi.” I glance at Brianna. I thought she had wanted to be my one and only assistant. Ha! She has been making several comments, fishing for details about when I was going to ask someone to be my maid or matron of honor. I don’t want to deal with this issue yet. My shoulders slump and my stomach rips into shreds thinking about choosing between my best friend, Brianna, who I have known since freshman year of college, and my one and only sister, Megan, who asked me to be her maid of honor.
Megan is also forcing the question and has brought up the fact that she is probably more organized than Brianna (though I’m not sure this is actually true as Brianna is a very organized and successful real estate guru). But she did point out that Brianna has never planned a wedding, whereas Megan has so she has that on her, but then again Megan asked me to be her maid of honor and I had no wedding planning experience either, so we are back at square one. I know I can’t do the whole “I have a matron and a maid of honor” because neither one of them would go for that, nor do I really want to do it. I need to choose. But who? They both mean so much to me and in such different ways.
I take a sip of the perfect celebration solution. The bubbles from the champagne pop around inside my mouth and slide down my throat. That definitely wakes me up. Mmm, this is tasty. I’m ready to find my dress.
“So vat kind of dress are you wanting? Mermaid? Sweetheart? Princess?” Mariska is staring at me like she has me figured out before I tell her.
“I’m not sure. We’ve got this stack here to begin with.” I nod in the direction of the pile of dresses.
“Okay, I see.” Mariska lifts the dresses off the chair as if I’ve laid them on pile of dirt and marches towards a dressing room.
“So who was that on the phone? Megan?” Brianna tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“No, it was Jack.” My cheeks heat. I almost want to skip this whole dress-shopping event and just be with him. Except, I’m on a mission. A mission from Venus… I am woman, hear me roar and see me find the perfect dress. I laugh. Despite my confidence, I am a bit worried that I won’t find the right one. Or worse—that I’ll pick the wrong shade of white and I’ll look horrible in all my wedding photos and everyone will say, “Such a lovely wedding…what happened with your photographer? They didn’t seem to catch you in the right lighting.” But everyone else will look great because they are in the right shade for their skin tone. I shudder.
“Hey, are you okay? You’re not freaking about this, are you?”
“No.” I glance to the side and then back to Brianna. “Maybe a little. I don’t want to pick the wrong dress.”
“Ah hello, who are you with? Do you think I would let you be in anything other than the perfect wedding dress?” She shakes her head as if she is able to shake off all of my worries.
“I know. But there are so many dresses.” My eyes strain as I gaze at the rows.
“Hey, it’s okay. Mariska is a gold star employee per her badge.” Brianna winks at me. “And besides, you don’t have to decide on your dress today. This is just the first trial run.”
I nod. Trial run… I don’t like the sound of that when picturing my wedding in any regards.
“Follow me.” Mariska is motioning with her hand for me to follow her down the corridor of fitting rooms to begin the first round of me and wedding dresses. I’m worried. I’ve never tried on a wedding dress before. I guess this is a good thing. But I’m nervous. What if I look horrible in all shades of white? Or what if I pick a dress that is horrible for my figure? I swallow hard and enter the dressing room.
“Okay, go ahead and undress.”
My eyes bulge. I glance at the door to give Mariska her cue to give me privacy. She doesn’t move.
“Um, I think I can handle the first round on my own.”
“This is your first time, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You cannot put on a wedding dress on your own. You need help getting it on and taking it off. This is the purpose of the wedding dress. It is a partnership.” She nods at me to begin removing my clothes. I take off my jeans and my blouse. Mariska has her back turned to me as she unfastens the first dress from the hanger and prepares it on her arms to bring over my head.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” I hide my laughter at her using Jack’s favorite word. He has been using “ready” to progressively move our relationship forward and here I am in a bridal shop and it’s the one word the consultant is asking me.
The white chiffon mixed with a pearly brocade slides over my head. I stick my hands in through the armholes and Mariska buttons up the back. I stare at myself in the mirror. I look so different in this dress. Like a bride.
I’m going to be a bride. My chest splinters into a zillion different emotions.
“How do you feel?” Mariska cocks her head to the right and inspects my face.
“I’m, like, exploding with emotions. I don’t even know which one to go with.”
“Yes, you do. It’s all right here.” She touches my chest over my heart. “And here.” With her other hand she taps my forehead. “Make the two merge.” She nods.
“I want to. I’m just nervous.” I bite my lip.
“Everyone is nervous. You love him, yes?”
“Yes,” I say faster than would seem possible. There is no doubt about my love. I love Jack. I do want to marry him. I’m just nervous about everything that comes along with a marriage including the preceding events: the wedding and the planning. I want it all to be perfect. I don’t want to fail just as our new lives together are joining.
“Then you are going to be fine. Come, let’s show your friend.” Mariska opens the door and Brianna is on her phone in one hand, the champagne flute in her other. She turns around and our eyes meet. Her jaw drops open and she tosses her phone in her purse and rushes towards me.
“Lauren, you look gorgeous. Is this the one?” She gasps.
I laugh. “It’s the first one.”
We both laugh again. “But it’s so gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous. How could you even want to try on anything else after this one?” She shakes her hair over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “Are you trying to shirk your duties and only have to partake in one fitting?” I study her face.
“Whoa, wait a minute, my duties? Are you assigning titles?”
I slump my shoulders. “Duties as in my best friend. No I haven’t assigned any titles…yet.”
“Oh, I see. Well no I’m not trying to shirk my best-friend responsibilities. I would never do that. But I do love this dress on you. Let me get a pic.” She digs back in her purse and drags out her cell phone. I’m not huge on photos but this is one moment I do want to preserve. My favorite first wedding dress experience. The first dress I tried on in hopes of finding the perfect dress for my perfect wedding… I laugh. I’m not my sister, Megan… Perfect isn’t exactly an adjective used describe me. But I want it to be. I want this to be right. To be perfect. I want to be perfect for Jack, so that we will be equal. I need him to think and know that I’m bringing as much to the altar as he is. I swallow and smile. I want this pic to look nice, not worrisome like some vintage nineteenth-century forced portrait.
Brianna snaps who knows how many photos of me and the dress. Is it the dress though? I’m seeing only one shade of white. But is this the right shade for me? Will Jack see me in this dress and want to say I do?
My chest tightens. I need to get out of this dress. “Let’s try another one.” I glance at Mariska.
She nods and leads me back to the dressing room. She helps unfasten the dress and lifts it over my head. I suppose she is right. It would be rather difficult to put on and take off a dress of this magnitude alone. I imagine Jack taking off my dress on our wedding night. My stomach tingles. In some ways I do wish we could skip over some things and just get to the marriage part. But I do want to make the special memories and have the pictures to prove they happened. I want to be able to show my children and grandchildren my wedding. Our wedding.
I open the door and peek out at Brianna; her eyes are focused on her phone. She must sense me watching.
“I’m plugging in the dates on my phone. What was it again?” Brianna strides towards me with her phone in hand.
“October twenty-second.” I clear my throat.
“It really is National Nut Day.” Brianna glances up at me. “You can’t be serious.” She tsks.
I roll my eyes. “I am and I like it. It was Jack’s idea.” Finally, after months of pleading for us to set the date, over the Fourth of July under the glow of a million stars and a gorgeous firework display, Jack suggested we get married on National Nut Day. He said he had been going pecans about me since we met the day before Thanksgiving and it only made sense to wed on this date. I happily obliged, as I’m honestly nuts about him as well. Even though it’s been less than a year since we met, it seemed to take forever to set a date. A date? I still don’t understand entirely why Jack was so reluctant to commit to a number. Being engaged was his idea but when it came to me asking about a date he was always so distant and closed off. I shake my head. That’s over. We are on the same page now. He’s not going to keep anything from me anymore. He promised.
Brianna follows me. “Obviously, because he is freaking nuts… This makes no sense. And don’t even think for one second that I will wear brown to resemble a nut for your wedding. I know how your mom is with the theme outfits and I will not participate.” She tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “Got it.” Although, I think it would be hilarious to see what kind of costume my mom could come up with for my bridesmaids, I’m sure it would be nut related. I can imagine the skirts opening up as they walk like a shell and maybe some leaves on their sleeves. I shudder. That is truly a vision that I do not want to become a reality.
After trying on ten different dresses I am ten seconds away from not caring anymore about styles. I decide to call it quits for the day and head home. I’m not sure if the first dress I tried on is the one. It’s very possible. But how do you really know? Is finding a dress kind of like finding a husband? You’re sure but yet there is a small piece of you that wonders if you are making the right decision? Jack is the one for me…but I do worry about whether or not I’m making the right decision. I laugh. That is an absurd thought. This is the best decision of my life. Saying yes to Jack is one hundred percent solid; it’s in no way, no how a bad idea. Everything about him is amazing. He makes me laugh. He makes me swoon and he makes me scream for the right reasons. My insides squeeze together. It’s like my heart is going to burst open at the idea of Jack. He is so sexy. His voice alone sends me over the edge.
Despite all of this a little tiny voice says: Are you sure, Lauren? We haven’t even known each other for a year and he has moved mountains to be with me. And that’s when the other voice pops up and bops that one on the head. Hello. Do we need a sound check? This is love. I would be a fool not to recognize it. And I am no fool. I graduated summa cum laude after all. This does stand for something. Those aren’t just passed out like a ribbon for showing up. They take effort. And I’m a manager of my own team. Again, proof of my abilities. All of this should be a further acknowledgement that when I see something I want, I get it. Like Jack. I’ve got him and he’s got me…for eternity. That’s what we have together. The idea of time and aging with Jack doesn’t freak me out—it warms my heart.
His architecture firm is slowly building here and he hired extra staff to take care of Vintage Estates—his family business back in Texas. It’s how we met. My grandmother has an apartment at Vintage Estates. It’s a nice retirement community in Georgetown. She basically set us up, literally and figuratively. All in the name of pecans. I will never forget the day I was in dire need of an extra two ounces of nuts and Jack came to my rescue.
I take in a deep breath and turn the ignition off in my car. Jack has semi-moved into my townhouse in Baltimore. He has his own house in Texas. He wants us to get a bigger house together once we are married. But I don’t see why we need it at this point. My house is plenty big enough for us. What more could we need when we have each other? We both have our careers and I have a very comfy bed. And—even better—Jack is a part of a wine of the month club so we have an endless supply. Which again begs the question of why we would need anything more than this? Shelter, love, and wine. I’m sure Shakespeare must have said something about that. If not, he should have.
I reach for the doorknob and Jack pulls it open. He never ceases to surprise me. He’s wearing a buttoned-down green plaid shirt and khaki shorts. Jack’s blue eyes light up like a candle that’s being lit for the very first time. He leans in and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in a month. His arms are reaching behind me and pulling me into the house. The door shuts and his hands are running all over my body.
“I hope you found a dress because I don’t want to have another long Saturday without you.” Jack breathes into my ear and my scalp is tingling all over. I meet each of his kisses with my own. My tongue finds his and we engage in a long sensual samba of sensations.
“Is this what you meant about taste buds?” I tug on his lip.
Jack pulls back. “No, but I like your way of thinking.” He guides me to the kitchen where several cakes are sitting on the counters.
I jerk my head back. “I see you’ve been baking?”
“Yes, although I had to do quite a bit of shopping first. The only pan you own is for pies.” Jack chortles. “Was the apple pie the only thing you’ve ever baked here?”
I blink my eyelashes, realization hitting me. Shiat. He has found my stash!
I don’t bake—despite my grandmother asking me to make our family’s pecan pie over Thanksgiving in Texas and then over the summer insisting I enter an apple pie contest. But that sums up my baking experience. Well, I did make Jack a special red velvet cake over Christmas too, but that was in his house and I borrowed my mom’s baking dishes.
I swallow hard and stride to the oven. It’s empty. Of course it is. It would have to be if Jack had been baking. I turn around and meet his cool blues.
“Are you looking for these?” Jack holds up one of my snow globes. My eyes practically fall from my head. I want to dive into the globe and let the gelatinous water and snowflakes cover me, completely buried, hidden from this moment.
I twist my lips from side to side, trying to find something to say. Anything. Obviously he knows the forty something snow globes are mine. But how to explain them and why they are in my oven? I let out a deep breath.
Jack shakes the little globe and inspects the label. “Rome.” He nods. “Interesting, but I’m not sure when Rome has seen any snow?” He laughs.
I let out a small laugh, not because I think what he’s said is funny—maybe in another moment but not this one. The tiny giggle is my attempt at breathing. I’m more embarrassed than I could ever be in front of him.
Jack leans back and grabs another one. “Ah, now see the snow makes sense in this one: Innsbruck!” He places it back down and gestures to the globes. “Have you been to all of these places?”
I swallow. “Some of them.”
Jack’s eyebrows furrow. “Were the others gifts to you from other people’s trips?”
My lips flatline. Beep beep beeeeeeeeep. The flame against my cheeks is so hot, it’s like I’m at an erupting volcano and no one warned me. Instead I’m stuck, sinking like I’m in quicksand, not knowing how to explain this.
“No.”
Jack raises an eyebrow at me. “No?”
“No.” I shake my head as if it’s added confirmation of what I’m saying.
“Then why do you have them?”
My shoulders lift up past my ears, as if they want to sprout wings and flap me out of this kitchen and this horribly embarrassing moment.
I let out a deep breath. “I buy them at yard sales and eBay… It’s just a collection.” I shrug my shoulders. There, I said it. No big deal. I’m sure we can move on from this moment.
“You buy snow globes of places you haven’t been yet and store them in your oven?” Jack runs his hand through his hair.
Damn. Now I seem like a crazy cat lady or something.
“I didn’t want them collecting dust all over my place. And since I don’t use the oven that much it seemed like a good spot. When I’m feeling down I peek at them in the oven and see all the possibilities.” I swallow. No one knows about my snow globes. No one. Not even Brianna. This is my secret that Jack now knows. I’m a ball of emotions and my insecurities are about to roll onto the floor and say, “Yes, I’m weird… Am I too weird for you?”
Jack smiles, pulls me into his arms and kisses my head. “I love you.”
My head tingles and a little rush of warmth flows down my neck and over my shoulders, making its way to my heart. He doesn’t care about my wacky collection. Can this be true? God, I love this man. He is so much more than I could have ever dreamed up in my mind. And my mind is a vast place full of all sorts of wild ideas and images. But Jack isn’t an image. He’s real. He’s going to be my husband. Wow. I take a step back and grip the counter. I don’t want to faint in the kitchen with the mere concept of how great Jack is. Especially given he is standing in front of me.
Jack flashes me a full-teeth grin. “Now that we’ve gotten your secret collection out of the way, which one do you want to try first? Let me guess—the fresh strawberries and sponge cake?”
I flutter my eyelashes. I’m not sure. “How about the white cake with raspberry crème and a drizzle from the red dish…mmm…oh and maybe a few drops of the chocolate fudge?”
Jack nods. “Good, start off simple.”
I roll my eyes while he cuts a slice of the white cake and covers it with the raspberry frosting, red glaze, and then drizzles the chocolate over the top in a zigzag motion. He takes a piece with a fork and offers it to me. The cake is fluffy and sweet and incredibly delicious. I want to say yes, this is the cake, but like the dress there are several more options to choose from on the counter and I can’t immediately fall in love with this one…or can I?
And I don’t want to end this sampling moment. Just like the dresses, which were fun to try on. So many possibilities. So many choices. I don’t want to peak too soon on the cake. It’s got to rise slowly and have the exact amount of bounce to it when it comes out of the oven. The cake is like the dress, each one has to be made with the right ingredients or fabric, sewn together with precision or mixed with care and then finalized in the oven or over me. Yes. I want to take my time with each one. I’ve got to find the perfect dress and cake. This is important. Just like Jack—he is so important. I owe it to both of us to be patient.
“Well?”
“It’s really good.” I take another bite. “Like it’s so good I almost don’t even want to try the others.” I let out a small laugh. “Is that bad?”
“No, it’s not bad. It shows you know what you want and you aren’t indecisive. I love it. And everything else about you. But since we have all this cake I think we need to eat it…yes?” Jack cocks his head to the right.
“Yes, I think it’s important for us to keep going and taste all of them. But there is no way I can eat all of that cake. Let me just sample each of them or I won’t be able to fit into any wedding dress, period.” I eye the cake and already feel the pounds attaching to my hips. “That’s enough to feed, like, ten pregnant women.”
“More reason to eat up. Once you’re pregnant you might lose your appetite for cake. Enjoy it now.” Jack wiggles his eyebrows at me while he takes another bite.
“Well that will not be happening anytime soon, so I’ve got plenty of time to enjoy cake.” I pop another piece in my mouth and melt at how good it is. I’m in heaven until I see Jack’s frown. “What?”
“When you say ‘not anytime soon’, what does that mean?” He sounds a little hurt almost.
