What should I wear to the wedding?
A smile curls my lips up. Grace. That’s right. Now I remember.
Last night before my sweetheart left, I put my number in her phone. I wasn’t sure if she’d use it or not, but I told her to.
I huff a small laugh at the text, remembering the night before. She was sweet after a couple more drinks, leaning on me a little more than usual. Asking if I was just messing with her.
If it was a few years ago, I may have thought of her as the clingy type.
Intending on grabbing my keys from my office to get the hell out of here, I lean against my desk and then decide to just fall into the chair as I look at her message again.
Two nights ago, I didn’t have a single problem with her clinging onto me while the guys in the back shooting pool were looking at her. She didn’t even notice them, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to point them out to her. If I’m honest with myself, I would have rather spent last night with her the same as the night before, rather than working.
I’m too tired to think, but I text her back with the first thoughts on my mind.
It’s a small wedding. Nothing too fancy or formal is fine.
It’s been nearly an hour since she messaged me. I sit the phone down, thinking she won’t get back to me for a while, but the phone goes off rapid fire.
Okay, so not a ballgown, got it.
I’ll do something simple...
But classy.
What are you wearing?
The laugh comes up easy, vibrating in my chest. I lean back, and get comfortable in the chair. I’m so damn tired I could lay my head down right here on this hardwood or stack of paper and take a nap.
I text her back: I’m in the wedding, so I have a suit. The groom is the only one in a tux.
Her response makes me laugh even harder.
And you told me I could wear jeans!
With a wide smile on my lips, I respond: Wear whatever you want, sweetheart. I stare at my message for a second, playing with a small tear in my jeans before adding, I’ll be in gray with a dark blue tie.
I can practically hear her voice when she answers: Okay, now I’ve got something to work with.
I grin at her message, debating on what to say back.
Probably nothing, I think as another yawn takes over. I’m too damn tired to keep going at this point. I stretch out and grab my keys, nearly pocketing my phone before it beeps again.
And you're sure you wanna take me?
I knew it. I knew she’d second guess it or think I was just fucking with her.
You backing out of our deal? I hope she can feel my smile when she reads it. I add: We shook on this. That’s as good as a legal notarized document when a handshake happens in my bar.
I don’t even notice Maggie come in until I hear her voice.
“Now, whatever’s got you smiling like that,” she says with her hands on her hips, “that’s what you should be spending your time on.”
I lift my head to look at her, but the second I do, my phone goes off.
I’ll pick out something to match.
Grace
“Oooh, let’s go in here!” Diane says, tugging at my arm and pointing to a shop. “I’ll bet they have exactly what we need.” Ann is back and she decided the three amigos, as she refers to us, should go shopping. She didn’t like the tension between Diane and me.
“Okay,” I say easily, allowing her to pull me inside. I rub my inner elbow where I’ve just been poked and prodded. I had to have lab work done quickly before coming here. I’m hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. At least shopping can take my mind off of this mess. Even if it’s with Diane. Since Ann had to bail to pick up her son.
Seriously, Ann is killing me.
Diane came into work all chipper, like the fight we had Tuesday never happened. I’m sure that’s Ann’s doing and all, but if Diane doesn’t like me, she doesn’t have to hang out with me for Ann’s sake.
Other than my small hesitation, I was happy to let it go and move on, because I had so much on my mind. Namely, dress shopping and filling Ann in on the details.
Now that she’s gone, I’m just going to make the best of it. And honestly, Diane has been the version of herself that I actually do get along with. So… nothing but good vibes and positivity.
So after listening to Diane dish about all of her dating shenanigans, I admitted to her that I had agreed to go to a wedding with Charlie as a favor.
Diane actually squealed, which made me smile, then gushed about how she was going to the wedding as well. Apparently, some distant cousin of Charlie's or another relative was her new fling.
That conversation led us here, to what the sign proudly announces to be Dynamite Dolls. A quick look at the windows shows that the shop caters to '50s pinup designs, with two mannequins dressed to the nines in plaid pleated dresses that have a touch of class. I think it’s the fit on them that does it. The pinched in waist and lines that hug the curves.
My simple, black work heels click on the shiny floor inside; the shop is obviously very nice – cue the word ‘expensive’, with fashionable dresses on racks on both sides as we walk in. In front of us is a wraparound counter, with two fully decked-out sales associates behind it. One of them is wearing a pair of earrings that I die for. Gold bumblebees dangle just beneath her ear.
An extremely petite blonde and a tall, plus-sized redhead behind the counter turn as we walk in, the one with the earrings, obviously stopping mid-conversation.
“Welcome!” the two say in unison with perfect smiles.
The blonde rushes out to the sales floor, beaming. It seems that we’re the only customers in the store, which is fine by me. I’ve never heard of this place but the vibe is very much my style.
I don’t shop much at all in this part of the city. It’s a bit out of my price range, usually. Given that this dress is for a wedding, obviously, I need to get something nice. Something to make Charlie swoon. It’s a treat to myself, too. Because, why not?
“I’m Tessa. Are y'all looking for anything in particular?” the blonde asks. The rack of dresses made of black crepe catches my eye just as Tessa question us.
“Actually, we’re both going to a wedding,” Diane answers her and I stay mum, looking around. “So we need something classy…”
My fingers trail along the beautiful fabric; it’s luxurious. As soon as I get to the price tag and turn it over, I can’t help that my eyes widen, but at least the gasp is silent. Holy crap. Six hundred dollars for one dress? What the hell kind of place did Diane bring me to?
Blinking rapidly and trying not to show that I’m freaking out I know damn well I cannot afford this place, not in the least.
Of course, Diane has no idea that I’m stressed about money. Well, that is, I’m looking forward to being stressed about money.
Today at work, I Googled how much it costs to find a sperm donor and what the process is like. Then I nearly had a panic attack, because just the sperm can be hundreds of dollars. I remembered what my doctor said about IVF treatments… the cost of those can be thousands of dollars.
It took me a full three minutes of deep breathing to calm down from that one. I had no idea that going the donor route could be so expensive. I wasn’t prepared for that, but I guess I’m going to have to face it. And the longer I wait, the more and more likely it will be that IVF is the only route left.