Page 71 of What Happens in Amsterdam

“How about your parents?” Anneke asks. “Have you talked to them more about our little celebration?”

“Oh—it’s just so expensive,” I manage, feeling like an idiot not to have anticipated this question. Obviously it would strike them as bizarre that my family wouldn’t want to see me get married, even if on paper, I already am. “They wanted to. Really wanted to. They just…couldn’t figure out a way to make it work. But my sister will be here! She and her wife found some cheap tickets.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. We’ll find plenty of ways to make it special, yes?”

I blow out a shaky breath. It occurs to me that despite all the stress of the pipe and Anneke’s surprise visit, I haven’t felt the need to count my breaths today. The anxiety isn’t overwhelming. “Just the fact that all of you will be there—that’s all we really want.”

Then she gives me her most genuine grin yet. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear?”

—

I turn in front ofthe mirror, trying to see the back of the gown.

“I love that cut on you,” Roos says from a plush couch in front of the dressing room.

Next to her, Iulia nods. “Kind of a vintage vibe.”

“And we’re all just ignoring the giant bow on my ass?”

Roos laughs. “I think it’s cute!”

“Like your ass is a present,” Iulia puts in.

I let out a groan, twisting to catch the zipper. “This is a no.”

I tried to put off shopping for my not–wedding dress as long as I could, but I was no match for Roos’s enthusiasm. If I were in LA, I’d probably have come here with a gaggle of bridesmaids, pressured to return the favor for the women whose weddings I’d been in. Even if it’s been a while since I could call them friends.

So I take photos to send to Phoebe, because I’m not sure I can get fake-married in a dress my sister doesn’t love.

Roos leaps up to help me with the zipper while Iulia waits nearby with the hanger.

“It’s a bit anticlimactic, isn’t it?” I say as I step out of a mess of chiffon and satin. “Since we’re already married?”

“Maybe a teeny bit.” Roos holds up her thumb and forefinger. “But how many times in your life do you get to shop for a wedding dress?”

I have to speak through partially gritted teeth. “Hopefully just once.”

One thing I didn’t realize is that this friendship with Roos, just like my marriage, has an expiration date. I have a feeling most people don’t remain close with their exes’ siblings, even if the marriage was fake. However close we get—that all ends the moment we sign the divorce papers.

It doesn’t even end with Roos. Iulia, too—my guilt over the number of people we’re fooling continues to climb.

As I sort through the rack of dresses, I catch Roos and Iulia laughing as they try on increasingly ridiculous veils. Iulia bats her lashes at Roos, dramatically attempting to cast off a long veil before her hair gets tangled and Roos reaches forward to help. I take longer than I should to put on the next dress, not wanting to interrupt them.

“That color completely washes you out,” Roos says when I reappear in a ghostly white. “I like that silhouette, though. I think I saw it in a couple other colors—let me go grab them.”

While Roos heads to the front of the store, I turn to Iulia. This is the first time she and I have been semi-alone since the boat tour.

“Iulia,” I start. “I feel like I might need to explain some things—”

But she holds up a hand, gives me a swift shake of her head. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t know? Because…I really like Roos. And you, obviously. I don’t want to have to lie to her.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “And I don’t want to put you in that position. I swear.”

She must be able to tell how awkward this makes me feel, because she jumps to her feet and wraps me in a quick hug. “Hey. It’s okay. No judgment from me, I promise.”

“God, you’re almost being too nice to me.”

I mean it as a joke, but Iulia takes it seriously. “I know expat life isn’t always easy,” she says in her matter-of-fact way. “There were a few people who helped me out when I first got here, so I just…wanted to pass that along.”

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