Page 77 of Not Your Basic Love Story

“Is that a lot?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know I always imagined a small ceremony. Now I’m going to be at a wedding with five hundred guests and know about ten of them.”

He nodded. “Well, they won’t be at the wedding, only at the reception. The wedding itself will only be close family and friends. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know a lot of them, either. It’s kind of a thing; we invite pretty much everyone we know. My grandparents have been part of this community from the beginning, so they know a lot of people.”

“I can’t afford anything close to this. You know that. Between my rent and my student loans, I barely have enough to cover my monthly expenses. My parents are retired, and I sure as hell am not going to ask my brother for money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shake of his head. “My family has had money set aside for a wedding since the day I was born. And it’s going to be comparatively small and tame compared to other weddings I’ve gone to. Don’t worry, I’m making sure they don’t go overboard.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Is there anything else troubling you?”

I sighed. “Just the fact you’re not here right now.”

His eyes twinkled. “Only another month or so till I’m there all the time.”

I didn’t tell him it was exactly forty-two days.

“Have you gotten a dress for the engagement party?”

I groaned. “No. Dress shopping is the worst. I hate trying on clothes and being judged by everyone. And no-one can agree on anything.”

“Why don’t you go by yourself? Get something that makes you feel good. I’ll e-transfer you however much it costs. I want you to feel as beautiful as you look to me.”

###

As Dev had suggested, I decided to bite the bullet and go by myself. Instead of going to those fancy-pants dress stores with their overwhelming variety of options, I’d found a few vintage shops downtown that carried second-hand dresses.

The first place I walked into was small, cramped, and dingey. It had a smell somewhere between mothballs and old bookstore. The lady who worked there was tiny, hunched, and had glasses so thick it made her pupils look like she was high on ecstasy. Thankfully, she was very sweet and knowledgeable.

“Oh goodness, a dress forthisweekend? Why so last minute, dear?” she’d asked, perusing the racks for something close to my size.

I began trying to formulate a response, but she interrupted me with a tut.

“None of my business, dear. We will find something to make you feel like a princess, for sure! What style do you like?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I moved between the hangers and tried to imagine what I wanted. “Maybe something with lace? Something kind of vintage-looking, but not too old-fashioned. You know?”

“Vintage, my dear, is what we do. Ah, this one.” She pulled it out, the dress a little crumpled and deflated as it hung, but it showed promise. Lace along the arms and neck descended down the bodice in a floral pattern, the bottom trailing the ground. “This one here belonged to a lady named Margaret. Her husband passed, God rest his soul, and she decided to donate her dress. They’d lived happily together for over forty years before his passing, and she hoped their good luck would pass on through the dress. She’d not had any daughters of her own, you see.”

My fingers felt the lace, a glowing sensation rising in my chest at the story. “Do you remember every dress you take in?”

She winked through her thick glasses. “Only the special ones.”

Behind a dusty velvet curtain, I stripped down and pulled on the dress as best I could. The lady appeared several moments later and helped me do up the back, the length of satin buttons and loops beginning above my bum and rising up to my neck. I ran my hands down the material, smoothing it out. It fit. I didn’t even have to look in the mirror. I just knew. It was as if I could feel the lifetime of happiness the dress symbolized, the years of sipping tea on the couch, of watching children race down the hall naked after a bath, of cozy nights tucked up in bed together with soft, slow lovemaking that only came with years of commitment and comfort in one another.

I bought the dress on the spot and walked out into the rare Vancouver sunshine. I couldn’t wait for Dev to see me in it! I wasn’t even going to show my mom or Miranda or anyone. They’d all have to be surprised.

The dress made me feel as if it was all meant to be. I’d been in the right place, at the right time, and with the right person to help me. It was going to be fine. And tomorrow, when I put it on and Dev saw me, and I saw him in his suit, and we had pictures with the blueberry fields and mountains in the background, it would be perfect. We could both have exactly what we wanted and live happily ever after.

The next day, I was less confident.

I’d gotten ready all by myself in my apartment, the ritual comforting. The only thing I hadn’t been able to do was all the buttons up the back, but I’d get someone to help me once I got there. My hair and makeup were done to the best of my ability; agonized over, yet somehow still looking like it did pretty much every other day. I wished I’d hired a professional to get me ready instead of trying to be a DIY bride. Even Nicole would have been a better option. It didn’t matter, though. This was only the engagement party, not a real wedding. The pictures would just be for me. This event was really about our families meeting and getting to know one another.

Mom and Dad were picking me up on their way to Dev’s place and texted their arrival. Despite the gorgeous summer weather, I wrapped myself up in my tan trench coat to cover my dress. I got downstairs, stepped outside, and stopped dead in my tracks. Standing beside the car was not only my mom and dad, but my brother.

“Kyle!” I shouted, startled, nearly dropping my things.

---