Page 25 of Matrimonial Merger

“And can we get your name?” The older consultant behind the desk asked.

“Daphne Carlisle-Delphine,” Mum answered.

The older woman did a double-take, then turned back to the tablet in her hand, but then went back to pure professional customer service, “Are you looking for something more understated? Simple?”

“Chic,” I answered. “Sophisticated. I had a big ballgown for my first wedding. I want nothing like that this time. I want to focus on feeling beautiful and marrying the man I love. That’s all.”

She demanded, “Can you pull Geneva, Pippa? I would add Adelaide and Louisa into the mix, too.”

I assumed these were the names of the dresses they saw me fitting into. As much as I wanted to be excited and happy, I just couldn’t be. I knew that if a dress fit today, it wouldn’t fit in six months. In the consult room, champagne emerged—something I couldn’t partake in. I listened to my mother explain her own wedding dress to one of the consultants while Pippa zipped meinto the strapless dress I’d dreamt up. The crepe fabric wasn’t fussy like the intricate lace I’d worn to marry chandler. It was sexy in a way I’d never get away with for a UK church wedding. I felt a little like a bridal badass.

As I stood on the pedestal in front of a bank of mirrors, I foughthappytears.

“It’s lovely on you,” Mum said. “But I don’t think any of these dresses will work, ladies. She hasn’t told you but… she is… well…”

Mum couldn’t bring herself to state the obvious. The desire for self-preservation in polite society overruled all else. Here—especially when w were back in the UK—she was Lady Danna first.

“She’s pregnant, Mum. You can say it,” Lanie insisted. “And happy about it. It was a happy thing.”

“A surprise, but yes,” I confirmed.

“Congratulations! When are you due?” Pippa asked cheerfully.

“August,” I answered.

“And they are getting married in June,” Mum said. “So this… it will not fit by then. We should find something… more suitable, I think.”

“That’s fine,” Pippa chirped, noting my sad expression. “We will find something we could alter appropriately.”

I was pulled out of the dress I’d fallen for and thrown into three beautiful dresses that they could make work—dresses I felt were anythingbutsexy, edgy, or sophisticated. They were traditional, stuffy, and princess-y. They weren’t me.

“That is gorgeous,” Mum gasped as I stood there in a beautiful white silk ballgown with an empire waist, long lace sleeves, and a high collar.

“It’s too much like her other dress. God, Mum!” Delanie protested.

She was right.

“No. It’s fussy. She doesn’t want fussy,” Dora spoke up. “I don’t love it.”

“I don’t, either,” I admitted.

“But it’s soclassic, Daphne. You would look darling. And it would hide your stomach.”

I didn’t want to hide my stomach. Tears welled and I sputtered, “I don’t want that. I never said I wanted to just lie and hide this. I’m not ashamed to be pregnant. I know you might be, but… I am not! I’m finally having a baby with a man I can trust. After years of heartache, I’ll finally be a mother. I refuse to feel bad about that! And I don’t like it. I don’t care if you do. The dress is lovely—for someone else. And you had your chance to dress me ten years ago. This ismywedding day. I will wear what I want.”

Chloe handed me a tissue. I dabbed my eyes as my mother fell silent.

“Should we try the crepe on again?” Pippa asked, too cheerfully.

“Yes,” Chloe, Delanie, and Dora answered in unison.

So, I tried on the dream dress again. I loved the ruching, the way it hit all of my curves. I felt like a woman. I felt strong. This wasthedress, but I couldn’t help but cry, because it was pointless. I couldn’t wear this dress. It would never fit by the time we finally said our vows. So, once more, I gave up on a dream. My timing was always shit.

Cal

Chloe’s number appeared on my phone as I was finishing mythird cup of coffee. Worried, someone had died, I answered the phone.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked.

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