Page 98 of The Love Playbook

Barb practically vibrates with excitement as we hurry down the hall and into the showroom. Her love for my father is obvious, and though I can’t say I’m happy for them, because I still think this is a mistake, I can’t help but share a little bit of her enthusiasm.

“Just hand me over the dresses, ladies, and I’ll be sure to get them set up in your room,” Marti says from behind us.

True to her word, she’s been like a ghost over the last hour: hovering somewhere nearby, present when we need her, but also out of sight when we don’t.

Barb immediately pulls the two gowns she’d seen earlier and hands them to Marti before she and I start sifting through the racks together. “So, what kind of look are you going for?” I ask. “Any particular styles?”

“I think I want something simple. Clean lines but elegant. When I married Benjamin, I was covered from head to toe in lace with a train that weighed about twenty pounds.” She gasps and covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . is that weird? Mentioning my former husband when I’m about to marry your father?”

I shake my head, flicking through a couple dresses in front of me. “No. It’s no secret you were married, and you should be proud. You had a successful, happy marriage. He’s a part of who you are. You have children, and a history no one can erase or take away from you. It’s important you remember that.”

Just like it’s important for my father to remember the same. Because it seems like ever since he left my mother, he’s been doing nothing but trying to forget.

Her expression softens as she turns back to the gowns. “Well, though I loved that dress, this time, I’d like something far more understated.”

“Like this?” I pull the dress at my fingertips off the rack and hold it out for her to see.

It’s a simple sheath dress in a delicate crepey fabric that hangs effortlessly to the floor, it’s tiny train puddling like a pool of white ink.

“It’s gorgeous.” Barb gasps.

“You should definitely try it on,” I say, handing it off to Marti.

“Oh, Charlotte,” Barb says, stepping toward me as I turn back around. Taking my hands in hers, she meets my gaze with watery eyes. “Thank you for being here. For supporting us. I was so certain you weren’t going to come around, and I . . . I know your relationship with your father has been strained at times, but you mean so much to him; you really do. Which means you mean so much to me, and so having you here, supporting me . . .” She shakes her head, her voice thick when she continues, “Well, I don’t know if Chris is the reason for your change of heart, or your father, but it’s all I could ever ask for.”

I swallow, my heart tugging at the tenderness in her voice and the emotion shining in her sapphire eyes. I never imagined I’d be in a situation where I’d be helping another woman choose a wedding dress to walk down the aisle with my father, but standing here with Barb, my soon-to-be stepmother, feels kindof like trying on a bonus family. One built not on blood, but on quiet, shared moments just like this one?the kind of moments I should be having with my own mother?and I can’t say I don’t like the way it fits.

I only wonder how Chris and I will fit into this dynamic. If things between us progress, what will Barb think of us? What will my father think of us?

I can’t imagine him being happy at the prospect of me dating one of his stepsons, but then again, most of the choices he’s made since the divorce have been questionable, so I’m not sure I give a shit what he thinks.

It’s with this thought in mind that I give Barb’s hands a little squeeze. “Your son is certainly persuasive,” I say, unable to admit the truth?that I’m here because I struck a deal with my father. Then, needing a little levity, I reach out and grab a massive tulle monstrosity off the rack that looks like Glinda the Good Witch threw up a bucket of silver glitter. “But if you wear a gown like this, I’m afraid I can no longer support your union.” I hold the dress out in front of me.

Barb tips her head back and laughs, wiping at the moisture in her eyes as she takes in the dress with wide eyes. “Wow. That really is hideous, isn’t it?”

“Deplorable.” A wicked grin splits my lips as I glance back at Marti. “What do you say, just to have a little fun with Marti, you try a few of these abominations on?”

Barb blinks, her smile spreading as she catches on. “The ugliest dresses we can find?”

“The five most hideous dresses in this place,” I say with a chuckle. “You’ll try on the real dresses, of course, but let’s have some fun while you’re at it.”

Barb nods. “Everything we say will be the opposite. So, the dresses we love the most, the real winners, we’ll act like wedetest, and we’ll pretend like I’m going to pick one of the horrid ones just to see her reaction.”

I press my lips together to stifle my laugh. “Do you think she’ll try to talk you out of it?”

Barb glances down at the price tag of the tulle cloud in my hands and she hisses. “Lord no. This thing is three grand. She’ll take her commission with a smile.”

“Nooo,” I drawl, unable to believe it. Anyone that allows someone to buy something so terrible for the most special day of their life should be shot.

“Yes,” Barb nods. “Ten bucks says she lets me buy an ugly gown.”

I narrow my eyes, lips quirking. “Okay. Ten says she subtly steers you toward something human.”

“You’re on.” Barb stretches her hand out for me to shake, and I clasp it in mine with a little snicker.

“Hey, Marti,” I call behind me, holding the dress up. “My stepmother would like to try on this one, too.”

Forty-five minutes later, Barb emerges from the fitting room in the crepe sheath dress I picked out, eyes shining as she steps up onto the little podium in front of the three-way mirrors. Marti gasps from her perch nearby before she insists Barb try it on with a veil and scurries off to fetch one.

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