Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I kiss him. I might be his sunshine, but he’s my everything. My moon and stars and the balance to my chaos. I don’t care if that’s cheesy as hell. I’m in love! We’re in love! His hands weave their way into my hair, and I press closer to him, reveling in the way we fit perfectly against each other. As if we were always meant to be.
“Yes,” I say against his lips. “Yes, I will marry you. Yes, a thousand times yes!”
“I haven’t actually proposed yet.” He grins, pressing his lips against mine again.
Oh.
“Well.” I shrug. “You will.”
Epilogue
For the record, Warren did propose. Sure, it was months after I accepted the proposal, but the point is I said yes and he asked. The order hardly matters.
Our wedding was perfect. James’ date was a YouTube influencer who we never saw again. Honestly, we were just happy he brought the same woman to the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.
I did not make my own dress.
Because I let Miller do it.
By then he’d had a year of F.I.T under his belt. Plus, he’s brilliant. He created the most ethereal bohemian vision, with a deep v-neck and a long gauzy floor-length bottom. He found the most incredible vintage lace that he overlaid the entire dress with. I felt like a Disney princess. A really sexy Disney princess. The wedding was in the backyard at the governor’s mansion and I promise you the birds sang and the bees buzzed and the chipmunks danced.
Fine, the chipmunks did not dance, but one did zip across the patio as I made my way out the back door to walk down the aisle and that’s practically the same thing.
Bethany was ecstatic to be gaining a bonus mom, even though she’s already got a great mom and doesn’t need any extra mom-ing. She calls me Maudrey—it’s a mix of Mom and Audrey—and clearly I lucked out with the package deal that is Warren Russo.
Duke was the ring bearer. Gary had to stay inside because, well, he’s a cat. And still not entirely trustworthy around unchaperoned chipmunks. But he did wear a matching bow tie for the photos. Even better, Warren didn’t even argue with me when I slid a framed photo of Duke and Gary from our wedding day onto his desk. He did pause mid-sentence and slowly rub his forehead with two fingers before continuing the call with a state legislator. The photo’s still there. As is a brass flamingo lamp I picked up at an estate sale. It really was too dark in there, and everyone knows dim light is terrible for eye strain.
Honestly, he’s so lucky he has me.
Mrs Bianchi was over the moon, obviously. She takes full credit for our union, which is fair enough. But there’s really no reasoning with her at this point if she’s having one of her Very Good Feelings. And she will pull the Very Good Feeling card to suit her every whim. If she wants pink flowers in the wedding centerpieces? Very Good Feeling. If she thinks we should all celebrate Easter in Prague because James is filming a movie on location and can’t travel? Very Good Feeling. If she wants me to spend the day with her in the city visiting a new thrift shop? Very Good Feeling. I’ve learned to roll with any sentence that includes, “I’m having one of my Very Good Feelings.”
Two months ago she sent me a dozen lemon shortbread cookies because she had a Very Good Feeling I needed them.
The thing is, I did need them. Inhaled them. Pregnancy cravings are no joke and I had a weird fixation with lemon shortbread. Chocolate-chip made me nauseous. Cinnamon-sugar gave me the dry heaves if they were even in the same room. But lemon shortbread? Couldn’t get enough. Except… we hadn’t told her we were expecting yet. And then she casually mentioned, as if it had nothing to do with why she sent the cookies, that she couldn’t eat enough lemon shortbread when she was pregnant with Warren.
She’s a menace.
Or perhaps a sorceress would be a more appropriate label. It’s hard to be mad when she uses her powers for good. It’s also hard to be mad when you’re eating cookies, if you’re looking for a bit of life advice.
* * *
“Oh, my God, it’s perfect!”
There’s nothing like the look of joy on a woman’s face when she’s found the perfect dress. Or pantsuit. Or, hell, even the perfect bow-tie for her dog. In this particular case, however, the woman in question is a bride-to-be, and she’s just had her Say Yes to the Dress moment.
With me.
In my shop.
And no matter how many dresses I redesign and sell, upcycled wedding dresses are extra-special. The moment a bride’s eyes light up during the fitting, after I’ve revamped an heirloom dress into their dress, well, it never gets old.