Page 7 of One More Chance

Harper

Today is bridal party hell.Granted—and luckily—it’s only me, Cora, and the bride herself. It could be much worse. But it’s still hell. Cora couldn’t come down to shop for bridesmaids’ dresses before due to her work schedule. Now we’re in a boutique in town, trying on lace and satin and everything else the day after she arrived.

Lyla’s dress is ready, so it’s just Cora and I who need to find dresses. But we’re built differently, so finding a dress that works for both our figures, while also being comfortable, is proving to be difficult.

Lyla wants a classic look. Something sleeveless or with thin straps. For my frame, that’s not a problem. I’m not working with a lot up top. It’s a decent handful. A small handful, though; nothing will spill out of any dress. Cora, on the other hand, is built similarly to my sister. All boobs. Lots of boobs. Boobs everywhere. So some strapless numbers won’t work.

“What about this one?” Cora says, holding up a lilac floor length goddess number. It flows nicely, and I think the straps would be okay for both of us.

“I don’t really want lilac. Do they have it in another color?” Lyla asks from two racks over.

Cora replaces the dress and starts flipping through color options. “Green?”

“I shouldn’t even have to tell you no,” Lyla says.

“Gray?” Cora says.

“Wait, gray could work,” Lyla says.

We converge to where Cora is and rifle through the dresses. They have a few sizes in the gray and we find some that could possibly fit us.

“Dressing rooms?” I ask, and then we make our way toward the mirrors in the back.

“Okay, I think these are gonna work!” Lyla says. She’s standing there staring at me and Cora while we twirl and turn in front of the mirrors.

In truth, I actually like this dress. It feels light and comfortable, and it looks good on both of us. The color is approved. “What do you think?” I ask Cora.

“Girl, if the bride loves it and we even like it a little, I say we go for it.” Cora laughs.

We finish changing and pick out shoes and accessories to match the dresses then head to the register.

“Hey, ladies,” I hear from behind us.

We all turn to see Gentry and Jensen stepping into the shop, but I know Gentry’s voice, and Jensen is definitely the one who greeted us.

“Hey there,” Lyla says. “What are ya’ll doin’ in town?”

“I had to come pick up my tux and Jensen needed a suit,” Gentry says, gliding past everyone to wrap his arms around my sister. They’re disgusting. Like in that overly affectionate way that annoys all single people.

My sister wraps her arms around Gentry’s neck and asks him if he missed her last night.

“No! No, you’re not doing this here!” I exclaim in protest to the scene.

“I second that,” says Cora.

“Third,” says Jensen.

“We’re just about to pay. Does everyone want to get lunch?” my sister asks as she wrenches herself away from Gentry—finally—and we all nod.

“Ladies, if you’ll allow me.” Jensen steps up to me and Cora, reaching for his wallet.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Paying for my sister and my date’s wedding attire as a small token of my gratitude for letting me tag along. And also for the open bar that I will be killing.” Jensen laughs.

“Oh, no. I can’t let you do that,” I say.

“But I insist,” he says.