Chapter Five
If texting with your ex-husband who you haven’t seen in five years and who just sent you flowers after you m*********d to memories of him for an entire weekend doesn’t put you in the mood to be in a room full of wedding dresses, I don’t know what will.
And yes, that wasn’t just sarcastic, but sarcaustic. You did detect an extra dose of bitterness.
I follow the loud voices of my family through the sea of white and ivory to the three-way mirror where my cousin, Skylar, stands on a pedestal, the seamstress pinning away.
She looks stunning as always—her long brown hair pinned into a bun, her girl next door vibe disappearing into the beauty of a bride.
Another damn happily ever after couple.
“Chels!” she exclaims being the first to see me in the mirror.
The row of women from
