Peter brings the car to a smooth stop along the curb and puts the car in park. He waits patiently as we gather our purses and belongings.
“Thank you, Peter,” Rebecca says, getting out of the passenger seat.
It takes me a moment to throw my purse over my shoulder and step out of the car. Vern was already waiting in front of the grand, posh building I assumed we were going to. I stood there with her in awe at the marvelous building. It didn’t seem to fit the rest of the street.
While everything else on the street was old and Victorian, this building was new and luxurious with a white marble front and columns lined with gold. The glass door itself was big enough to allow four people to walk in together, side by side. Up above the door, inscribed on the white marble, read the name: Aria.
“You did not,” Vern gasps. Her wide blue eyes turn to Rebecca. “You were able to get a reservation at Aria Bradley?”
I frown, feeling like I should know who Aria Bradley is. The name sounded familiar but wasn’t ringing any bells.
Rebecca has a knowing smirk on her face. We follow her to the glass door, where she pushes a buzzer and we wait a few seconds before someone answers on the side. “Rebecca Mitchell for eleven-thirty,” she says into the com.
“Ah, yes. I see you here, Mrs. Mitchell, we’ll be right over.”
Minutes later, the glass door is swinging open and young women in her mid-twenties is standing in the doorway with a brilliant smile on her face.
“Good morning, I’m Brit and I’ll be helping you out today,” she says, the smile never wavering.
Rebecca is the first to follow her with Vern and I trailing behind. We follow Brit down a long corridor until we come to the very end where she opens the white double French doors. Immediately, Vern makes herself comfortable on the velvet chaise. A few seconds later, another woman walks in holding a platter of three champagne glasses.
“I love this place,” Vern says, grabbing a glass. I laugh at her excitement. She gives me a I-can’t-help-it look and eagerly takes a sip of her drink.
“So, who is the lucky bride to be?” Brit asks. Rebecca and Vern’s eyes fall on me. Brit takes quick notice of this and soon enough, her eyes are on me as well. “What are we looking for?”
“Um . . .” I should be able to answer the question right away, but I can’t. I couldn’t tell her what I was looking for because I had no idea. Up until now, everything was being planned out and picked for me. “Something simple,” I settle on.
Her smile finally wavers. “Simple,” she repeats as if that would provoke more details.
“I-I don’t want anything to frilly or glittery or too long or. . . billow-y.” God, I feel like an i***t.
Her smile seems to become more genuine. “Alright, I can work with that. Let me pull out a few dresses to start with, I’ll be right back.”
Vern gets up from the chaise to shove a glass of champagne in my hand. She throws an arm around my shoulder. “Enjoy it,” she says, hitting her glass against mine so that a loud clink echoes throughout the room.
I take a sip, feeling the alcohol course through my body. Vern’s gaze flicks to the glass in my hand, a smirk appearing on her face. I look down and notice the glass is already half empty. I had taken more than just a sip – oops.
Brit comes back, carrying a few dresses in her arms. She hangs them up on a rack but keeps one in hand as she says, “I think this a good one to start off with.” She pulls back what I now notice is a curtain and hangs the dress up on a hook inside the makeshift dressing room.
I pass my glass to Vern who accepts it gleefully and downs the rest of its contents, the smirk still ever present on her face. I’m beginning to think that smirk is a signature trademark of the Mitchell family. “Thank you,” I say as she closes the curtain behind me.
“Just give a holler if you need any help.”
I strip down to nothing but my underwear. I stare at the dress, admiring it for a few minutes. It was nothing like the others I had tried on. It was simple with its halter cut top and rhinestone belt. Nothing about the dress screamed fancy.
I slip into the dress and holler for Brit. She’s already waiting outside the dressing room. I turn around so that she can zip it up. When she’s done, she leads me to the small pedestal in front of the tri fold mirror.
“What do you think?” she asks, her eyes on the dress.
I spin to get a better look at the dress. I felt like we were getting a little closer to what I… wanted? I feel Vern’s arm around my shoulder before I see her actually appear next to me in the mirror.
“Verdict?” she asks, taking a sip from her now half empty glass.
“This one is a little too simple, but I like that it doesn’t have to many layers.”
“Do you like the cut of the dress?” Brit asks. “What about the length?”
I nod and say, “The length is good and so far, I like the cut. Do you maybe have something with lace?”
“We do!”
Rebecca and Vern share a smile. When I ask what that was about, they simply shrug, claiming it’s nothing. Another round of champagne is brought, and Vern is shoving a glass in my hand. At first, it’s hard to drink and constantly try on dresses, but I manage and can even feel the alcohol kick in around the third glass.
Then, before I know it, I’m standing in front of the mirror unable to tear my eyes away from the girl staring back at me. It’s the dress, I think to myself. It’s the dress. I don’t know if it’s the lighting in the room or maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through my blood, but I know one thing and it’s that I don’t want to ever take this off.
“Oh my god,” Vern gasps. “If you pass on that dress, I’m going to beat you senseless.”
“Must everything lead to violence, Vern?” Rebecca asks.
“If it means Juliette picking that dress, then yes.”
Rebecca shakes her head, but realizes her comments are futile. She turns to me with a smile and I already know what she’s about to ask.
“This one,” I say, before she can. I’m in love with everything about the dress, from lace straps, the plunging neckline, all the way down to the carefully embroidered hem.
Rebecca turns to Brit, standing by the mirror also admiring the dress. “We’ll take this one.”
She smiles. “Great choice. We’re also looking for bridesmaid dresses, yes?”
“Yes,” Rebecca confirms.
She turns to me. “Any particular color?”
“Um…”
“Maroon, preferably,” Rebecca answers for me.
I give Vern a look asking why that specific color? She leans down to whisper in my ear. “Maroon and black are the family colors.” She must notice the confused look on my face because she asks, “Grayson didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head, feeling left in the dark. It dawned on me that I was about to marry into the Mitchell family but knew so little about them. Was I making a huge mistake?
“Don’t worry about it. He has a lot going on and it probably just slipped his mind.” She rubs my arm gently. I have a sudden urge to pull away, but don’t.
I couldn’t be completely mad at Grayson; it was partly my fault. I had the ability to ask. I just never did and was going to change that. Tonight. I would ask all the questions to the answers I’ve been dying to know without hesitation.
“We have a few options for maroon dress,” Brit says, holding a few in her hand. I didn’t even notice her leave.
Minutes later, I find myself in the dressing room holding two glasses of champagne while Vern struggles to get one of the dresses on.
“You would think that they would accommodate for different chest sizes,” she complains.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away.”
I take a deep, hesitant breath. “Do you know… Isabel?”
She looks at me and asks, “Delgado?”
“That would be the one,” I say with an unsteady smile.
“Sure, I know her. Not very well but we’ve talked – I’ve even stayed at her house before.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “Why do you ask?”
I shrug. “They’re coming down for the wedding and staying with us—”
“Hold up,” Vern interrupts. “They’re staying with us.” I nod. “At the house?” Again, I nod. “Makes sense as to why Sydney had to move out of the main house.” She walks over to me, turns around and pulls her hair up, away from her back.
I zip up her dress. “What do you know?”
“I’m sure you’ve already heard that the Delgado’s are pretentious.”
“It came up,” I admit.
Vern turns around and faces me. “Isabel is nice enough. She’s very calculated so just be careful what you say around her. Isabel and her mother love gossip. They will hang on to every word you say, but you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’m not worried. I just wanna know what to expect.”
She gently rests her hands on my shoulders and gives a light squeeze of reassurance. “Don’t expect much, they’re not the nicest people around.”
I titter. “I’ve definitely heard that already.”
She takes a step back. “Now be honest, does this dress make my butt look too big?”
A couple hours later, Rebecca calls Peter and we all climb into the car and head back home. When we get back to the house, there’s a black Audi parked in the driveway. Vern and I exchange confused looks.
The living room is empty when we walk in, but we could hear a hum of voices coming from down the hall. Vern and I trail behind Rebecca down the hall until we come to the sitting room where Grayson, Sterling, and three strangers are waiting.
Grayson and a young girl with long, dark brown hair are standing off to the side of the room. She laughs at something he says and lays a hand on his arm. I get the sudden urge to walk over and slap her hand away but refrain.
“Rebecca!” the older man with dark hair says. I catch the lilt of his accent. “I hope you don’t mind, but we decided to come a little early.”
Rebecca smiles. “What a wonderful surprise.” The two strangers and Sterling get up from the couch. “We’re so happy to have you,” she says, taking his outstretched hand. They kiss each cheek before Rebecca turns to the woman and does the same.
Then it’s Vern’s turn to exchange pleasantries with them. Grayson finally takes notice of us, pulls himself away from the girl and walks over to us. He pecks my lips before wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me forward.
“Juliette, this is the Delgado’s– Ernesto, Nydia, and Isabel.” He gestures to each person as he says their names. “And this is Juliette, my fiancé.”
I hesitate at first but then hold out a hand. Ernesto raises a brow and looks down at my hand. A smile appears and before I know it, he’s pulling me in for a hug.
“Juliette, it’s lovely to meet you.” He looks at Grayson. “She’s beautiful. You’re a lucky man.”
I glance at Nydia; her eyes are cold and calculating. She forces a smile and takes my hand in hers. “Nice to finally meet you,” she says, but I can tell this anything but pleasant for her.
Isabel steps forward, pulling me into a hug like her dad had done earlier. I’m mesmerized by her honey brown eyes and her warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Grayson has told me so much about you.”
I smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“You guys must be tired,” Rebecca says. “I’ll have Eden show you to your rooms so that you can get settled. Dinner will be ready in a couple hours.”
Isabel looks at Grayson. “I’ll see you at dinner then.”
He gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Actually, Juliette and I have plans tonight.”
Her smile falters but she quickly recovers. “Well, we have plenty of time to catch up.” she looks at me. “Again, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Grayson slips his hand in mine and leads us away. I feel six pairs of eyes on us as we leave.