An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three)

by Schurig, Rachel

  Knowing that the best way to get him to agree to the dress would be to give him some control, I made my voice as innocent as I could. “What do you think it needs, Ry?”

  “Maybe a little sparkle,” he murmured, coming closer to peer at the lace. “Janet, do you have a belt with some crystals?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Should I grab a veil, too?”

  A veil! I felt another rush of excitement. It all felt so real, suddenly. Ryan told Janet what he wanted and she hurried off, leaving the three of us alone.

  “You love it, don’t you?” Emily asked, watching my face. I couldn’t keep my eyes off my reflection in the mirror. I had never felt so beautiful in my entire life.

  “I do,” I said, twirling a little so I could see the back. “I really, really do.”

  “It looks like you,” she murmured. “And I think Chris would really like it.”

  I pictured his face, seeing me in this dress, walking down the aisle. I felt like jumping up and down. This was definitely, definitely the dress.

  A moment later, Janet returned. “Face this way,” she instructed, turning me away from the mirror. “I don’t want you to see it until we’re all done.” She pulled the bow from the dress and replaced it with a silk belt encrusted with glittering crystals. She then twisted my hair up so it was off of my neck, securing it with a pin from her pocket, before placing a veil on my head.

  “Okay,” she said. “Turn around.”

  I turned back to the mirror and let out a little squeal. The blinged out sash was perfect, exactly what the dress needed to take it to the next level. The veil Janet had chosen was cathedral length. It flowed out behind the dress in a trail of finest tulle. The edges were trimmed with a narrow border of lace, perfectly matching the dress.

  “Perfect,” Ryan murmured, nodding appreciatively. “Absolutely perfect.” I met his eyes and his face broke out into a grin. “You look like a million bucks, babe.”

  “I can’t believe I found my dress!” I wanted to jump off the platform and do a cartwheel, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t go over very well with Janet. I also wasn’t sure I could even do a cartwheel. So I made do with bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet.

  “This will fit just about any venue you can imagine,” Janet said. “I think you’ll be happy with it no matter where you end up getting married.”

  Her words put an immediate damper on my mood. I didn’t know where I was getting married, or even when. Looking at myself in the mirror, I took a deep breath. Finding the dress had made a few things really clear to me. For the first time since we’d gotten engaged, I realized how much I wanted to marry Chris—and how much I wanted to have the wedding I had always dreamed of. As much as I hated to admit it, my parents weren’t going to magically get back together just to make my life easier. The only way this wedding was going to happen any time soon was if I sucked it up and started making plans, regardless of how angry I was at my mom.

  “Should we get you measured?” Janet asked. “Or do you want to sleep on it?”

  I met Ryan’s eye in the mirror. He was watching my face. “Do you maybe want to show your mom first?” he asked softly.

  “I probably should,” I said. It made me feel sad to think of picking a dress without her input. She had helped me make every big decision for the past twenty-five years, from what prom dress to wear to what college to choose. No matter how angry and confused I might be about the situation with my dad, she was still my mother—a mother I had always considered myself very close with. Could I really get a dress without her here?

  I had a sudden flash of picking out my prom dress. I had wanted something short, a hot pink fifties-style swing dress that I had fallen in love with at first sight. My mother, however, insisted that I get something floor length. “It’s your first formal dress, Ashley,” she had said in that knowing way of hers. “There will be professional pictures that you’ll keep for years. You want to look appropriate.” Then she had eyed the beloved pink dress, condescension written all over her face.

  “I’ll take it,” I heard myself say. Ryan looked at me in surprise. I turned to Janet. “I’d like to put a deposit down.”

  “Very good,” she said. “Let’s get you out of the dress, and I’ll take your measurements, then we can go over the sale process.”

  I stepped off the platform feeling somewhat dizzy about the decision I had just made, but surprisingly determined. I loved this dress and I was going to wear it for my wedding. And no one, not even Amber Phillips, was going to talk me out of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was in a funk all day Thursday, no doubt because I was dreading the meeting with my mother and the wedding planner that afternoon. Why hadn’t I just been strong and told her I wasn’t interested? She had called me on my way to work that morning to remind me not to be late. I didn’t tell her about the dress. In spite of my act of confidence in the bridal salon, in the cold light of day, I was pretty scared of how she was going to react.

  By three o’clock, I had raised my voice to Tony and two other kids. I had threatened to cancel recess and put two more kids on yellow. When the bell finally rang, I felt terrible. I made it a rule to never take out my personal life on my students. It wasn’t their fault that my mom was driving me nuts.

  “Miss Ashley,” Tony said, pulling on the edge of my cardigan. I felt a flash of irritation. Tony had been on my very last nerve all day. Rambunctious at the best of times, the kid seemed to have an extra sense to detect when my patience was wearing thin. Ordering myself not to snap at him, I looked down at his little face.

  “I’m sorry I was so bad today.”

  His eyes were large and pleading. Immediately, I felt like crying. How obviously annoyed had I been with him? I kneeled next to him and put my arm around his little shoulder. “You weren’t bad, buddy. I want you to try and listen better tomorrow, but you weren’t bad, okay?”

  His face lit up in a smile, and I felt even worse. “Okay. I’ll listen better. Promise.”

  I squeezed his shoulders and released him. “Go on and get to the bus, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe you can help me water the plants in the morning.”

  “Awesome!” he cried, giving me one last grin before running out of the room. I stared after him, feeling tired and angry with myself. Watering plants was one of the prized chores in the room. For reasons only making sense to five year olds, every kid in the room constantly begged me to be the plant waterer. I knew that Tony’s behavior was much improved when I gave him special jobs like that. I needed to do a better job of remembering that, instead of letting my temper get the best of me.

  I sighed and stood, heading over to my desk to grab my purse. I had to rush if I wanted to meet my mother and the planner on time—not that I really wanted to, but my mother would never let me live down the rudeness if I wasn’t there.

  She had arranged for us to meet at a coffee house in Birmingham, about ten minutes from my apartment. I wondered if she was staying nearby or if she had picked the location out of convenience for me. I had no idea what hotel she was in, and was in no hurry to find out. Knowing her, it was somewhere swanky, if my hunch was correct and she was using my dad’s charge card to finance her little “break.”

  “Ashley, dear, you look exhausted,” she said as I approached her table. She stood up to kiss my cheek. “Is that chalk on your skirt?”

  “I came straight from work, Mother,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

  “It’s all right, dear, I’m sure she won’t notice. Here, maybe you can wipe it off.” She attacked the chalk mark on my black skirt with a napkin from the table.

  “Mom, please,” I said, shooing her hand away.

  There was a momentary awkward silence. I stared hard at the table, thinking how strange this all was; how I had felt immediately angry and defensive the moment I saw her. It made me both sad—we had always been so close—and angry at the same time.

  “How are you, dear?”

  I l
ooked up, surprised to see that my mom was peering at my face. She looked odd, sad almost.

  I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “Is Chris well? Are the two of you enjoying the engagement?”

  I thought about Chris’s words the previous Saturday, about how glad he had been to see me get excited about the wedding, and I felt another little flash of anger at her.

  “Chris is fine, Mom,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

  I thought I saw her face fall a little bit, but she quickly looked away, glancing around at the bustling café. “I’ve been here for five minutes already, and I haven’t seen a single waiter. What kind of service is that?”

  “You probably have to order at the counter,” I said, pointing at the line. My mother narrowed her eyes slightly. Table service was very high on her list of must-haves in any establishment. “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Thank you, Ashley. Just a coffee, please,” she said. Eager to get away, I headed over to wait in line, watching out of the corner of my eye as the wedding planner arrived and greeted my mother. She was a little taller than me with dark hair, cut in a stylish bob, the sleekness of which could have rivaled my mother’s. I sighed, fearing the worst.

  “Ashley, this is Jennifer Thompson,” my mother said, once I had returned. I set our drinks down on the table, and the wedding planner stood to meet me. “Mrs. Thompson, my daughter, Ashley.”

  “Call me Jen, please.” The lady held out her hand for me to shake, smiling warmly at me. On closer inspection, she looked to be about my age. In addition to her sleek hair, she had a very warm smile. I noticed that the skin around her eyes crinkled slightly when she smiled, and I got the sense that this girl laughed a lot. I felt myself start to warm to her immediately.

  “So your mother was just filling me in on the basics,” Jen said, sitting again and pulling a notebook closer to her. “You’ve been engaged for about a month now?”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  She caught sight of the ring on my finger and grinned. “May I?”

  I held out my hand and she took it in her own, sighing happily. “It’s beautiful.” She leaned a little closer to me and said, almost conspiratorially, “How’d he propose?”

  I told her the whole story, realizing as I did so that my mother had never heard it. I remembered how excited I’d been to tell her, to giggle with her and hear her squeal at all the good parts. As I talked, she remained silent, drinking her coffee. It struck me that she probably didn’t want to admit to this stranger that this was all news for her as well—or was she just sad, as I was, that we never had this moment together?

  Jen, on the other hand, was a great audience. She sighed and laughed along with me, almost seeming to get teary at the end when I told her about coming inside to find Emily, Brooke, and Ryan waiting to congratulate us.

  “Working in this industry, I’ve heard a lot of engagement stories,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. “But I think that might have been the best one.”

  I grinned at her, liking her already. “It was pretty great. I’m a romance junkie, and Chris totally isn’t. The fact that he went to all that trouble just to make me happy…”

  “You hang onto that one,” Jen said, pointing at me. “He’s a keeper.”

  “Oh, I plan to.”

  “Jennifer, can I get you a coffee?” my mother asked. I had almost forgotten she was there, and I felt a flash of irritation that she had interrupted Jen’s praise of my fiancé. But Jen merely smiled and declined, saying she’d been drinking coffee all afternoon.

  “We have a big event this weekend,” she explained. “I’ve been burning the midnight oil to get all the last-minute stuff finished.” Jen glanced back down at her notebook. “So, Ashley, why don’t you tell me what kind of wedding you’re envisioning?”

  It was not a surprise when my mother started talking before I could even open my mouth. “We definitely want a memorable event for all of our friends and family. I’d say we’re looking at two hundred guests, at least. And we want the wedding to be very nice, very classy. Formal. I was thinking perhaps the local country club or the yacht club we belong to.”

  Jen met my eyes briefly before turning back to her notebook to begin writing. She looked almost as if she felt sorry for me. I got the sense that I had met a kindred spirit in her. “Okay, that sounds lovely. What time of year are you aiming for?”

  “If possible, I’d like for it to be this summer. I know that doesn’t give us a lot of time.”

  Jen nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure it can be done. If you decide to go with us, we do have quite a few contacts, close associates we can usually persuade to squeeze our brides in, even when we’re cutting it a little close.” She winked at me.

  “I think we’ll definitely use your services,” my mom said. “We’ve heard such wonderful reports about you from very good friends.”

  I turned to gape at my mother. Was she seriously going to hire this woman without even discussing it with me? She merely raised her eyebrows at me, looking innocent.

  I saw Jen watching us closely. “Well, why don’t you talk about it first, involve the groom in the decision. You should all feel comfortable with your choice. I can leave a contract with you to look over. It will give you an idea of the kind of work we do, what you can expect from the service, and so on.”

  “That sounds good,” I said, my voice tight.

  “I would work very closely with my partner to ensure all your expectations are met,” Jen went on. “Between the two of us, you’ll always have first-class service.”

  “Wonderful,” my mother said, nodding happily. I felt another flash of anger at her. She had clearly already decided we’d be hiring a wedding planner, regardless of how I felt. Or how her estranged husband felt—and he’d be the one to foot the bill.

  “Do either of you have any questions?”

  Before my mother could say anything, I took a deep breath. “How much will it cost?”

  “Ashley!” Mom cried, looking shocked. My parents weren’t rich, but they were very comfortable. The way my mom acted sometimes, you’d think they were loaded. “Well-off people never talk about money in public,” she would always remind me. It was one of my mother’s most ironclad rules.

  “What?” I asked aggressively. “We haven’t discussed any kind of budget. You’re all prepared to spend Daddy’s money. Have you even talked to him about this?”

  My mother looked livid. Across the table, I could see that Jen was uncomfortable, and I felt bad for letting my temper get the best of me.

  “That is something to discuss in private,” my mother hissed.

  “Budget is an important factor,” Jen said, clearly trying to smooth things over. “It’s all laid out in more detail in the contracts there, but generally our fee is fifteen percent of your total wedding expenditures. Sometimes, for more involved requests, that number might vary.”

  “That sounds just fine, Mrs. Thompson,” my mother said through clenched teeth, still glaring at me.

  “Well, if you don’t have any more questions, I’ll leave the two of you to discuss things.” Jen stood. “Please take your time. If you have any questions for me at all, you can give me a call at the office or shoot me an email.”

  She held out her hand for my mother before turning to me. Her eyes met mine again as she shook my hand. “It was very nice to meet you,” she said. Did I imagine a note of pity in her voice? A moment later, she was gone, and I was alone with my mother.

  “I cannot believe you would be so rude, Ashley,” she said, her voice shaking. “I thought I raised you better than that. To bring up personal family matters in front of a stranger—”

  “Well, she had to find out sometime, didn’t she?” I snapped back. “Or were you planning on going through the entire wedding pretending you and Daddy are still together?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Excuse me for wanting to throw my daughter a beautiful wedding,” she said. “Excuse me f
or wanting to put our best face forward to family and friends.”

  I groaned inwardly. “Put our best face forward” was another one of her rules. She invoked it often, any time my clothes or hair or behavior didn’t match her expectations.

  “Do you know who that girl’s partner is?” she went on. “Her sister-in-law. Kiki Barker-Thompson.” When I looked blank, she groaned. “The only daughter of David Barker. Who, I shouldn’t need to remind you, is one of the most influential men in the entire state. I believe he funds quite a bit of research at your own fiancé’s university. Why wouldn’t you want to associate yourself with these people, Ashley?”

  Oh, great. Now she was going to start talking about the importance of networking and developing good social circles. Hoping to cut her off at the pass, I changed the subject. “I’m not comfortable with you spending Dad’s money on my behalf,” I said. “Does he even know about all of these plans you’re making? Have you even talked to him since you left?”

  She sighed loudly, as if I was being unreasonable. “Fine. I will call him tonight and we will determine a budget.”

  “Mom, Chris and I could just pay for it. There’s no reason for Daddy to feel like he needs to spend so much money. It doesn’t have to be that big of a deal.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you think your father and I have never discussed our daughters’ weddings? He always had every intention of paying for you girls when the time came. What happened between him and me doesn’t change that.”

  “Fine,” I said, feeling defeated. How did my mom always find a way to beat down every argument?

  “Thank you,” she said. She smiled, looking peaceful and content once more—the look of a woman who always got her way. She sipped her coffee and looked around the café. “You know, this place really isn’t that bad.”

  * * *