The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

I nod, reaching into my purse and drawing out my cell phone so I can show it to her.

  “Oh, that’s a lovely one,” she says, looking at it. “I can definitely pull that for you, but while I’m pulling dresses, maybe I could pull a couple more, just in case it doesn’t look how you’re picturing it? I’ve been doing this for a while, and you’d be surprised how often that happens.”

  “Sure,” I say. “I have no problem with trying on more dresses, that’s just the one I have my eye on.”

  “Perfect. So, this is the look you like? A-line ballgown?”

  I nod. “That tends to be my favorite. If I don’t look like a princess in it, I’m wearing the wrong dress.”

  The consultant smiles. “Totally understand.”

  “I like sleeves, too, or if not sleeves, some kind of… something. I’m not a big fan of strapless.”

  “Got it. And what’s your budget?”

  “Her fiancé is loaded,” Mom butts in. “There’s no budget.”

  “There isn’t, but I would prefer not to go over $5,000,” I tell her.

  “Perfect. So, tell me a little bit about your wedding. When is it? Do you have a venue already? Do you have a theme? Color scheme?”

  “I’m getting married in Italy. I don’t want the dress to be too heavy, because while the ceremony will take place inside a church, the reception will be outdoors at a beautiful Tuscan estate, so it’ll be pretty warm.”

  She nods. “Got it.”

  “For my color scheme, I’m doing pink and champagne. My flower girl is wearing a champagne dress with a little pink sash. My maid of honor,” I say, gesturing to my mom, “will be wearing a champagne-colored gown as well, and my bridesmaid’s dress is this sexy, pinkish champagne silk. We actually found her dress before mine,” I say with a smile.

  “That sounds so pretty,” she enthuses.

  I nod my agreement. “She’s a beautiful human, she would look pretty in a burlap sack, but yeah, the dress is great. Given the color scheme, I don’t want a blinding white wedding gown. Maybe ivory, but I’m open to blush tones, too. I’m pretty flexible. I just want to look really, really pretty. My groom is so handsome it’s stupid, so I want to be beautiful for him on our wedding day.”

  “Oh, no,” she says, waving me off. “What are you talking about? You’re adorable.”

  I wasn’t fishing for compliments or reassurances. I understand that it may have come off that way, so to more clearly illustrate my point, I pull up a picture of Hunter on my phone and show him to her.

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, my.”

  I nod knowingly and lower my phone. “Now, imagine that in a tux. So, we need to really nail my wedding look.”

  She shakes her head, still mildly off her game over the sight of Hunter.

  I’m accustomed to the looks he gets from other women. As possessive as I am, I don’t love the looks, but I do completely understand them.

  After a moment, she recovers her wits and asks me a few more questions about my taste in wedding dresses, then she leads me back to the dressing room while Mom and Carlo wait for me in the other room.

  When the consultant comes back, I’ve changed into the satin robe she left me with. She’s carrying three gowns in plastic casing. I brighten immediately at the sight of the one I fell in love with online.

  “Now, a lot of times with my brides, the first dress isn’t the most popular, so instead of putting you right into your top pick, I was thinking we could try out a different silhouette. You have a nice figure, and you want to look a little sexy for your fiancé, so I was thinking we could try a mermaid.”

  I watch as she takes the gown out of its bag. “Works for me.”

  She flashes me a smile. Moments later, she’s helping me into the dress. As she pulls the fabric up over my hips, she meets my gaze in the mirror. “So, tell me more about this fiancé. Does he have a single brother?” she jokes.

  I smile. “Only sisters.”

  “Too bad,” she says lightly. “How did you guys meet?”

  I shift as she pulls the dress around me and starts to clamp it closed down the back. “We actually met in middle school. We went to school together our whole lives, but he didn’t notice me until then.”

  She regards me in the mirror with a pleasant smile. “You blossomed?”

  “Not exactly,” I murmur, thinking about that first day I truly noticed Hunter. “Anyway, we got close. He gave me my first kiss.”

  “Aw.”

  I smile and nod, but my smile doesn’t last long. “Then he had to move away for a while. He came back for our senior year of high school, though.”

  “And you reconnected?”

  My lips tug up at the tidy summation of our messy history. “Something like that.”

  “High school sweethearts,” she says, shaking her head. “I love that.”

  I smile a little more easily at that. “Yeah, we were.”

  “Well, you are one lucky woman,” she tells me.

  “I am well aware.”

  Her gaze flickers to my ring, but she doesn’t remark upon it, just smiles and finishes up with the dress.

  I gaze down at the ring I was too excited to even look at when Hunter first proposed. It’s stunning, a classic Harry Winston with an emerald cut diamond that’s a little bigger than I would’ve picked out for myself.

  It’s perfect, though. A little too much, just like the man I’m marrying.

  “What do you think?”

  I look up in the mirror, somehow caught off guard at the sight of myself in a wedding gown. I knew that’s what I would see, of course, but… wow.

  This dress is tight but extremely flattering. It’s strapless, which I said I didn’t want, but I like the way the bottom flares out like a mermaid tail.

  “It’s really pretty,” I tell her.

  “Yeah? You wanna show Mom?”

  I flash her a smile and nod. I don’t think it’s the one, but I do think Mom will enjoy seeing me in it. On the way here, she was complaining about me already knowing what I want because she wanted a fashion show.

  I pick up the bottom and make my way out onto the shop floor. Mom’s face is turned away at first, but then her gaze hits me and her eyes get big.

  “Wow.”

  I grin. “Yeah? It’s pretty,” I say, climbing up on the raised platform in front of the mirror.

  “It’s gorgeous. Oh my God, my baby is a bride,” she says, already starting to get emotional.

  “Oh no, this is only the first dress.”

  “I know.” She dabs at her eyes. “I’ll try to keep it together.” Looking at the consultant, she assures her, “I’m not normally an emotional basketcase, it’s this pregnancy. I’m a very tearful pregnant woman. The other day I saw this commercial…”

  “Don’t think about the commercial,” I tell her, since I remember the sobfest that ensued.

  “Pregnancy is terrible,” she concludes, shaking her head and reaching into her purse for her pack of tissues.

  I shake my head, looking in the mirror. “This is why I wanted Zoey to come with us. Maybe I do need someone less biased to give me feedback.” I turn around so Mom can see the front of the dress. “Can you take a picture to send her?”

  Mom nods and digs out my cell phone. “You just look so pretty,” she says, sounding like she’s on the verge of tears again.

  I wish I could walk over and give her a hug, but I don’t want her to cry on the dress.

  Pregnant Mom is adorable.

  She sends Zoey the picture and I turn around to look in the mirror again. The consultant and I discuss the things I like and don’t like about it, then Mom tells me Zoey texted back.

  “Chloe says ‘that is definitely the one’ and Zoey says that while she thinks it’s gorgeous, she still wants to see the one you sent her from the website.”

  I smile. I know Zoey said she and Chloe were binge-watching episodes of Say Yes to the Dress in preparation for today, so I’m not surprised Chloe was so easily won over.

/>   “This one is pretty,” I agree, glancing at the consultant. “I don’t think it’s the one, though. I don’t feel very princessy.”

  “Okay.” She nods. “Let’s get you in a ballgown, then.”

  She hauls me back to the dressing room, but she still doesn’t put me in the dress I’m sure I’ll like. Instead, she puts me in a tulle ballgown with beaded lace. It’s still not what I want, but at least this one isn’t strapless.

  The back is gorgeous. The front is just okay, but it has a very sexy back, sheer with bits of beaded lace and a row of pearl buttons.

  “This isn’t it, but can you take a picture for me, Mom? I want to send Hunter a tease.”

  Mom gasps. “He can’t see you in the dress!”

  “This isn’t the dress,” I assure her. “He’ll like my back in this one. Just take the picture, please.”

  She does, then the consultant hauls me back to the dressing room.

  “All right. I know, I know, you love the Eve of Milady dress, but while we were out there I spotted this gorgeous pink ballgown. You said you were open to pink… can I grab it?”

  I shrug, sitting down on the chair and crossing my legs. “Go for it.”

  The next gown she puts me in is very pretty, and much closer to what I’m looking for. The pink color would go with my wedding colors very well, but looking at it in the mirror, I’m not sure it will match the crown.

  There were two crowns to pick from, one with pink stones and one with pearl. I thought the diamond and pearl would be easier to match to a wedding dress, so that’s the one in the case.

  I can’t change my mind about the crown now. The grumpy guard is already here. I can’t send him back to exchange it for the other one.

  “I’m afraid to even send this one to Zoey. It’s princess pink and Chloe’s going to lose her shit over it,” Mom says as she snaps a picture of me.

  “Yes. She loves the princess gowns, and this is so princessy,” I agree, looking down at the lovely layers of tulle. “Very light, too. I like this one a lot.”

  “Maybe if you don’t get it for your wedding, you should get it for the Christmas ball,” Mom suggests.

  “Pink for a Christmas ball?” I shake my head, glancing at myself in the mirror again. “No. I think it’s a bit much, anyway. I know Cinderella makes you think enormous ballgowns are in fashion at balls, but this would probably be overkill.”

  “What’s the point of being a princess if you don’t get to wear big ballgowns?” Mom asks.

  “A question we must all ask ourselves.” I look at the consultant. “I think this is really pretty, but…” I’m about to tell her I want to change, but then I find myself looking in the mirror again.

  “It can be a maybe,” she suggests. “Let’s try on the one you’ve had your eye on now, see which one you like better.”

  She walks me back to the dressing room and gets me out of the pink dress.

  Finally, I get to try on the one I walked in expecting to love.

  I wasn’t nervous trying on any of the other dresses, but I actually do feel a little excited as she brings this one over.

  It’s a stunning gown with hand beaded appliqués and a big tulle skirt. It has these pretty bow straps that are mostly sheer, very delicate and beautiful. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it online, and, well… once I fall in love with something, I tend to stick with it.

  My tummy flutters as she helps me into the big, beautiful gown.

  I’ve imagined myself in this gown dozens of times.

  I’ve imagined the gorgeous chapel train dragging behind me as I clutch my bouquet and walk down the aisle toward Hunter. Ray is giving me away, so I can envision him ceremonially offering me to Hunter, see him claim my hand, the soft fabric of my gown swaying as I move to stand across from him, but it’s my face he can’t look away from. His gaze is locked on mine, his brown eyes warm and glinting with affection.

  We’ll each say our vows, then he’ll clutch my waist, his greedy fingers digging into the delicate embroidery as he holds me close and kisses me for the first time as his wife.

  Emotion clogs my throat. I almost can’t speak as I gaze at my own reflection.

  “Are you okay?” the consultant asks, watching my face in the mirror.

  I nod, but I still can’t speak.

  “Wanna show Mom?”

  I beam and nod again.

  This time when I pick up the bottom of the gown and make my way out to the main floor, I don’t feel like I’m playing dress up. I feel strong and sure and excited.

  I feel beautiful.

  I step up on the raised platform and look in the mirror. I still can’t find any words, but I don’t need them. Mom takes one look at me in this dress and bursts into fresh tears.

  This time I’m a little teary, too. I laugh at how stupid it is to cry over a dress, but it’s not the dress, it’s the feeling. It’s my wedding. I’m so excited to marry Hunter. I can’t believe I get to do this.

  I turn around to show Mom. She had that reaction when my back was still to her and she was only seeing the front in the mirror.

  “This is the dress,” I say when I finally trust myself to speak.

  She nods, dabbing at her tears and then taking a picture of me in the dress to send to Zoey and Chloe for approval.

  “Do you want to see it with the veil?” the consultant asks, smiling.

  I nod, remembering I need to try the crown on. “Carlo, can you open the case, please? I need to make sure the crown looks okay with this dress.”

  The consultant’s gaze flickers to me in surprise. I told her my fiancé’s family was lending me a piece of jewelry, but I didn’t say it was a crown.

  She makes her way over to select a veil for me anyway, then comes back to style me. Carlo is on standby with the crown, but when the consultant first tries to take it, he mean mugs her. Reluctantly, he hands it over when she tries a second time, and the consultant positions it on my head.

  Wow. That’s… a crown. On my head. I know it’s only ceremonial, but it’s still pretty wild.

  I thought he was done, but then Carlo takes out a matching pair of diamond and pearl drop earrings. “It’s a set,” he informs me.

  “Oh, okay,” I say, taking them and carefully putting them in my ears.

  “This is lovely,” the consultant murmurs, looking me over. “Now, you have to be careful with both a veil and a tiara, it can be pretty easy to get overwhelmed. I don’t know if you have your mind made up about your hair, but I would leave it down and just pull some back like this.” She pulls some bobby pins out of her pocket and makes quick work of making my hair look really pretty, then she attaches the veil and settles it around me.

  I feel a little breathless looking in the mirror at my own reflection. My heart begins to race and I can’t stop smiling.

  That’s how I’ll look when I marry Hunter.

  Mom chimes in, telling me my friend texted me back. “Chloe gasped and said, ‘That’s so pretty! She should say yes to that dress.’ Zoey concurs, she thinks you look absolutely amazing in it.”

  I grin, glancing at Mom in the mirror. “You can tell Chloe I am definitely saying yes to this dress.”

  ___

  Since we’re in New York for my bridal appointment, Hunter met up with one of his New York friends about some business venture they’ve been discussing.

  He texted me on my way back from the bridal store that his meeting was running a little late, but he’d be back as soon as he could—and he’d be immensely pleased to find me naked when he got there.

  Even though I know nobody can see me on this level when we’re facing Central Park, I’m still not going to walk around the hotel room completely naked. I take off my clothes and change into one of the white fluffy bathrobes the hotel provided for us.

  We’re staying at the same place we stayed for our first trip to New York together when we came to the charity ball, but this is far from our first trip.

  Hunter was right about Cal
eb Grant keeping his secret, but the unspoken price for his silence was Hunter’s inclusion into his social circle, his “friendship,” if Caleb is capable of such a thing.

  Hunter doesn’t seem to mind it. His whole view of it is a rather blasé, “This is just how these things work,” but I think lightly blackmailing someone into friendship is a bit odd.

  Then again, I got lightly blackmailed into a relationship with the man I’m ecstatic to marry, so maybe that’s a bit of a double standard.

  I know it comes from a place of protectiveness, though. Caleb knows something he shouldn’t about Hunter, and I still don’t consider him very trustworthy. The idea of anyone deliberately hurting Hunter fills me with rage.

  I don’t like Caleb because I know he possesses the tools to do it.

  Hunter tells me that in life, you need to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  I can’t imagine calling someone a friend when the delineation between whether that person is a friend or an enemy is quite so blurry.

  But Hunter and I are very different people. If it works for him, I suppose that’s okay. And, to be honest, I think all of Caleb’s friends are just one small step from enemy territory.

  Whatever their arrangement, the friendship hasn’t been without its perks for either of us. Caleb seems to be the gatekeeper to the New York elite. Anyone who’s anyone knows him, and his contact list spans all walks of life. He can make you or break you with little more than a phone call.

  He’s your go-to guy whether you need to know where to get the finest suit in the city, or you have some money to invest in a risky venture that could potentially quadruple your net worth. If you’re seeking a fence to sell you stolen antiquities, or you want to auction off something that can’t really be sold.

  He knows royals and thieves, business magnates and models. He knows the kinds of people most of us aren’t even sure exist.

  Hunter told me once that some of Caleb’s friends are mafia, that they come to his card games and gamble away small fortunes and favors that surpass any possible price tag.

  Caleb Grant knows everybody, but I don’t get the sense that anybody truly knows Caleb Grant.

  I can’t trust a person like that, and I don’t like Hunter being too close to him.