"Yes."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Melanie. I'll be your consultant today."
I take the glass instead of acting like the eighteen-year-old that I am, and turn back around. If I'm old enough to get married on my own, vote, and smoke, then I should be old enough to legally drink; just the way I see it. "What reservation?"
She grabs the other glass. "The one I made last minute. Thank God for cancellations. Luck on your side is a good start."
I take a sip, forcing myself to have proper etiquette and not gulp even though I want to down the yummy drink. The size of this place and the glass I'm drinking out of versus a cheap plastic version tells me that I should be on my best behavior. I don't recall ever hearing about complimentary fancy beverages at the nearest David's Bridal back home, and I thought that place was legit in terms of being upscale. I'm a little afraid to check the price tag on something here.
"Come with me. I already pulled a few things based on my conversation with Miss Cambridge earlier. We can start there." She turns and finds the biggest opening between bars of dresses, leading us down the center. I hold the glass close to me, afraid to spill it on the beautiful fabric. Orange is not the new pink. I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be worn down the aisle and I don't wish to purchase more than one dress today. I'll forever be thankful I decided on flats before I left.
Tynleigh walks up beside me, looping her arm in mine with the rim of the glass sitting perfectly between her lips. "A sudden cancellation, huh? And on the same day you called?" I whisper, my brain and common sense finally kicking in. "At a place like this? The inventory alone is probably worth more than my parents’ house. I don't buy it, Cambridge."
"What's the point of working at a huge women's magazine busting my ass for a bitch of an editor if I can't use it to my advantage once in a while?" I squint my eyes. "Okay, fine. I may or may not have also promised to freelance a piece on your wedding with a couple of photos of you wearing a gown to go on their advertisement page coming up instead of a staged model. They're already clients of the magazine, so yes, I had a contact even though I'm not in the marketing department. Summer, June especially, is the favored time for weddings, so this will be a marketing boost."
Screw etiquette. I take a bigger gulp this time. "You want me to be in a magazine? For everyone to see?"
My nerves start firing off. "Now, now, sister. Don't tell me you're getting camera shy with the idea of having all of your clothes on in a still shot image. That would be insane. I just need your pretty little signature on a release form. It may actually be good for you. More to put on that resume for later." She winks. "But don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of all those awesome sisterly duties and do all the preparation for this small ceremony, wherever it ends up being, since your knowledge of New York is limited. All you have to do is show up and say 'I do'."
"Now we're having an actual ceremony? What happened to the courthouse? You're freaking me out a little. Small town girl. Remember?"
"Just something very small. I have to keep in mind the bigger picture and be the voice for the greater good of everyone involved besides you two love birds that have lost all sense of reason. It's quite disturbing actually." She pauses and takes another sip of her mimosa.
As slow as we're walking, we're bound to have people gossiping. "Anyway, I have a few owed favors I can cash in around this city. I'm damn good at what I do and I've neglected everything else in my life to make sure I am. But even with that, it's quite impossible to pull off anything most would consider an actual dream wedding in only a few days. That would take a witch and unfortunately I'm as mortal as they come."
"Whatever makes you happy. I take that back. I've seen your apartment. Whatever simple thing makes you happy. I was kind of always forced to accept the idea of a small church for all marital purposes. We’re talking wooden pews and original hardwood floors on a raised foundation white church house, its own cemetery, that still very much loves Sunday hymns and worships promptly from eleven to twelve. Contemporary was not a word used. My parents are as Baptist as they come. No dancing, no alcohol, and no receptions were ever allowed, so anything else and I feel like I want to hyperventilate. A judge, a room, and us were actually appealing ideas, but I am going to trust you. Weddings or planning of any sort is not my forte."
She stops, stopping me. Her eyes are staring forward, urging mine to follow. "This is step one and every girl’s dream: the dress."
A platform made of white and gray swirled marble becomes the strong focus of what I see, and mirrors. It's surrounded by mirrors: a large floor to ceiling one in the back and two matching in size angled toward the platform at each side, no doubt for a twirling effect. The powder blue fabric-covered couch facing the platform before us now makes sense as to why she stopped. "The dress, Kambry, is the most important part of a wedding. It's the first thing he'll see you in and what makes you feel more beautiful than you’ve ever felt before. No girl feels complete without a pretty dress, no matter how simple or extravagant it is. There is nothing wrong with a little tradition every now and then."
"You ready to get started?" The beautiful woman from earlier, about mid thirties I'd guess, is standing atop the platform, her hands linked in front of her. Her posture is perfect. I wouldn't be surprised if she could balance a stack of books on her head. She's standing with poise. She has class I've never before known.
I nod, glancing at Tynleigh as she grabs the strap of my purse, pulling it off my shoulder and the glass from my hand, leaving me empty-handed. "I'll be here when you're ready to come out."
"Okay," I say, a little anxiety slipping out with the word, and then make my way around the couch toward the platform.
Melanie turns and starts to walk toward the edge of one of the side mirrors, leading me. Once we round it, I realize it's a well-lit hall decorated with doors, all shut but the one at the end. She stops at the open door, allowing me to enter. The room is large, the colors again white and light blue, with wedding dresses hanging down the two longest walls, each on its own hook. It would be a beautiful backdrop for a photo that's for sure.
I breathe in, a little overwhelmed as I take it all in. "I'll be standing just outside of the door. When you're ready to fasten each one, just press this button on the wall and it'll turn on the light above the door that'll go off when I open it."
"Where do I start?"
"Always start by the mirror, sweetie. You're pretty busty to accompany that tiny waistline, which I was expecting from the questionnaire I took from your friend."
"Sister-in-law." I'm not sure why I felt the urge to correct her. It just felt right.
"Oh, okay. Well, as I was saying, if it's a little big in the waist or tight in the bust, that's okay. We have some talented seamstresses on staff. Anything consisting of fabric and stitching can be fixed, so don't let that alter your opinion."
"But what if I can't decide?"
She grabs the door as if she's about to pull it closed. "Oh, honey, you'll just know when you find the one; a lot like you probably experienced with the one that is your reason for being here."
She closes the door, leaving me standing in the middle of this huge room all alone. My eyes move through the lineup, scoping each one out. Some are puffy, some are sleek, some have tool and some have lace. Long sleeve, short sleeve, halters and strapless, trains are present and absent on some. There's beading and ruching, crystals and skirt lines of every sort.
My breathing is becoming heavier, my hands reflexively going for the ends of my hair to twirl. What apparently is every girl's dream come true is my worst nightmare. I don't know how to do this kind of stuff.
You'll just know, she says . . . I guess we'll see.
I make my way toward the tall body length mirror and slide off my shoes, my feet resting bare on the short but soft commercial grade carpet in the perfect shade of gray, almost a silver if that makes any sense at all. I imagine white carpet would have been a very bad idea in a high traffic area.
As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I unbutton and unzip my white shorts, before sliding them down my legs and stepping out. I lay them on the large, white, round ottoman behind me, and then follow behind with my quarter-length sleeve pink and orange chevron button-down blouse. All that remains is my orange camisole, but not for long.
I stare at the first dress hanging beside me, and then as instructed grab it. It's stark white with a sweetheart neckline, Swarovski crystals lining it, the bodice long and the skirt branching at the thighs into a flowy mermaid bottom. "Do not think about the price. Do not think about the price." My eyes remain closed as I whisper the chant, willing it to help ease the anxiety building inside of me. "This is for Sax. Dammit this is for me. This is for us."
I step inside the top of the dress carefully and pull it up my body, positioning the top of the neckline to cover my boobs. It has built in cups, so I quickly remove my bra and reposition it, never looking at myself in the mirror. As soon as the button is pressed the door opens, just as she said it would, and she walks inside. "Turn around."
I do as she says and stand quietly as she slowly raises the zipper up my back, starting from my tailbone. "This one is on the simple side, but elegant, and it’s beautiful on you."
I wonder if she's trained to say that or if she really believes it. "Thank you."
"What size shoe are you?"
"Six."
She grabs a box and squats with her legs closed, grabbing the back of my right heel. "Use me for balance. Lift your foot."
She slides both heels on my feet, one after the other, giving me a few inches of height. "Come on. You have someone waiting to see and we have a lot left. I’m not rushing you, just informing."
I follow her in the direction we originally came until we get to the platform. At her motion, I step up and walk to the center to face Tynleigh. "Well, what do you think?"
The shutter button sounds on her phone and then she looks up with a smile on her face. "Oh, I can't wait till he sees this."
"Who, Saxton? I thought the idea was for him not to see. Isn't that why he's having boy time with Bryant instead of being here?"
"Only on the dress, but this isn't the one. I can feel it in my gut; therefore, I can toy with him."
"You already know what it looks like?"
"No, but this isn't it."
"You don't like it?"
"Oh it's beautiful, and fits your body like it was made for it, but just call it a girl's intuition. This one isn't it." She sets the empty champagne flute on the side table beside the couch, next to mine, and stands, before walking toward me. "But you can still have a little fun.
"What do you mean?"
She holds out her arm toward me, palm up, above her head. "Always test drive before we purchase, love. Take her for a little spin."
I smile. I feel like we're bonding and becoming more comfortable with each other with every hour that passes, and it makes me feel better, like she is okay with me entering into their family.
"Like this?" I place my hand on hers; clamping it lightly, and then turn slowly like the ballerina in a music box, making a full turn.
"Yes. Do it again. But this time I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as you do and not at me."
"Okay." When my eyes connect with the mirror I look at myself for the first time since I put the wedding dress on. It stops me at half turn, stealing the very breath I was about to take before I could inhale the air. "Wow."
"That's all you, girl. Still think you're a hard six?"
She's staring at me through the mirror, our eyes locked. My eyes start to moisten, causing me to blink rapidly to avoid crying like a baby. I like her. She doesn’t treat me like I’m ten years younger. She treats me like I’m her sister, whether by blood or law. I really like her. I always wanted a sister; a Meredith that never had to go home. In a sense I feel like that's what Tynleigh is becoming. She's a sister that arrived almost two decades late. "I feel like a princess. Anyone that looks like royalty has to at least be a hard eight, right?" I laugh. "I guess even porn stars can feel pretty and classy in a formal dress."
She moves around the skirt, training it manually on where to lie, and then stands. "Oh, babe, don’t talk like that. You're not a porn star. You're just a girl coming into womanhood and living out a dirty fantasy with the man you love. One day this phase will fade and the two of you will leave behind a legacy for others. You won't be the porn stars; you'll be Saxton and Kambry—the two that made it against the odds—just like you are now. Besides, there's nothing wrong with distressing a perfect piece a little. It adds beauty and character that others can enjoy for years. Remember, you set the value for what others see in you and no one else."
She fixes my bust area and tousles my hair in a few places, then moves from in front of me. "Don't think. Just look at the person in the mirror. What do you see?"
"A girl. She's giving off a slight glow. Her eyes are bright. Her body may not be the proportion of most but it's the perfect proportion for her. She's happy. She's beautiful. She's a ten."
She grins at me. "And she's the future Mrs. Saxton Maverick Cambridge. She's my sister. And you're damn right she's beautiful. My brother doesn't pick ugly girls. I'll even tell you a little secret from an unbiased person. You're the prettiest one yet."
My heart is so full it's working overtime not to burst. "I'm kind of liking this dress more now."
"Well, then you're one dress closer to being prepared to adequately handle the one you're meant to stand at that alter in. When you're ready for it is when your heart will instruct your body to put it on. Until then, we will model the runners up. Now shoo. I have a little brother to taint with pretty pictures." She smiles at me as she does the hand motions along with the instructions for me to get lost, so I do.
Melanie starts walking the second I make it to her, as she's trained to do I'm sure, staying back until I'm ready for her. This is more fun than I originally thought it would be, and we've only tried on one so far. If this is any indication on what a life in this family will be like then I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
I walk down that hall for about the eighth time in a new dress. My stomach is growling and I still haven't had any new or stronger feelings from dress to dress. I've made it a pattern to not look until I get on the platform, giving Tynleigh her moment to critique her likes and dislikes, just before taunting me with text message responses from Saxton on the dress before. Each one is an unfiltered threat that he's one photo away from coming down here, but then she dishes it right back, threatening to run away with the bride if he does. It's pretty humorous, getting this look inside of their relationship, especially when it's in regards to me. It makes me feel special.
The second I step around the mirror clapping occurs, followed by a fingers-in-the-mouth whistle. My cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. As I close the distance between us, a petite girl with a short blonde bob around her age is standing close enough I can tell they aren't strangers. "This is the one. No picture this time."
"Do I dare ask what makes this one worthy enough to be called the one?" I ask sarcastically, stopping when I get to my place on the platform, as I have every other time. She hands her phone to the girl next to her and then comes toward me.
Her eyes begin at my neck and slowly take in the entire dress. I stand impatiently, waiting for her review. "Because I can picture it in my head like a movie and it fits perfectly. That tells me it's the one. It's simple like you wanted, yet classic, nothing overdone or missing. It fits your body like a custom tailored dress, which proves it was waiting for you. It's sexy but elegant at the same time. Lace can go one of two ways: innocent or sexual, the color doing the telling. You may not be a virgin, Kambry—as if that even matters—but you're still a good girl, and you deserve for your dress to be a reflection on the outside of the person on the inside. The nude underlay from breasts to thighs keeps it from making too bright of a white statement, or too much sexuality, giving it a vintage feel. Meg, come
here," she says, a little louder than she was just speaking.
The blonde previously standing beside her walks forward, stepping up onto the platform. "Kambry, this is Meg, my best friend.” She grins at her. “We met in college and the bitch couldn’t live without me. The rest is history. Her parents have a house in the Hamptons that she's going to let us use for the ceremony."
Now I don't know much about New York, or anywhere for that matter, but any normal person with a television has heard of the Hamptons: a place for the rich of New York to go and play. "Wow. Seriously? It's nice to meet you, by the way."
"Of course." Meg smiles. "When Tynleigh says she needs an emergency location for family, my place is all yours. She's saved me on enough college exams that it's really just a payback. I figured it was meant to be anyway. My parents will be out of town for two weeks."
"Thank you. Both of you." My eyes well up, filling to the brim with tears attempting to break free. I've never really experienced this kind of hospitality from someone that barely knows me.
"Uh ugh. Do not get makeup on this dress, Kambry." I glance at Tynleigh. She's as serious as a heart attack, not cracking an inch of a smile. Meg is holding a laugh back.
I begin to fan my face, clearly emotional. Am I really about to get married? This is amazing, yet insane. I'm about to marry the man of my dreams. I'm about to do something for me finally. I'm about to make one of the biggest decisions of my life, all on my own. This is as real as it gets. I laugh at her non-faltering expression. "Sorry. When is this wedding, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Not at all. It's Sunday. Will that be a problem for you?"
"Let me check my schedule." I open my imaginary planner and turn the pages, stopping on the appropriate day. My finger trails down the time slots in midair. "Nope, looks like I'm free all day."
"Funny," Tynleigh says. "At least someone has a personality about her. You're going to need it to spend an eternity with my brother. Bless your soul."
"Will this one be it?" Melanie returns from her corner, checking out the dress on my body.
Sex Sessions: After The Cut (Camera Tales #2) Page 14