Peyton & Noah: A Beaumont Novella by Heidi McLaughlin

Author:Heidi McLaughlin
Language: eng
Format: epub

11

Peyton

By the time we stop at the third bridal store, or maybe it’s the fourth, could be fifth because I’ve lost count, I realize why couples elope. The stress of having everything right, everything perfect, is almost too much to handle. The words I’ve heard today are it’s too frilly, not enough lace, the back looks odd, you look frumpy, is enough to make me want to throw my hands up and say forget it. Maybe it’s the champagne talking and being unreasonable in my head. With each store, comes a plate of hors d’oeuvres from restaurants looking to land a contract from me, and champagne from the best vineyards wanting to supply our reception with their bottles. Because of my dad and who I’m marrying, the A-list treatment is real and all I want to do is pick a wedding dress with my mom and sister and decide on bridesmaids’ gowns that don’t look like they belong in an 80s prom magazine. Most of all, I just want to marry Noah, in front of our family and friends, in a simple ceremony.

I’m surrounded by mirrors, and my reflection tells me that I’m tired and have had way too much champagne. I want to eat, gorge myself on carbs and ice cream until my stomach revolts. I want everything unhealthy and not listed on the approved list that my uncle Xander gave me. He means well and is only giving me what I wanted when I asked him to help get me into shape for my wedding.

My body jerks to the left or right, depending on which way the saleswoman is pulling the gown I’m trying on. It’s not my favorite, but my mom fawned over it as soon as she saw it on the hanger. In fact, she’s loved just about every dress she’s picked out, as well as some of Elle’s choices. Each one I show her brings her to tears. I guess this is a mom thing to do, to cry at the sight of their daughters dressed in wedding gowns. I texted Noah and warned him I plan to be the same way when we have a daughter going through this. He replied, telling me how much he loves the idea that we’re going to have children.

I have yet to find the one. Not man, because I found him many years ago, but dress. In my mind, it exists. It’s out there, sitting on some rack, being passed by, waiting for me to try it on. I know I could have had a bespoke gown, designed, and made to my own specifications if I were to delay my wedding for a few more months. I’m not sure a dress is worth it. My parents are going to spend hundreds, if not thousands, on a dress that I’ll wear for a few hours, send off to dry-cleaning and have stored in a box. It seems frivolous and a waste of someone’s time.

Elle enters the dressing area and crinkles her nose.

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