The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,57

foot to shut her up. Of course, she knew what Libby was thinking. The dress was the least of Knickers’ concerns at this point.

The employee emerged from the back, her face beaming. “Your dresses are in the dressing rooms. If you’ll follow me . . .”

Libby went into a room by herself while the employee followed Megan into the larger dressing room.

“Did you bring the proper undergarments?”

Megan opened her purse and pulled out the bag with the strapless bra. Her mother had given it to her before they got to the store, presuming she’d forget one. It annoyed Megan that Knickers was right, even though there was a reason for it—Megan had packed thinking she wouldn’t need one.

Once she had her bra on, the employee handed her a crinoline slip and Megan hooked the side, staring in the mirror in confusion. “I didn’t think my slip was this full.”

“This was the one purchased.”

Megan let it go. She had bought the dress eight months ago; maybe she’d forgotten.

The woman unzipped a bag and told Megan to lift her arms so she could put the dress over her head. “But face the wall first. I want you to turn and look in the mirror, so you can get the full effect.”

Megan did as she was told, surprised that the dress felt much heavier than she remembered. When she turned to face the mirror, she realized why.

“This isn’t my dress.”

The employee’s eyes widened in fear. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vandemeer. I’m afraid it is.”

What did that mean? “No. It most certainly is not.” Megan’s voice was firm as she took in the ball-gown-style dress covered in silk fabric roses and half a million crystals. It looked like fairies had puked all over it.

“Let me try to get this zipped up, and I’ll check on it.” The woman sounded panicked as she fought the zipper. “If you could take a deep breath.”

Megan took a deep breath as the woman continued to struggle behind her. “I look just like Cinderella gone wrong.” Then it hit her. Surely, her mother didn’t . . . “What size is this dress?”

“A six.”

Megan picked up the skirt in her hands, ready for war. “Open the door.”

The woman held it open, looking like she wanted to crawl under a chair as Megan stormed out into the viewing area.

“Oh!” her mother squealed when Megan emerged. “The dress is gorgeous!”

Gram, who’d leaned her head back in the chair, let out a soft snore.

Libby stood on the small stage, her eyes alight with horror, although Megan wasn’t sure which dress had induced that reaction. Her friend was wearing a pale pink ball gown with a full crinoline skirt.

“What are these?” Megan asked, dropping the skirt with one hand and waving between Libby and herself.

Her mother looked surprised by her question. “Your dresses.”

“But these aren’t the dresses we ordered!”

Gram jerked awake. “What did I miss?”

Her mother shook her head in confusion. “I told you I decided to have a princess theme.”

“You said that was for the decorations!”

“I presumed you realized it meant your dress as well.” She narrowed her eyes. “Turn around. Why isn’t your dress zipped all the way?”

“Maybe because you ordered a size smaller than I actually wear!”

Her mother looked exasperated. “Most brides diet before their weddings, Megan!”

“Well, I’m not getting married!” Megan shouted.

As if on a puppeteer’s orders, their mouths dropped open in shock.

“What?” her mother asked.

Libby rushed toward Megan and hugged her arm. “She meant she’s not getting married in this dress.”

But Megan was done. The dress was the last straw. “No, Mom. That’s not it at all.”

Libby tugged on Megan’s arm and pulled her toward the dressing rooms.

Megan resisted. “No, it’s time to tell her the truth.”

A cell phone rang, and Megan’s mother rolled her eyes and reached into her purse. “I don’t have time for hysterics. Libby, try to talk some sense into her while I take this call from the caterer.” She stood and walked out the front door.

“Megan, I really need to talk to you,” Libby said in a low, insistent voice.

Gram, who had been taking in the whole scene like it was prime-time reality-TV drama, watched them intently but didn’t say a word.

Libby tugged again and Megan let her drag her into a large fitting room at the back of the store, where there were a couple of chairs and a full-length, three-paned mirror.

“What are you doing?” Libby whisper-shouted.

“I’m doing what I should have done in the first place. It’s time to tell her the truth.”

Libby