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“She is, and she’s on her way right now. She was kind enough to give us a little time alone to get you ready.”

“She’s a pretty good best friend,” I admitted.

“The best,” Mom said with a smile as there was a knock at the door and Basia popped in.

“Oh, Lexi, your hair looks gorgeous.” She sat a makeup bag on the table and opened it. There were so many brushes, color palettes, bottles and vials it made me dizzy.

“I want to look like me,” I warned her. “I mean it.”

“Have I ever led you wrong?” Basia said, smearing some lotion on my face.

“Maybe once or twice,” I groused. “What’s going on out there?”

“Our VIPs have arrived. The pope is already in prayer and preparation with Father Armando and Father Mulroney. The president and Shannon are chatting with the guests. The flowers arrived and are beautiful, the Secret Service are everywhere, and Rose is waiting to get the outdoor photos underway.”

She took a brush and started dabbing it into some makeup and then put it on my face. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay, I guess. Have you seen Slash?”

“I have not. Tito, Elvis, Xavier, and Hands are in the room with him, I believe. God knows what they’re doing in there.”

“Escaping out the small window?” I guessed.

“Ha-ha. Can you imagine those guys trying to fit through a small window? They’re getting into their tuxedos and making themselves look good is more like it.” She stared at my face, then made some extra brushstrokes across my eyelids. “This is such a good color on you.”

She swished, fussed, smeared, and smoothed, while Mom multitasked by getting dressed herself, observing Basia’s progress and making suggestions.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably fifteen minutes, Basia declared I was ready.

“Don’t look in the mirror yet,” she said. “Let’s get you in the dress so you can have the full effect.”

I put on my heels while Mom took the dress off the hanger and held it as I carefully stepped into it, sliding my arms into the sleeves. The zipper was hidden in the side seam. As I zipped it up, the dress fit snugly around my torso without restraining my breathing. Mom and Basia fussed with the skirt until it fit just right.

Mom then took the veil and carefully attached it to my hair. Basia spread out the material around my shoulders.

“The bullet holes don’t look that bad,” she commented. “Kind of gives it character.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I agreed.

Basia had me turn around and then gasped. “Wow, Lexi, you look breathtaking.”

Mom stepped back to look at me in all my finery, pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh, my heart just stopped. You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my mother.”

“She’s not.” Basia’s face was serious. “Lexi, you’re stunning. Come look for yourself.” She maneuvered me to a full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

I stood in front of the mirror, scarcely recognizing myself. Now that the bodice had been adjusted, it fit snugly, highlighting the curves of what little breasts I had. The back with the daring V landed an inch below my waistline and hugged the curve of my hips, looking remarkably sexy. I looked classy, elegant, and polished.

It was shocking.

“The dress is…perfect.” That was the word that best fit and one I’d never expected to use when referring to myself. Basia had done my makeup subtly, mostly neutral with a small bit of color on my cheeks, eyelids, and mouth, all of it complimentary, but not over-the-top. My grandma’s necklace, the diamond earrings Slash had given me, and my engagement ring winked and sparkled, looking as if they all belonged together.

The whole package was exactly me.

“Turn around and walk a little,” Mom instructed.

I did as she said. The dress was comfortable and easy to walk in, the train was small, and my shoes weren’t too stiff. But more importantly, I didn’t feel constricted, pinched, or itchy.