Page 38 of Best Woman

“So, what are we thinking? Updo?” In the mirror, I can see the hairstylist Mom hired to get us ready for the wedding eyeing me critically.

I’m seated at the vanity in Mom and Randy’s giant marble bathroom while Mom lounges on a chaise in the bedroom, preferring to have her makeup applied while she naps.

I’m supposed to check every five minutes to ensure the makeup artist isn’t taking any creative liberties with her face.

“Uh, maybe we could do something more simple. A nice blowout?” I’m worried about what a Boca hairstylist’s idea of a sophisticated updo will look like, imagining something halfway between pageant and politician’s wife.

“Some beachy waves?” Jessica deflates behind me but dutifully pulls out a spray bottle and a blow-dryer, looking resigned.

As she gets to work, Daytona replies to my text asking how her trip to Atlanta’s going, explaining that she’s decided to spend an extra week down south. A new text arrives as I’m responding, and I swipe back to my inbox, delighted to find it’s from Kim.

I’m gonna look so stupid in this dress. What color even is this?

burnt sienna, duh

Oh, of course, how could I forget. You’re so lucky you get to wear black.

idk i kinda liked branching out last night, that dress was fab

I certainly enjoyed taking it off of you.

BTW, I have this work thing next week, a launch party for some new celebrity fragrance. Could be lame, could be fun. Want to come with?

Is she asking me on a date?

r u asking me on a date?

Are you saying yes?

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

Yes!!!!

Mom appears, makeup flawless, saying something I can’t hear over the blow-dryer and the butterflies flapping around my stomach. She’s holding a Nordstrom shopping bag, which she hands me with a hopeful look.

There’s a lacy black bra inside.

Please, she mouths.

I roll my eyes but nod.

“PLEASE KEEP YOUR HEAD STILL,” the stylist shouts behind me.