The Ex (The Boss 4)

“Let’s try it on?” Pia asked, a note of hope in her tone.

I realized I hadn’t been reacting at all, and that to the outside observer, I might look like I was in the wrong kind of shock. I managed to nod enthusiastically. “This is… It’s…”

I burst out crying, and four sympathetic women rushed to comfort me.

“It’s early days still,” Pia tried to soothe me. “We can make changes.”

“No, no, I’m not crying because—” A hiccup interrupted me. “I’m crying because it’s perfect.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have done the big dress reveal the week I was ovulating. Because hormones.

“Oh my god, she’s going to make me cry,” Pia said quietly.

Holli laughed. “I’ve only ever seen her get this emotional over clothes.”

“Hey, Soph? Maybe you want to try it on, before the designer has a heart attack?” Deja suggested, and I stepped back, carefully wiping my eyes and silently thanking Urban Decay for their astonishingly waterproof makeup.

“Yes, of course.” I laughed through my tears at how absurd it was to cry over a freaking dress.

Pia pulled the screen back in place so I could wriggle out of my jeans and sweater and put on the strapless bra I’d brought.

“Is this the one you’re going to be wearing on the day?” Pia asked.

Huh. I should have thought of that. “No… Can I bring the actual one to the final fitting?”

“Yeah, it should be no problem,” she assured me. She took the dress off the form and helped me into it. Holli had to come around and help, and then, my mom did, too. Between four pairs of hands—because Deja got in on the frantic dressing, too—I somehow ended up buttoned into the most gorgeous gown I would ever wear.

Pia turned me toward a trifold mirror in the corner, and helped me step onto a short platform. It was a little tricky. Oh god. The steps in the Terrace Room.

That fear fled once everyone stood back and I saw myself. I’d tried to fool myself every step of the way that I hadn’t really succumbed to wedding culture. I wasn’t taking Neil’s name, I wasn’t wearing white, no one was walking me down the aisle. That was surely radical enough, right? But it had been getting harder to convince myself that I wasn’t into tradition. Seeing myself in the dress, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. I was thrilled as hell that I was going to be a bride.

But I didn’t regret deviating from the traditional color choice, even when Mom said, “I just don’t understand what’s wrong with white.”

“White buys into a purity culture myth that I’d rather not perpetuate,” I said, tilting my head and carefully smoothing my hand over the incredible beadwork on the bodice. “And it washes me out.”

“How does a wedding dress perpetuate anything?” Mom grumbled.

“Your daughter is going to have her pictures in a lot of society pages,” Pia said, frowning and tucking something at the back of the dress. “I need some pins.”

“Society pages?” Mom’s brow furrowed. “Your grandma put an engagement announcement in the Mining Gazette, did you want a copy to use in New York?”

“That’s not what she means, Ms. Scaife.” Deja grabbed a copy of Vanity Fair from atop a low shelf near Pia’s drawing desk. She flipped it open to show her an example. “People in New York society are pretty gossipy. So, stuff like a billionaire’s wedding gets reported on.”

“Emma’s wedding was,” I told her, not that it made the idea any better.

“Really?” Mom made a “huh” face. “I didn’t realize Neil was famous enough that anyone would be interested.”

“He’s not a household name, but people who follow business, publishing, that kind of thing, know who he is. And his ex-wife was really involved in a lot of high profile stuff in the city.” It made me a little sick to my stomach to use the word “ex-wife” while I was standing there in my wedding dress.

Pia knelt at my feet, sticking pins in the hem, and I was looking down at her when Holli said, “And, with that book coming out, people will definitely be interested.”

It’s good that bionic laser eyes aren’t a thing yet. Because I would have fucking incinerated her.

“What book?” Mom asked.

I hoped it wasn’t the weight of the dress that was making the room spin, because that would be inconvenient on the day. “Um, I’ll tell you about it in the car.”

When Pia was done with a few minor tweaks, she helped me out of the dress. I was reluctant to take it off; I wanted my wedding to be today.