~~Julie~~
We’re at a bridal boutique, and Carolina’s excitement could power a small city. Baby Valeria is strapped to her chest, a tiny, sleeping bundle of calm amidst the chaos her mother is stirring up.
Carolina jumps from one gown to the next. Her enthusiasm is contagious, even though I’m already sweating from the sheer force of it.
“Isn’t Valeria heavy?” I ask, watching as the baby shifts against her chest. “Are you sure you don’t need a break?”
She waves me off. “No. You get used to it. It’s like she isn’t there.”
“Oh.”
Before I can say anything else, Carolina turns to me. She places a hand on my stomach.
“You’re already showing!” she exclaims. “Know the sex yet?”
I smile. “No, I was thinking we could work a surprise reveal into the wedding.”
“Ohhhh!” she squeals. Her face lights up. “That’s magnificent. The family’s going to go ballistic.”
“Careful so you don’t wake her,” I say, nodding toward Valeria, who stirs at the sound of her mother’s excitement.
“Don’t worry. When she’s fed, she sleeps like a rock.”
The sales attendant, a young woman with the demeanor of someone who’s seen too many bridal meltdowns, clears her throat. “Um, would you like to get started on the dresses?”
Carolina doesn’t miss a beat. She points at a massive ball gown with enough tulle to engulf a small car. “That one is great!”
I eye it warily. “Too large.”
“Too large?” She looks at me like I’ve just insulted the sacred institution of marriage itself. “Wedding dresses are traditionally round and difficult to walk in. I tripped on my wedding day.”
“That’s not exactly encouraging.”
“It was fun!”
The sales attendant interjects, clearly eager to steer this runaway train. “We have an extensive collection of fitted dresses, if that’s what you’d prefer, Ms. Jenkins.”
“Sure. That would be wonderful.”
“Oh no,” Carolina says, clutching her chest as if she’s been shot. “So you’re not going to look like a balloon on your wedding day?”
“I hope not.”
She pouts, disappointed. “The steady decline of round brides.”
“Right,” I say, turning to the sales attendant. “We’ll look at those dresses now.”
As we follow the attendant to another section of the store, Carolina is already on to her next topic. “Have you thought of a color for your bridesmaids?”
“Bridesmaids?”
“Yeah! I’m married, so I’m out of the list. But there’s Isabel, Sofia… one of my elder sisters isn’t married. Andrea. You met her at the Christmas Eve dinner.”
“I did.”
“And then we’re going to have a number of cousins.”
“Cousins?”
“I was thinking ten bridesmaids. Is that enough?”
“Ten?”
I blink at her, wondering if I’ve somehow wandered into a reality show. Ten bridesmaids? Who even knows ten people well enough to ask them to do that? My brain spins as I picture myself standing at the altar surrounded by a small army in matching gowns.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice even. “That’s… a lot.”
“You think so?” she asks, genuinely confused. “It’s just the basics, really. Oh, and we can’t forget little Valeria! She can be a flower girl. Imagine her toddling down the aisle.”
“She’s not even walking yet.”
“She will be by then! I’ll train her. It’ll be adorable.”
I’m beginning to regret saying no to Luke’s Vegas plan. We could have eloped, just the two of us, no bridesmaids, no flower girls, no cousins I barely know. But no, I’d convinced myself that his family deserved a celebration after everything they’d been through. Now, as Carolina’s plans spiral further out of control, I feel like I’ve shot myself in the foot.
“Julie, you’re going to need a theme,” Carolina continues. “And maybe matching robes for all the bridesmaids for the pre-ceremony photos. Oh! And custom slippers! What size are you? I’ll make a note.”
“I don’t-”
“Never mind, I’ll guess.” She grins. “This is going to be amazing.”
The sales attendant gently interrupts. “Here we are. These are some of our most popular fitted designs.”
The gowns are stunning, all sleek lines and delicate embellishments, but I barely have a chance to appreciate them before Carolina swoops in, grabbing a strapless number with a plunging neckline and holding it up against me.
“This one!” she declares. “It’s sexy, but not too sexy. Lucas will lose his mind.”
“I’m not sure-”
“Try it on!”
The next half hour is a blur of satin, lace, and Carolina’s relentless commentary. She critiques every dress like she’s hosting a fashion show, alternating between dramatic gasps and exaggerated sighs.
“Too plain.”
“Too shiny.”
“Too tight. You’re pregnant, not competing in a bodybuilding competition!”
I finally step out in a fitted gown with intricate beading and a modest train. It’s elegant, understated, and-most importantly-it doesn’t make me feel like I’m drowning in fabric.
Carolina’s eyes widen. “Oh, wow.”
“You like it?”
“It’s… okay.”
“Okay?”
She shrugs. “I mean, it’s not a ball gown, but you look beautiful.”
I glance at the mirror, turning slightly to see the back. The intricate beading catches the light, shimmering as I move. For the first time all day, I feel like myself. The weight of the dress is reassuring, the fitted bodice hugging to my curves. I feel elegant, refined, and most importantly, I feel like a bride.
“I love it,” I say, and for once, Carolina doesn’t argue.
“Alright,” she concedes. “But we’re still doing the surprise baby reveal at the reception, right?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yes, Carolina. We’re still doing the surprise baby reveal.”
She beams. “Perfect. This is going to be the wedding of the century!”
By the time the tailor has taken my measurements and assessed the dress’s current fit to make necessary adjustments and alterations, I’m more than eager to head home. Carolina assures me she’ll begin preparations for the bridesmaids dresses, and all I can do is sigh in relief.
When it’s all over and I’ve changed back into my regular clothes, Carolina links arms with me on the way out. “We should do lunch sometime,” she says.
“Yeah, we should.”
We hug, and I watch her disappear into the crowd outside, heading for her car.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I reach for my phone in my bag and notice a missed call from Ryan. A pang of irritation shoots through me. Why does he always manage to ruin a good day? I toss the phone onto the passenger seat, making a mental note to block his number when I get home.
As I drive, the phone starts ringing again. His name flashes on the screen. I ignore it. The ringing stops, and a message notification pings.
When I finally reach home, Javier is sitting in the living room, his reading glasses perched on his nose as he flips through a thick book. I wave at him absently, sinking into the couch.
The message from Ryan reads: ‘I really need to speak with you. It’s urgent, concerning my trial. I promise this will be the last time you’ll hear from me.’
I roll my eyes, debating whether to block his number outright, but curiosity tugs at me. Against my better judgment, I type back: ‘What is it?’
The response is almost immediate-a phone call. My thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating. Javier glances at me over his book, his gaze curious but silent. I sigh and answer.
“Julie,” Ryan says.
“Make this quick.”
“I, uh… It’s about Emily’s charges against me. I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”
“It’s all over the internet. Hard to miss.”
He sighs. “She’s claiming I forced her into a relationship. That she wasn’t pregnant and didn’t lie to me about any baby.”
“Maybe she wasn’t pregnant. Have you thought about that?”
“That’s not the point!” His voice rises, desperate. “The point is she lied. She made me hope. I’ve died a thousand deaths since the day I found out.”
His words linger in the air, but they don’t elicit the sympathy he’s fishing for. I lean back into the couch, my voice steady. “How about you just give her the money she wants?”
“I won’t,” he snaps. “She’s ruined me enough. I will fight her to the death if I have to.”
“Ryan,” I say, my patience thinning, “as much as I sympathize, there’s nothing I can do. Talk to your lawyer. See the best way forward.”
A pause, then a shift in his tone. “Actually, there is something you can do. That’s why I called.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The time Emily helped you film evidence for the divorce trial. You had something against her, didn’t you?”
I pause. “Yeah, the baby that wasn’t yours.”
“No. You had evidence. Solid evidence.”
“Why do you think I did?”
“Because Emily is smart,” he says. “She’d never agree to be blackmailed without evidence.”
I shake my head, exasperated. “Whatever I had was between Emily and me.”
“Julie-”
“Ryan, I wish you luck with your trial. But please, don’t call me again.”
I hang up before he can respond, tossing the phone onto the coffee table with more force than necessary.
When I look up, Javier is watching me. His book is closed, his gaze steady but unreadable. I feel my cheeks flush.
“What?”
He doesn’t say anything, just continues looking at me with those piercing eyes that always seem to see more than I’m willing to reveal. I grab my phone again, scrolling through social media to avoid his scrutiny.
The headlines are relentless: ‘Emily Cohen’s Emotional Speech at Women’s Rights Convention Goes Viral.’ ‘Pre-Trial Begins Tomorrow for Ryan O’Brien and Emily Cohen in Landmark Case.’
I click on a video, watching Emily standing at a podium, tears streaming down her face as she recounts her “trauma.” The crowd cheers her on, their applause thunderous.
I set the phone down, suddenly nauseated.
Javier clears his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts. He’s holding his phone now, pretending to scroll, but I can feel his attention on me.
“Javier,” I say.
He raises his head, waiting.
“Do you think I’m wicked?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “Why would you ask that?”
I shrug, forcing a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Just wondering.”
He sets his phone down. “No, I don’t think you’re wicked. But I do think you’re carrying a lot of weight that you should let go of.”
The words hit me harder than I prepared myself for. I look away. “That’s poetic,” I say.
“It’s the truth,” he replies.
I nod, unable to respond. My gaze drifts to the window, where the sky is darkening. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m content with silence. I let it wrap around me, simply staring and staring outside the window with absolutely nothing on my mind.