Chapter 10: The Zipper

The bridal shop on Newbury Street has a fitting room the size of my whole apartment, with a pink velvet sofa and three tall mirrors.

At ten the next morning, I stood on a little carpeted podium in a dress the color of dried sage.

Cass sat on the sofa in her wedding gown with a glass of champagne and a veil pinned crooked.

A tray of my mini lemon cupcakes sat on the arm beside her, already half gone.

"You look like a goddess," she said.

"I look like a salad."

"A very expensive salad."

The seamstress, a small woman with pins in her mouth, tugged my hem and nodded.

Behind her, Lark came out of the second changing stall in the same sage green.

She had her braid pinned up, and the dress dipped low at the back, and she saw me see it.

I looked away so quickly that I stepped on my own hem.

"Careful!" the seamstress said around her pins.

"Sorry."

"You were staring at the mirror," Cass said.

"The mirror is very good."

Lark climbed onto the podium beside me.

Our shoulders almost touched.

In the mirror, the two of us stood side by side in matching green, and nobody who didn't know could have guessed.

I knew.

I could feel her hip through the satin an inch from mine, and the warmth traveled up my side.

"Zip me, please," Lark said, politely, to the room.

"The zip's stuck?" the seamstress asked.

"It's not closing all the way."

"Noor, you're the closest," Cass called, and drank her champagne.

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