TWENTY-EIGHT REID

T WENTY -E IGHT

R EID

For the past six years, Reid had watched Say Yes to the Dress , critiquing every dress, admiring brides on their big day, and wishing her mom were going to be there on her big day. Most little girls grew up playing bride, either with the ever-popular sheer curtains hanging in their living room windows or the handy pillowcase standby.

Reid had done neither.

Being raised by a single father, she'd spent most of her time outside, digging in the dirt, making mountains in their backyard for her Tonka trucks to climb over, or watching whatever sporting event was on television. It wasn't until she'd started going to sleepovers that things changed for her. She learned how to be more girly, as her father called the changes in her. Reid absorbed everything she could from her friends' mothers. How to do her hair and makeup, how to take care of her body, and how to cook. She loved bringing home recipes to try for her dad. It wasn't until she was a teen, when she'd started to dream about her wedding, that she'd learned from her dad that he'd kept her mother's wedding dress.

Now, as she perused the racks, having gone from store to store and feeling no connection to any of the beautifully made gowns, Reid knew which dress would be perfect. "We should go get some lunch," she said to Melanie, whom she'd invited to spend the weekend with her, since Grayson was gone with Pearce.

"You haven't tried on a single dress, Reid. I know you have time, but still. Don't you want to get a feel for the style?"

Reid shook her head. "I already know which type I want to wear."

Melanie threw her hands up in dramatic fashion. "Now you tell me." She made her way over to the section Reid stood in front of. "Which one?"

"None of these?"

"What store, then?"

Reid bit her lower lip and shook her head again. Melanie's eyes went wide. Reid wasn't even going to try to guess what her friend was thinking.

"Reid Sullivan, if you tell me you're going to get married in a burlap sack, I will strangle you."

Reid stifled a laugh. "Heck no. It is vintage, though. Lacy. And in my dad's closet."

Melanie's eyes widened again, and then her head started moving up and down. "Yes! Why didn't we think of this from the beginning?"

"I don't know, but it feels right, ya know? Like, I keep looking at these dresses, and while they are lovely, they're not me. My mom's dress ..." Reid paused and looked at her ring. "It just makes perfect sense. She'd be with me in every sense of the word."

Melanie stepped forward and placed her hands on Reid's shoulders. "This is perfect. I think Grayson should wear navy. What do you think?"

It took Reid all of two seconds to agree. "He'll love it."

"Perfect. Now lunch. Let's go."

Thankfully, they were in Georgetown, where retail and food therapy were on top of their game for DC. They found a modern yet swanky restaurant that didn't require a reservation. They snagged an outside seat, under a wide umbrella. It was funny: even though it was May and the days were gorgeous, the propane heaters still lingered in the corners. Mostly for the evenings and nighttime crowds, where the chill in the air could ruin a good meal.

They ordered a bottle of white wine, grateful for the convenience of living in the city, where mass transportation was available. While they waited for their meal, they sipped on wine and snacked on bruschetta.

"I made a list of things you need to do and when," Melanie told Reid. "I've shared it with you."

Reid picked up her phone, opened the list, and read. "Thank you," she said. "It feels good knowing most of the important stuff is taken care of. Hiring the wedding planner was literally the best and easiest decision."

"Aside from saying yes to Grayson," Melanie pointed out.

"That was a no-brainer."

"How's the guest list coming?"

"I think we're up to one hundred. We still have time before we do our save-the-date magnets."

"When is your engagement photo session again?"

"In June. We finally decided on the Smithsonian Gardens."

Melanie nodded in agreement. "I swear, this has to be one of the best places to get married. Are you sure Grayson doesn't have a brother?"

Reid giggled. "Just Pearce."

Melanie's nose crinkled at the sound of his name. "He rubs me the wrong way."

"Why? He's a good guy. You guys always get along when you're together."

"Too well, sometimes. I don't know. He gives off brother vibes."

"And that's a bad thing?" Reid asked.

Melanie gave a half shrug and sipped her wine. "Do we get to pick our entrance music?" she asked.

"Yes. Grayson and I are going for a very laid-back vibe, with elegance, though. I want this wedding to be elegant and beautiful."

"Part of me is jealous. I mean, I've known from the beginning he was the one for you. And despite my many—and I do mean many—times of wanting to bash him in the head, I'm happy to be part of your special day. The other part of me is like, no way in hell would I get married. Live together, have babies and whatever, but the marriage thing ..." Melanie shuddered.

Reid reached for Melanie's hand and squeezed. "I think because of how your parents are, it's turned you off from marriage."

Melanie's parents had been married for ages, yet they fought constantly, slept in different bedrooms, and traveled without one another. She'd spent many nights crying on Reid's shoulder about her parents and didn't understand why they wouldn't get a divorce. All their children were grown and living away from home, so using them as an excuse was no longer valid.

"They're not the picture of what a marriage should be like, but still." Melanie paused to take a bite of their appetizer. "Marriage is a contract with unwritten rules where you read between the lines. Like, you're supposed to know what the other person wants and needs without them communicating. It doesn't sound appealing."

Reid promised herself she'd never look at marriage the way Melanie did. "Communication is key. Grayson and I have worked on this part of our relationship a lot. We've had to."

"The transplant changed him."

"For the better."

Melanie picked up her glass and held it out for Reid to clink. "Sad to say, but true."

After lunch, they scurried to their spa appointment. They opted for a couples massage, mostly so they could talk, while they both realized drinking a bottle of wine at lunch was probably not the smartest thing they could've done. They were sleepy and fighting to keep their eyes open, yet they still had a nail appointment to get to.

"Honeymoon?" Melanie mumbled groggily.

"Somewhere warm," Reid replied with the same vigor. "Grayson's picking. He's taking the job very, very seriously." She yawned.

"Do you approve his time off?"

Reid tried to laugh, but her masseuse hit a knot in her lower back that made her wince and her toes curl, and not in the good way she preferred. "Oh God," she moaned as hands kneaded and pressed into sensitive skin. "That's going to leave a bruise."

"Sorry," the masseuse said.

Melanie lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at her gal. "Don't let her scare you. I don't care about bruises."

"Sadist," Reid mumbled. "The last thing I need is to explain a bruise to Grayson. He'll worry something is wrong."

"I hadn't thought about that. I guess anything out of the ordinary is a red flag for him?"

Reid nodded as best she could. "He worries, and I'm okay with it. I'd rather let him question everything than ignore things. He's very aware since the surgery."

"Like I've said, you're lucky."

"I know," she said quietly as she closed her eyes and gave in to the massage.

The next day, when Grayson was due home in the early evening, Reid and Melanie took a rideshare out to Luther's house to ask about Reid wearing her mother's wedding dress. She expected him to say yes, but she also anticipated some hesitation and tears. Her father had never remarried and rarely dated, even though Reid had encouraged him to get back out there. She adored her father, in all his gruffness, and wanted to see him happy. At one time in her life, she'd tried to set him up with different teachers she'd had, purposely getting into trouble so he'd have to come in and talk to whichever teacher she'd felt would make a great partner for her dad. Her efforts failed. Every single time.

When the girls arrived at Reid's childhood home, her father's truck was parked in the driveway, and any hope she'd had that they might catch him off guard were dashed when they found him weeding the flower beds. They had been her mother's pride and joy. She was always planting, growing, and pruning her prized rosebushes, the flower bed full of pink peonies, and the hedgerow of dahlias, which needed peat moss to help keep the soil well drained. As Reid got out of the car, she saw the pinks, purples, and white of the dahlias and made a note to change the flowers she'd chosen for the wedding. She would honor her mother in every possible way.

"Hey, girls," Luther said as he stood. He took off his work gloves, wiped his hands on his pants, and gave them each a hug. He'd always treated Melanie like a daughter and had opened his home to her many times when her parents were at each other's throats. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Wedding talk, Pops," Melanie said, to which Luther groaned comically.

"Come on in, then. I put a pot of chili on the stove this morning. It's probably about done."

They followed Luther into the home, which indeed smelled like cayenne and chili peppers. His chili was famous and often requested at family gatherings. Reid thought it was because relatives wanted to make her dad feel included but had found out a few years ago it was because he had a secret ingredient. One he refused to divulge.

"Dad, this bouquet is beautiful." Reid spun the vase and marveled at the blue dahlias and cream-colored roses. "Where did you get it?"

"Uh, the front yard," he said sheepishly. "I didn't do anything special. Just snipped, added water, and stuck them in there."

"Pops, it's gorgeous. Don't let the bridal magazines catch on that a big ole softy like yourself is actually a floral designer."

Melanie and Reid giggled as Luther cringed.

He ladled out three bowlfuls of chili and set them on the table before going back for shredded cheese and sour cream. When the girls were younger, Luther used to grate the cheese himself until already-chopped everything began to appear in stores. Now, cooking was easy. Precut everything from onions to carrots, celery, and ginger had been a game changer for most families. They sat down, fixed their bowls the way they preferred, and dug in.

"So good, Pops," Melanie said. "I need the recipe."

Luther only shook his head. Reid figured he'd need to give it up eventually. Until then, she and Mel would have to be patient.

"What's the wedding talk we need to have?" Luther asked in between bites. Reid looked at her dad and saw him scrunch his nose. She couldn't tell if there was something wrong with his lunch, which she doubted, or if he thought there was something wrong with her wedding plans.

"We went dress shopping today," Reid told him. Luther's spoon paused midair before he set it down.

"What store? I'll write you a check before you leave."

"No store. At least not yet," she told him as she placed her hand on top of his. "The thing is, every dress I look at, I don't like. Not even enough to try on."

"I saw on Extra that women are getting married in pantsuits these days," he told her. Melanie choked on her chili and began coughing.

"Sorry," she wheezed out. "You caught me off guard, Pops."

"Daddy, I'd like to get married in Mom's dress."

The words soaked in, and Luther's eyes went from quizzical to happy as a smile spread across his face. "Are you sure?"

Tears clouded Reid's vision. "Yes, I am. When I think about wearing her dress, it brings me such joy. It's what I want."

Luther nodded, wiped his mouth on his napkin, and pushed his chair back. He left the dining room and returned minutes later with a large white box. He presented it to Reid. The clear plastic cover gave her a glimpse of her mother's dress. It would need to be cleaned, possibly hemmed, but it was in mint condition. It was the one thing Luther had never let Reid play with when she was younger.

"It's perfect."

Melanie came over to look at the dress. "You're going to be stunning in this dress, Reid. This is the right dress for you."

As Reid stared into the box, she imagined herself walking down the cherry blossom–covered aisle, carrying a bouquet of dahlias and roses from her mother's garden. She looked at her dad. "I have one more favor to ask."

"Anything," he said, visibly holding back his emotions.

"My bouquet," she started. "I know I already ordered it from the florist, but I'd like the flowers to come from Mom's garden. Her dahlias are always so pretty, and I'd like them in my bouquet. The roses, the florist can get from wherever, but I want a majority of my flowers to come from the garden."

"Honey, I think that's a great idea, but it's going to depend on a number of things," he told her. "We would need an early spring in order for them to be ready by your wedding date."

Reid's excitement plunged. By this time next year, she and Grayson would be married. So much of their ceremony depended on spring.

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Pops, what if you propagate and start them in the bedroom—turn it into a makeshift greenhouse or something?" Melanie asked with a shrug.

"That's a possibility. I'll ask one of the gals at work and see if they've done something like that before."

"Would one of these ladies be a date to the wedding?" Reid waggled her eyebrows at her dad, who turned a deep crimson.

"Eat your lunch, Reid." Luther picked up his spoon and shoveled a heap of chili into his mouth, avoiding all eye contact with the girls as they oohed him. Reid intended to send her father an invitation to the wedding, even though he was paying for everything, and would make sure it included a plus-one. All she wanted was for her father to be happy.