2. Clarissa

“And two eggrolls for my love,” Tyree says before leaning over and kissing my lips. I take the delicately wrapped treasure and bring it to my nose. Maybe it was the hour we spent indulging in the worst food selection, or maybe it’s my obsession with spices and julienne-sliced vegetables that have been wrapped in a food blanket before being deep-fried that makes this a momentous occasion.

“Do you smile like that at me?”

I stop unfolding the paper and look up into those beautiful amber eyes. “Like you’re my food?”

He leans back in his seat, and I tuck my legs under myself on the couch. My mouth is watering, and even as my fingertips are warmed with the promise of something delicious, I give Tyree my attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“Maybe we should just forget this whole plan and go to the courthouse. We wouldn’t have to search for menus, flowers, or goodie bags. When the hell did guests start getting goodie bags for celebrating your nuptials?”

He scoots closer to me, leaning his face next to mine. “It would be just you and me,” he says, and his smile is slow but bright.

“Oh—” I start to say but stop.

When I say I’ve been imagining planning my wedding since I was five, that is no exaggeration. I have a bible, for lack of a better word, of every detail. Colors, bridesmaid dresses, rugs, invitations, and envelopes all picked out because I shall not turn into a Susan. Poor thing was licking toxic envelopes and died. Imagine all that planning and hard work only to die trying to save a few bucks. Sure, it was an episode of Seinfeld, but it still feels relevant.

“I see those wheels spinning. What if we did a big reception?”

He thinks this is a viable compromise and that I’ll be okay with this change.

“Tyree.”

He pulls me to his chest, scooting even more into my space, and holds me. “I just want to get to the end of our story,” he says low in my ear, and my stomach drops.

“Forget I said anything. Let’s eat. I know you’re dying for an egg roll.”

He pulls back but leaves one hand still caressing my neck, his thumb sliding along my jaw. I nod, and he leans down, giving me another kiss before he’s back on his side of the couch and talking about his brothers. They just graduated high school and will be off to college soon.

The whiplash of his thoughts and where he takes our conversation is enough to make my neck hurt, but the swirling tendrils of deep-fried spices wafting under my nose are enough to make me drop it. We talk about everything and nothing as I devour the perfect egg rolls.

“I need to get an early start. Don’t stay up too late.” Tyree stands and gives me a kiss.

“I’m not far behind you. I have a few ideas I want to jot down in the book,” I say, looking over to the thick binder filled to the brim with all my wildest desires.

He smiles in a way I’ve grown used to—a slow and even rise of both cheeks with his brows slanted in a how cute expression before he walks to the back bedroom with a chuckle. I wait a few minutes, and once the door has clicked shut, I grab the binder.

I run my fingers along the edges of purple and lavender lace. The hot glue gun never met a challenge I couldn’t conquer. My face is bright and cut into a perfect circle transposed over my perfect dress walking down the runway. Okay, it’s not me walking down the runway, but with my face glued over the model’s, it’s really hard to tell where she begins and I end…mostly.

I flip the pages to the groom and groomsmen, dressed in perfectly tailored suits with handkerchiefs that match the flower arrangements. Their faces are all blurred out because it’s less about who they will be and more about the essence of my vision. On the next page, the bride and bridesmaids are lined up. My best friend Marissa and my cousin Sasha’s faces are cut and glued into position perfectly.

I’ve known who was going to be in my bridal party since I was in grade school. Flipping to the end, I jot down a few ideas on my sticky pad. I saw these cute silver picture frames I thought might make a good gift for the goodie bags. We have seventy-five guests, so not the most, but still quite a bit to manage. It’s six months until our big day, and even with all my planning, there are so many details to work over. My ringing phone gyrates on the table, and I reach to pick it up.

“Hello,” I answer, leaning back to cap my pen.

“How’s my girl?” Marissa asks, and I smile. “Tell me you’re not making notes in your wedding bible.”

I stare at the book and slide it closed.

“Okay.”

“Oh my gosh. Lis, I want you to take one day where you’re not focused on floral arrangements or the difference between Lavender 324 and 325.”

I loll my head against the back of the couch and let out a breath. “I just want it to be perfect, Rissa.”

“I know, and that’s what makes it so sweet, but girl, let up every now and then,” Marissa, or Rissa as I’ve been calling her since third grade, says for the millionth time, and I puff out my cheeks, releasing my breath with a groan. She laughs before moving forward, which I am grateful for.

“Well, I didn’t call to tell you about yourself, but I do have wedding-related news.”

I sit up straight and move my book to the side.

“The fabric we thought was on backorder for the next twelve months just got shipped!” she screams in my ear, and I yelp in response. I quiet myself and look back at the bedroom door before I continue.

“Oh my gosh, this is fantastic!” I whisper and dance in my seat.

“I know! I called in a favor.”

While my dream was always the perfect slice of wedding cake, Marissa dreamt of designing fashion for future runways. We were inseparable as kids, but when it came time for college, she went off to London to study under the world-renowned Claudia of Claudia Enterprises. She was gone for five years, and I’m still shocked when she mentions a name or event she’s attending.

So when I cried on her shoulder about my perfect fabric being out of stock and how I should have purchased it in high school like I wanted, she started calling in favors and making sure my day would be as perfect as I dreamt. Although all her attempts fell through, she managed to convince me this would be a perfect time to move in a new direction. She was always going to design my dresses, but she really showed up for me in a big way.

“Rissa!” I whine in a loud sob.

As an only child, I never knew what it was like to have a sister, but Rissa is my sister. When we were growing up, we would tell everyone we were twins with different moms and dads. Clarissa and Marissa. If you saw her, you saw me, and vice versa.

“Don’t cry, Lis.” The strain in her voice is thick. She’s always hated it when I get upset. Her default nature as an empath means the slightest change in someone’s emotion will always register with her.

“I love you, Rissa.” I try to hold in the tears because I know it’s going to make her cry, but I’m unable to stop them from flowing.

“Ugh, if you don’t get off my phone crying.”

We laugh, and I sit back, folding my legs tighter before speaking. “I can’t believe you got the fabric.”

“Oh my gosh, I should have waited to tell you. It’s not a big deal. Lauren decided to use a different fabric that will make his Summer collection something worth talking about.”

“Lauren?”

“You know Ralph prefers Lauren. Anyway, are we still meeting up to go over the goodie bags?”

“How you manage to get shy when all your big celebrity friends are mentioned is still a surprise to me.”

“I promise you, they shit like the rest of us. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

She’s told me more stories than I thought possible of how regular celebrities can be and how the lore of that title means nothing after a while.

“Oh, before I forget, I need you and the girls to come to the studio for final measurements. I’m making your dress, but the team is making the others. If I tried to make every dress, there wouldn’t be enough time,” she says.

“Thank you so much. This is going to be perfect.”

Seriously, my best friend and the sister I never had. I love her to pieces.