As we wait for someone to appear, Owen reaches out to touch the lace sleeve of the dress a mannequin is wearing, but I slap his hand away. The last thing we need is him somehow managing to ruin a multi-thousand-dollar dress.

"Hello, I'm Wilma," an older woman approaches us. She's wearing a cushion with pins sticking out on her wrist. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm Audrey, I'm picking up Sofia's dress."

She smiles broadly. "Yes! Let me grab that for you."

"Actually!" Owen calls out, forcing her to return. "Do you sell any bridesmaid dresses?"

I'm so shocked that just came out of Owen's mouth that my jaw drops. I didn't even think of that! I may not get to wear the same dress we picked out, but at least I won't ruin wedding pictures.

"Of course we do," Wilma says. "But as I'm sure you know, the dresses we have are for trying on only, then we order the dress in your size and colour."

I step forward, excited at the prospect of fixing this major problem. I may not be royally and utterly screwed! "Do you have any we can take home now? Any off the rack ones?"

"We have a few. I'm assuming they're for you?"

I nod. "We've had a... mishap... and I need a new bridesmaid dress."

"Hmm." Her lips purse in thought. "Let me show you what we have. I'm not sure we'd have any in your size though. All the in-store dresses are usually bigger and we pin them back for fittings."

"I'd love to see anything you have. Preferably in olive green," I say.

At least if this replacement dress is the same colour as my original dress, it won't be such a big deal. I'll still fit in with the other bridesmaids.

"I'll see what I can find," Wilma says, and disappears into the back of the store.

Maybe I'll get lucky. They say bad things happen in threes, and I've definitely hit all three of them already. Driving with my ex-boyfriend, losing my dress, and losing the tennis bracelet. Three! That means the worst is over and I'm due some good luck.

"They might have the same dress!" Owen says. "See! Everything will work out." He gives my shoulders a little shake. "Loosen up, Audrey. It's going to be fine. Stop glaring at everyone."

"I'm not glaring!"

"Okay, you're not glaring. I meant you should stop staring at everyone in an angry manner."

I shove his hands off my shoulders. "That's literally the definition of glaring."

"Right..." he gives an awkward laugh, and instead of glaring at him, I 'stare at him in an angry manner'.

"Okay, I've found a few dresses close to your size," Wilma says, holding Sofia's dress by the hanger, a few dresses hanging behind it.

Please be olive green please be olive green.

"And one is even in green!" Wilma exclaims.


Owen holds up his hand to me, and I'm so happy I can't resist high fiving him.

Wilma places Sofia's dress on a rack near us. "I'm out of bags to put this in, I'm sorry, so just be careful with it."

Sofia's dress is beautiful. It's light and summery and flowy—perfect for an outdoor summer wedding in this heat.

"And here are your options, Audrey." Wilma holds out three dress, each one uglier than the last.

The hope that was building in my chest pops and leaves me feeling deflated. One is muddy brown and so plain it looks like a blanket, the other is blue and looks like something my grandmother would wear, and the other is booger green and looks twice my size.

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