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It was Monday afternoon and I was sitting cross legged on Bernie's bed. Flynn went home a couple of hours ago and we'd both pretended that the entire discussion about future children— or lack thereof— had never happened. It was obvious that he felt bothered about it. He wanted kids and I knew that, even if he claimed not to need them in order to be happy.

Part of me hoped that I'd have a change of heart. But for now, it was a hard no and I appreciated that Flynn was willing to go along with it and pretend as though things were normal between us, even though I knew him well enough to know that he would struggle with this choice. Perhaps not right now. But one day. One day he'd ask me if I'd changed my mind.

Nattie was standing on a step stool between the end of the bed and the desk that was under the window. Occasionally Bernie would trip on a piece of fabric or clothing as she circled Nattie and pinned her dress for alterations. I made sure that I snapped a few photos once in a while, capturing this fashion mogul in action.

These photos would be nostalgic one day. When Bernie was running a fashion empire and someone wanted to create a documentary on her beginnings. I smiled at the latest photo I'd snapped, her standing in front of Nattie, hands on her hips, a splitting grin revealing her mild overbite while she evaluated her work.

Nattie of course was a vision with her porcelain white cheeks and pale blonde hair twisted into a bun on the top of her head. Bernie had created a maroon velvet dress with thick straps, a square neckline and a billowing skirt that stopped above her knees. It was elegant and sophisticated but appropriate for her age. She looked like a little princess.

"What will you wear?" Nattie said to Bernie who in turn, raised a curious brow. "You have to come with me."

"To your brother's wedding?"

Nattie nodded. "Mom said it was fine. Most of the guests will be older so she said it'd be nice for me to have someone to hang out with."

Bernie's expression lit up and she squealed through a clenched jaw. "I've never been to a wedding before. I thought Amalia's would be the first one."

I laughed.

"But what should I wear?!"

"Make another one of these!" Nattie gripped the hem of her dress and twirled. "We could match."

"But in pale pink!" Bernie exclaimed. "Pale pink suits me. And Amalia. I'll just use the same pattern and alter the size a little bit. We need platforms! Black for you. White for me. When's the wedding?"

"Two weeks."

Bernie gasped and mumbled something in Spanish. "Two weeks?!" She leaned over to her desk and started flipping through the pages of her diary. "I'll have to move a few things around. But hmm. I think I can manage."

"I'll do your homework for the next two weeks. So you have extra time," Nattie offered.

Bernie's lips parted as she stared up at her friend. "You're the best. That'll help so much."

"It'll be so fun. My mom said there's going to be a photo booth! One of those ones with the curtains and it prints like a film strip. Ya know, like the movies."

Bernie gasped and started carefully unzipping Nattie's dress. She'd pinned the places where it needed to be taken in. "We have to take so many photos! What about wine? We should sneak some."

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