The boutique was nearly empty when we walked in, the assistant immediately rushing over to greet us. But instead of me, the bride-to-be, they focused on Derick and Becky.
“What kind of gown would you like, miss?” the assistant asked eagerly.
Becky burst out laughing. “Oh, no, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not the bride; I’m his best friend. She’s the one he’s marrying.” She pointed back at me, a few steps behind them.
The assistant’s expression turned awkward, as if trying to make sense of why Becky was attached to Derick’s arm while I lingered in the background. Derick cleared his throat, sensing the awkwardness. He tried to gesture for me to join him, but I subtly stepped aside, evading his hand that hovered mid-air, uncertain.
“I’ll go look around,” I said, shrugging casually.
Derick looked a little caught off guard, like he was about to say something, but then Becky took his arm and led him to sit down on the couch.
I picked a dress quickly. Whatever the sales associate said was popular, I chose without a second thought.