Rattled from my encounter with Elliott, I left him to his restaurant. After returning several work emails and phone calls, I decided to change it up and go up Madison Avenue. I found a pair of stunning lamps for the Brazilian place at a small shop. I saw a captivating picture in a gallery window I thought would be perfect in the bar area of Ipanema. They were getting ready to close and didn’t have time for me. I took a picture of it anyway, intending to come back another time. Right next to the gallery, I found myself face-to-face with a bridal shop.

I found a beautiful silk charmeuse dress cut on the bias. It would be perfect for a wedding dress for Elle or even a bridesmaid’s dress. I inquired about the colors and availability. I took a quick picture of it and sent it to Elle with the address and texted: “Playing hooky before the dinner crowd. Can you get off work for a little bit and try this on? Thinking about it for your dress or bridesmaids. It comes in a soft lavender-dove color.”

Her text came back immediately, complete with emojis and exclamation points: “Getting taxi. Be there in ten.” She breezed in the door ten minutes later looking expectant.

“What do you think? Did the picture do it justice?” I held up the dress for inspection, along with the color swatches turned to the soft lavender.

“I absolutely love it! But I love this one too.” She spied my second-favorite dress, another slip dress with a beautiful organza overlay.

“Try them all on,” I urged her. “I texted Reggie, and she’ll be here in five minutes.” Elle had already disappeared to try on a dress. It was a snooty kind of store, but they offered you champagne as you tried on dresses. I was almost giddy watching Elle try on all those dresses. They all looked perfect for her. I texted Elliott and told him I was running late.

He replied back: “It’s okay, darling. Sorry. Take your time. I have things under control. XO.” I was relieved more than anything to see that Elliott had returned to his old self. I settled into the couch, waited for Reggie, and accepted another glass of champagne in anticipation of Elle modeling the next selection. I needed a little buzz.

“I don’t like this one as much as the other one. Bailey, why don’t you try on the one you like for the bridesmaids, and I’ll wait for Reggie to try on my favorite so she can vote,” Elle shouted from the back. In a few minutes, Reggie breezed in.

“Am I too late to the party?” Someone handed Reggie a glass of champagne. I stepped toward her in a gown holding a ring of swatch samples.

“Wow, Bailey. You look like a bride,” Reggie said, looking at me with pride.