I try a little bit of everything, like throwing spaghetti at the wall without fully knowing what will stick. I ask if Brides will purchase exclusive rights to my wedding photos for $10,000, angling myself to them as the hottest engagement ring designer in the industry; I pitch myself as a cover star for The Knot; I ask TLC to cast me in a variety of wedding-themed reality shows; I write to the editor of the New York Times’s Vows section and request coverage of my wedding; I invite a scarily popular YouTuber to the nuptials and ask her to film a wedding-themed vlog; I email Haley Cardozo to tell her how much I loved doing the podcast and to ask if she’ll do a special episode on my wedding day. I briefly consider inviting her to be one of my bridesmaids, just for the sake of press, and stop myself when I realize that would be at least one step too far.

I close my laptop and stand up to stretch. When I enter the front room of the shop, Sophie looks like she’s sketching out a design with a customer. Jess is straightening up a velvet tray. Outside, on Bedford Avenue, a group of women walk by, and one slows to examine our wares in the window before catching up to her friends. I take a seat behind the counter and spot a smudged fingerprint marring the glass. Reflexively, I grab the Windex and a roll of paper towels we keep lodged underfoot. I spray the chemicals and rub out the spot until the glass gleams. I feel at home here. I’m not ready to give this up.