I write the message from my profile to make sure that they can confirm that I am indeed his sister and not some law enforcement officer.

When Sydney is on her fifth dress, I put down my phone and give up on the fact that I will get a response this quickly. Not everyone is obsessed with social media, Olive, I say to myself but that doesn't mean you won’t find him.

“I think I like this one the best,” she says, straightening out the Vera Wang dress that hugs her body in just the right places, giving her the outline of a goddess.

“You look…amazing,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Thank you,” she mumbles.

The saleswoman looks for the tears that almost all brides get in their eyes when they find the perfect dress, but Sydney doesn’t have any.

“Would you like to purchase it now?” she asks after a moment.

“Do you think I should bring my mom here first?” she asks me.

“Wouldn’t she get upset that you were already here with me?” I ask with a shrug.

“She doesn’t have to know.”

The saleswoman and I exchange looks.

“So, you’re going to go through all of this again?” I ask for both of us. “Why didn’t you just bring her here right from the start?”

“Eh, you know why.” Sydney throws up her hand. “You know how she is. I wanted to decide on the dress in a normal, supportive environment and then fight her on it and ignore every negative thing that she says about it.”

I shake my head and smile.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” she asks, also starting to laugh.

“Kind of. A little,” I admit. “I guess the thing that I find the funniest is how fucked up our moms are.”

That’s when we both start to crack up. It might be the tiredness or the glass of champagne that’s finally hitting us, but somehow the day feels like it has been saved just a little. Maybe it’s not so bad after all, especially given that we have each other.

“So, what do you think I should do?” she asks me when we start on our second round.

She’s still wearing her dress, though she’s no longer standing on the pedestal.

“About what?” I ask.

“About my mom.”

I look at her and lose myself in her bridal glow. Even though her groom is far from magical and their relationship is a house of cards, maybe there is some way that this dress can make up for everything.

“Don’t bring her here,” I say. “This moment is perfect. You found your ideal dress. You look beautiful in it and you love it. You’re practically glowing, for crying out loud.”