Family Business

29. Wedding Dresses

**Faith POV**

After touring those venues, Ashley had booked an appointment at a dress shop the next day. Her mother, six sisters, and... me. The random friend. But I was happy to go to support her.

She drove me there, just the two of us talking about all the themes and venues. We pulled up in front of the dress shop, some fancy designer Tristan had arranged for her, and suddenly all the joy drained from her as she gave me a steely look.

"I just want to warn you that they're going to be... a lot."

"I'm sure I'll fair fine." I waved off, and she looked over me, hoping I was telling the truth.

I realized quickly why she wanted me there. Her six sisters looked almost identical to her, and I knew one was her identical twin. But you'd actually be hard pressed to pinpoint which one. They were all very similar. Their mother even looked like them, though aged. I was interested to see her dad because it really seemed like momma's genetics were an overpowering force here. They greeted me, but were immediately sizing me up. They knew I was Tristan's sister, but mostly, they seemed to have their hackles raised that I was Ashley's friend.

The bridal assistant gave us all champagne while she pulled various sample dresses for Ashley. Every one she came out in was brutally turned down. Ripped apart. Showed too much skin, too much arm, too tight. So many complaints, even when I tried to stand up for her. Only one had gotten married from the bunch, and the bitterness in the group was thick. Even from her mother. I could barely get a word in. Ballgowns, too gaudy, sheath dresses, too slutty. I felt like I was on one of those 'Say Yes To The Dress' episodes where the family was just fucking awful. I helped the assistant fluff out the train of the ballgown she came out in, the long sleeves, high collar, and puffy shoulders covering her almost completely. She looked beat in the mirror. This was the tenth dress.

"Now you look a bit less like a whore, dearie." Her mother cooed to her, sounding more condescending than comforting. I could tell Ashley didn't like it. She was restricted, and the dress swallowed her. It was pretty. But she didn't like it. All of her mood boards had mermaid, strapless gowns, and they were trying to strong arm her into this overwhelming dress that swallowed every curve she had.

"Can I pick one?" I asked her quietly, seeing her sad eyes draw up to me in the mirror. She nodded, and looked back down at the antiqued looking dress. It really seemed like they were out to get her at this point. I disappeared into the racks, hearing their biting comments as I walked away. I flipped through them, finally finding what I was looking for. Beaded, strapless, shiny mermaid gown. It had a crystal belt on it that I knew she would love to match a headband to, just like her Pinterest boards.

I came back with it as the assistant excused herself to take a call. Probably to avoid these horrible people. I knocked on the dressing room door.

"Come in." The joy had been stripped in her voice. "I need help." I slipped into the room, seeing her struggling with the clips on the sample dress. I hung up the one I found and worked on getting her out of this monstrosity.

"You have to pick something you like. Not them." I reminded her, our eyes meeting in the mirror, with hers glistening with moisture.

"This thing is fucking massive. Tristan will hate it."

"You don't have to listen to all their bullshit. Seriously, Ash."

I freed her from the overwhelming mess of fabric, helping her step out of the hoop skirt that stood on its own and hung it on a random hanger. She looked at the one I brought in, her fingers lightly tracing over the fabric as she stood there in her skivvies.