Together In Paris

Hens and Stags

Butterflies fluttered in Kate's stomach as she gazed at her reflection. After June and Elizabeth found out she didn't have a dress yet, they had whisked Kate through the high end French wedding dress shops, for a bit of girl time. Elizabeth snapped pictures of Kate in all of her favourite dresses, for research. After a few bottles of high class bubbly from a few different shops, they had ended up back in June's hotel room, with a partly legal tailor.
The prints of Kate in various dresses were laid out on the table. Elizabeth shifted the prints to arrange a new dress.

"I like this bedazzling," Elizabeth said, wiggling her fingers over one of the pictures, "but I like the skirt on this one."

As Elizabeth shifted, the wine in her glass sloshed. She did her best to stop it from slipping over the edge, but she was tipsy and staggering.

"Are you sure you want a veil darling? It will hide your beautiful face," the French tailor said.

"It's tradition to have a veil isn't it?" Kate asked.

The French tailor scoffed loudly, and threw her hand in the air, carelessly. As she did, the ash on the end of her cigarette at the end of her opera length cigarette holder, across the room.

"It's also tradition for the groom to give the bride's father money to buy his brides marriage. Times change darling. Tradition's change," she said, firmly.

"Should I not have a veil?" Kate asked, uncertainly.

"I had a veil when I married Peter. I lost it ten minutes later. That was the Second fastest I ever lost three hundred dollars," Elizabeth said.

"Second?" June repeated curiously.

"In my university days I brought a three hundred dollar bottle of wine and chugged it on a dare. Peter told me that was hilarious when he found out," Elizabeth explained.

The tailor took a long inhale of her cigarette and puffed donuts into the air.

"When your fiancé wakes on your wedding day, he is nervous. Skittish. Likely to run. While he is on his own, he is even more likely."

The tailor came closer to Kate. She raised her hands either side of Kate's face, with the cigarette holder hanging between her fingers.

"But when your fiancé sees your beautiful face, he knows he makes the right choice. Don't make him wait longer to know. Don't give him more time to run."

For some reason, Kate didn't really think Neal was going to run. Maybe it was because he had begged her to come. Maybe it was because his family was there, even when hers weren't. Or maybe, most likely, it was because he was working a scam, and this wedding was the pivotal moment of the con.
But did Kate want to mask her face with a money waster veil?
No.
No she did not.

"Magnifique, good choice!" The tailor approved, happily.

She turned briskly, and collected all of the photos - and the drunken doodle of a dream dress - and packed them into her purse.

"I will have your dress in two days. I come here yes?" She asked.

"Yes. We'll meet here in two days," Elizabeth nodded.

The tailor clicked her purse shut, and turned towards the door. "Magnifique."

Kate giggled as the tailor left. This time six weeks ago she didn't have a date. Now she was in Paris, having a wedding dress designed specifically for her, for her wedding in Notre Dame. It was a whirlwind, and she loved every minute of it.

"You have never looked so beautiful Kate. Neal is a very lucky man," June said.

Kate smiled back at her, almost blushing with pride. "Thank you. Both of you. For the dress shopping. It's been all boys since we got to Paris with Theo and Neal and-" Kate suddenly remembered that Mozzie didn't want the others to know that he was there, "and the - the clergyman, that I almost miss the fun of wedding dress shopping in Paris!"