Hope

Tessa spreads a thick binder across the kitchen table, color-coded tabs jutting out like confetti. “Okay, hear me out. What if we both wear ivory, but I do a low back and you do off-the-shoulder?”

I sip my tea, grinning. “So basically the same dress, just enough different so we don’t get mistaken for one another?”

She snorts. “I’m six inches shorter and have red hair.”

“And I have... a slightly obsessive need for symmetry,” I tease, reaching over to flip a tab labeled, Florals. “Let’s talk about bouquets. I want white roses. With eucalyptus. Maybe a few lilacs if they're in season.”

Tessa raises a brow. “You’re really...