I'm finding myself in the seventh level of wedding hell. I am literally about to tackle Annabeth off her fitting room podium and force her to be done for the evening. I've sat and nodded enthusiastically to all of her picks at all six dress stores we've gone to, but there isn't enough champagne in the world to keep me interested any longer. 

"But is there enough lace? My vision requires a ton of lace," Annabeth asks me as she runs her hands along the lacey off-white bodice.

 "Kate Middleton's dress had less lace than that one, you want more?" I ask in disbelief. 

"I need help. Not sarcasm, Sawyer," Annabeth snaps as she pushes her way back into her stuffed dressing room. I look around me and note that I am the last one left. We started with six of us, including her and Gus's mother this morning at the first store and now, it is just I that remains to deal with A.B. Everyone else has managed to find some decent excuse to scurry off to in order to avoid yet another dress store. Even her momma left when she got an "important" call from work forcing her away after the fourth bridal shop.

 "You don't have to find your dress today ya know," I remind her. Again.

"Yes, I do. I am only getting bigger and I need to know how the dress is gonna look after I give birth. I do not want to be doing this when my stomach covers my knees," she shouts to me through the velvety curtain she's tucked behind. Annabeth is only three months pregnant and hasn't even popped yet, but she's convinced she is going to wake up any day now with a large protruding belly. I raise my champagne glass to my lips and frown when I find it empty. I look around the store to find a sales associate but I think Annabeth has frightened them all off. She suddenly pokes her head out of her room and snaps, "The lady brought me a dress in a size two. I'm pregnant with size double D boobs. Is everyone here a moron?" She thrusts the white designer gown toward me and practically shoves it into me when I take it from her.

"Did you want me to get you another size or do you even like this gown?" I ask her, praying to all that is mighty that she doesn't like it- that number sixteen was all she could handle for this session. She scrutinizes the gown with her eyes narrowed and then says, "See if it comes in off-white, if so, then yes. And bring my real size." I nod to her but know I am not about to go ask if it comes in a different color. The fewer dresses she has left to debate over the better.

Now, I don't want to say A.B is a bit of a Bridezilla, but if the size seven Manolo fits...and yes, I did just say A.B and Manolo in the same sentence. It's happened. She's become a Bridezilla and a big fan of Gus's loaded bank account during these past three months. The idea of being married to a wealthy man has shown her ugly side and has made planning her wedding an absolute nightmare. Picking out a wedding dress is supposed to be a magical time. Floating from store to store, beaming while trying them on while the bridal party gushes at how beautiful the bride looks in all of them. That's how I imagined it. That's how my dress searching went when I was engaged to Jackson Hemming. But Annabeth has a whole other idea of how it should go. 

She bosses the sales ladies about and complains if they don't give her their undivided attention. She wanted everyone to tell her only positives about each dress as she didn't want any negative energy. She demands that every dress she tries on be couture or ridiculously expensive and wants to know if any woman in Hollis has bought it in the last twelve months. She knows this is her time in the spotlight and damn us all if she doesn't sparkle and shine on her big day. So, combine the stress of a wedding and raging pregnancy hormones and you get Annabeth the Miserable. And I have the privilege of being Annabeth the Miserable's maid of honor- Sawyer the Miserable. 

I finally find a cowardly sales associate and walk the dress over to her. I notice my feet are killing me in the teal suede pumps Momma forced me to wear and I swear to myself that if there is another day of this, I will be coming in a tracksuit and my converse. 

"Any more dresses you'd like for me to clear out of Ms. Matthew's room?" She timidly asks. I'm sure she's crossing her fingers that I won't make her go back over there.

"I think she's still trying a few on. But would you happen to have any more champagne?" I ask with large pleading eyes while swinging my empty glass in front of her. She frowns and replies, "I'm so sorry, but it's one bottle per fitting room." I didn't hear the monster sneak up behind me but suddenly I hear Annabeth's harsh voice, "I'm sorry, one bottle a room? Do you know how much I am about to spend on one of your dresses and you can't provide an additional bottle of cheap champagne to my bridal party?" The woman turns bright red and I feel like I am a similar shade. 

She stutters, "I'm so sorry, Ms. Matthews. I'll see what I can do." She spins on her heel and darts off in the other direction. 

"It wasn't a big deal A.B. I'm actually pretty buzzed already," I confess. I want to laugh that Annabeth said bridal "party" seeing that I am the only person in her bridal party remaining- but I keep the chuckle to myself. 

"If you want champagne you'll get champagne, Sawyer. We are about to spend a good amount here, so I think the least they could do is make sure we're happy."

 Hopeful, I ask, "You just said spend a good amount here, does that mean you picked your dress? Did you find the one today?" She stands tall in her white silk slip and petticoat and smiles- a genuine Annabeth smile that I haven't seen in weeks- and I find myself smiling too.

 "I think I did, Sawyer. I think I found my weddin' dress!" She says before squealing. I pull my hands up to my face in delight and ask, "Well which one?"

 "The ivory one with the rhinestone belt and lace bodice. The A-line," she says with a radiant smile.

 "That one was beautiful, Annabeth. You'll look absolutely stunning," I gush while crossing my fingers that she's actually serious this time- that this will be the final dress and the hunting will be over.

 "I keep comparing every dress I've tried on today to that one. That has to mean it's it!" She says excitedly. The saleswoman comes flurrying back out of the back room with a tall glass of champagne for me. She hands it to me apologetically and Annabeth looks to her with a frown.

 "Where's mine?" She snaps. I watch the saleswoman's blue eyes flit to A.B's belly and she stutters, "I'm sorry Ms. Matthews, I thought you said you were pregnant."

 "So? Are you my doctor? No. You're not. So, if I want a sip of champagne for celebratin' I think I am allowed a sip," Annabeth demands. The woman complies and runs off. I awkwardly refrain from drinking anything now that I know my glass will be used in a toast. The woman scurries back over in record time and hands Annabeth's outstretched fingers the flute. She turns to me and hoists the glass in the air.

 "To finding my weddin' dress! I'm sure Gus will love it!" We clink our glasses and I down the entirety of the bubbly liquid while she just takes a small sip. She glances over her shoulder and then back to me. "Ugh, where did that wretched woman go? Doesn't she need to know what dress I'm taking? Find someone with a brain while I go change out of this insufferable corset." She thrusts her champagne into my hand as she darts off toward her fitting room. No sales associates are in sight and I'm thinking they know the commission ain't worth dealing with Ms. Matthews.