His gaze traces down my dress before snapping up, making my breath catch. “Yeah. She does.”
“Thanks,” I say, moving next to Brendan’s sister. “But I think the bride should be the focus of today. I don’t want to upstage her.”
“Oh, please.” Carmen waves me off with a laugh. “No one could upstage me.”
Rosa comes over and fiddles with the neckline of the gown. “The hem is too long, and I think we could use a bit more cleavage.”
My eyes widen. “Uh…what?”
Elana tilts her head. “Lower her neckline, and her boobs are going to be the star of the show.”
Carmen snorts. “Aunt Elana!”
“Well, I always say…if you’ve got it, flaunt it!” Grandma Rosa adds with a decisive nod.
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, hiking the straps up. “Really. I’m happy with the neckline where it is.”
Brendan clears his throat. Every Marco woman pivots toward him at once. “I don’t think she needs to change a thing,” he says, tone final.
I silently mouth,thank you,while Brendan escapes to a wing chair in the far corner, trying to get some distance.
“So, Scarlett,” Isabella says, giving me an appraising look. “How long do you think it’s good to date someone before you get married?”
Everyone knows there’s nothing hypothetical about this question. “I think it depends on the couple.”
“Young people today take forever to make decisions,” Rosa laments. “In my day, you dated six months and got married.”
“Times were different then,” Elana points out. “What I want to know is how you two got together after all these years. When do we hear that story?”
“Aunt Elana, we’ll discuss that later,” Brendan warns from his seat, saving me from having to make something up on the spot.
Isabella leans in to tell Elana, “You know, when they were teenagers, everyone could see it. Remember how he used to stare at her at the beach, Carmen?”
“Oh, I remember,” Carmen adds with a knowing smile. “It was so obvious how my brother felt about you, Scarlett.”
I look at Brendan in the mirror with raised eyebrows. This is news to me, but he just looks away uncomfortably.
“Done,” the seamstress interrupts, standing up from her hem work. “You can change back now.”
By the time I reach the dressing room, I realize there’s no way I can unzip this dress by myself. When I turn around, I run into Brendan with his tux in hand, his jaw clenching. Judging by how pale he’s gone, this entire conversation has made him physically ill.
“Scarlett, I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’ll talk to my family about what just happened out there.”
He sounds distressed about the entire situation. I’m only his friend, not his actual girlfriend. Even if I thought I caught something in his expression earlier, he’s made it clear what role I’m playing for this event.
But deep down, some part of me enjoys the fantasy of belonging to this family—likes imagining what we could’ve been if things had turned out differently. Isabella greets me like family, asks questions, and remembers details about my life. I didn’t realize I’d been missing that.
Mom used to be more like that before Dad got sick and their world became hospital visits and medication schedules. I don’t blame her. But I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone’s full attention.
“Just help me out with the zipper,” I say, turning my back and lifting my hair. “Just enough so I can reach it.”
Men like Brendan Marco don’t choose me.
“Scarlett—” There’s something pained in his voice.
“Please,” I whisper, shame coloring my cheeks. “The zipper.”
I know I don’t belong here with his family. His uncle made that clear years ago—the night of the accident when I waited for Brendan in the hospital lobby and Rafael told me to go home. I’ve never forgotten.