On my list of Things I Did Not Want to Do on a Saturday morning, wedding dress shopping with Momzilla-of-the-Bride was number one. But as I was now avoiding Nate for the rest of my natural life, this seemed like a solid choice. Although it put me right in the crosshairs of my mother. It was a lose-lose situation all around. “Persephone, what in heavens are you wearing?” my mother demanded as soon as I arrived. With a frown, I glanced down at the bright yellow peasant top and light-wash jeans. “Clothes?” Scowling, Mom patted her pale pink blouse, certainly raw silk. “It’s not really appropriate
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