Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Don’t scare her off.” Isabel playfully swats at Hellie’s shoulder, which makes them both laugh. “Seriously, it’ll be okay.”
“I don’t think Jayson likes me much,” I say, which I very much regret the moment it’s out of my mouth. The champagne’s got me looser than it should.
The girls exchange looks before Casey speaks up. “Jayson’s in a bad state of mind right now.”
“Yeah? I bet.” I look down at the floor, not interested in my asshole future husband’s feelings. I wish I hadn’t said anything.
“His best friend died in the fighting.” Casey shifts slightly, leaning closer. “He’s really struggling with it.”
I frown into my drink. I hadn’t known that—nobody told me. I figured Jayson was above all that violence, above the death and destruction, since he was the boss and everything.
But losing his best friend? I can see why that might leave a man bitter.
“I lost my father,” I blurt out.
They stare, their expressions mixed between sadness and pity. I despise my big, dumb mouth, and wish I could keep it shut for once in my life.
“That must be so hard,” Casey says. “I really can’t imagine. I am so, so sorry that happened.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
It’s awkward as hell. The girls don’t know what to say, and I don’t blame them. What are they supposed to say to something like that—sorry we blew up your dad, our bad? They can’t fix it, can’t make me feel better, and there’s no use lingering. It’s not like they had anything to do with it. Their husbands likely didn’t even know it was happening until it was too late.
“I meant it when I said you can come to me for anything,” Isabel says after a beat. “Even if it’s just to talk.”
“Thank you.” I blink a few times and notice that I’m tearing up. I’m not used to kindness like this. The clan’s warm and loving, but we’re taught to keep our emotions close.
Crying while shopping for my wedding dress is a surreal experience, though I suspect Olivia’s had her fair share of water works.
Isabel gets up and gives me a hug. It’s actually kind of nice, even if I hate her family. Hellie comes next, and last there’s Casey, the whole group of us having one nice embrace. It feels good, being a part of this little bizarre sisterhood, even if it’s fake and won’t last.
“Okay, ladies,” Olivia says, clapping her hands for attention.
Glasses are refilled. The dresses I approved are wheeled back out.
“It’s time,” I say, getting to my feet. I raise my chin like a soldier preparing for one final charge. “Wish me luck.”
“With hips like those, you don’t need luck,” Isabel says with a sigh.
I’m ushered into a changing area where dress after dress is squeezed, shoved, tugged, yanked, and jammed onto my body. None of them are right—though they’re all lovely in their own way—except for two.
One is classic. An A-line gown, flared at the waist, with ivory satin and delicate lace patterns on the chest and arms. The sweetheart neckline makes my collarbone and shoulders seem delicate and lovely instead of all manly and awkward like how I normally feel, and for a second, I like being feminine and soft.
The other’s more what I’d typically go for. Bohemian, basically, very flowy and relaxed, made of airy chiffon and lots of flowers. It’s off the shoulder and cut a bit low, though not too scandalous, just enough to show a hint of what I’m working with.
Maybe Jayson will like the view.
Except I’m not worrying about what that man wants.
The girls are clearly enjoying themselves, and I get into it too. Might as well have some fun. Once it’s over with, and I’m back in my normal clothes, I have Olivia’s assistants hold up the A-line gown and the Bohemian flowery piece for a vote.
Casey and Isabel both go A-line. Hellie leans Bohemian, to nobody’s surprise. “But which do you want?” Isabel asks. “That’s the only vote which counts.”
I press my lips together. Which do I want?
If one came with a plane ticket home, that’s the one I’d choose.
Instead, I point at the Bohemian, and with that, the day is done, the dress is purchased and left behind for some overnight tailoring, and we’re swept back out into the massive complex.
“That was fun,” Casey says, shuffling along. We walk slowly to accommodate her. “I’m sure it wasn’t what you thought you’d be doing today, but I’m glad we had this time together.”
“Agreed,” Hellie says.
And I find myself feeling the same way.
At least until we reach the lobby.
Rian’s there talking to a couple men. One’s Adler, Casey’s husband, the Don of the family.
The other is Jayson.
My future spouse and the bane of my existence.
The men turn to face us. Casey gives her man a kiss on the cheek and leans against him. He supports her without thinking, taking some weight from her knee as natural as brushing his hair. Rian comes to my side and says something, but I can’t hear it over the scream in my head.