Bridesmaid for Hire

by Chance Carter

  Our quiet was interrupted once more by Willow’s cell phone. She swore and jumped off the couch, bounding to the bathroom without even excusing herself this time.

  I tried to listen to see if I could catch any lines of her conversation, but she was too far away and I didn’t think it would be right to get up and snoop. She returned a couple minutes later, her face a little pinker than when she’d left.

  “What is going on with your phone today?” I asked jokingly, even though I was completely serious. “Have you started a telephone sex line or something?”

  She burst out into nervous laugh, “No, nothing like that. I’m getting a haircut next week and they keep having to move my appointment.”

  That was one of the worst excuses she’d ever come up with, but something about her evasiveness told me not to press further. She leaned over her laptop, letting a curtain of her hair cover her face as she got right back down to business.

  “You know Emma, if it comes down to it, that telephone sex line thing, might not be a bad idea for you.”

  Chapter 32

  Emma

  For the third time in the past minute, I reminded myself to breathe.

  It wasn’t a big deal, just a job interview for a cushy position in a consulting firm. Granted, it was a firm I couldn’t even remember applying to and a job that I was undoubtedly unqualified for, but still. I was going to be fine. If I didn’t get it, no big deal. I wanted to stick with more creative stuff anyway, didn’t I?

  I took another breath. In. Out.

  It had been a week since my last day at Goodman-Westfield and I hadn’t had any other bites on my resume yet. Much as I told myself this wasn’t a big deal, it was kind of a big deal. I needed to start earning income soon.

  I straightened my blouse again, unnecessarily so, then grabbed my keys and purse, and was out the door. The company’s head office was in a swanky building in downtown Manhattan, not too far from where I’d been working only a week before. It was almost like going home.

  I couldn’t help but think about Max the entire subway ride downtown. I wished I was heading back to his building instead, and that I could walk right back in like I’d been on a long coffee run and nobody would be the wiser. But there was a new person sitting at my desk now, a young woman named Farah who I tried not to be too jealous of when I was training her. She was sweet and clever, and would probably be a great personal assistant to Max. I knew I had no claim over him anymore, but all the same I hoped that a personal assistant was all she would be.

  I re-straightened my blouse. Again. Staring up at the glass skyscraper, I gulped. Over the past week, the stress of not having a job had been getting to me. Not quite as much as the angst of not having Max had been getting to me, but the two together combusted into something quite desperate indeed. Because of that, this whole situation felt very life or death.

  I lowered my gaze and prepared to walk through the revolving front doors, only to see Willow blocking my path. She was grinning from ear to ear, and I frowned as I approached.

  “Are you here to wish me well?” I asked.

  She laughed and grabbed my arm, tugging me in the opposite direction. “Not exactly.”

  I struggled against her grip. “Hey! I’ve got a job interview in ten minutes. What are you doing?”

  “I need you to trust me,” Willow said, still dragging me down the street. “Can you do that?”

  I stopped resisting and starting walking alongside her. She still didn’t let go of my hand, and in fact squeezed it harder than ever.

  “Willow, tell me what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on,” Willow said, pulling me to the curb in front of a big black limo, “is that you’re getting in that limo.”

  The driver got out when he saw us and walked around the back, opening the door. Willow waved impatiently toward it.

  “Come on, girl. We don’t have all day.”

  I took one last look at the building I was leaving behind and groaned. “Fine. But you better tell me what’s going on once we get inside.”

  Willow did not tell me what was going on when we got inside. In fact, she stayed irritatingly silent as she uncorked a champagne bottle and poured me a glass.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew that Willow didn’t have this kind of money, which only left one question—where was all of this coming from?

  “Willow,” I said. “Does this have something to do with Max?”

  She spilled a little of the champagne as she handed it to me, wincing. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Willow...” I lowered my voice but accepted the glass all the same. I needed a drink. I’d been on one roller coaster ride of a day so far and suspected it wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

  “It’s a surprise,” she persisted. “You’ll ruin it if you keep asking me questions. You know I’m not a great liar.”

  “Which is why I’m asking you in the first place,” I muttered bitterly.

  Willow laughed and tipped back her head as she drank more of the champagne. I watched out the window, looking for clues. If this did have something to do with Max, then why was Willow involved? And what was up with the limo?

  “Did you fabricate a job interview to get me out here today?” I asked.

  Willow’s only response was a mischievous grin. I sighed.

  The ride only got more confusing when we arrived at our destination.

  “We’re here!” Willow announced cheerily while we waited for the driver to come open the door.

  I peered out the window, not quite believing my eyes. “The Fulton?” I asked. “What are we doing here?”

  “You really don’t understand the concept of a surprise, do you?”

  I glared sourly at her.

  The Fulton Hotel was an elegant, art deco building that had stayed relatively untouched in terms of style since the 1920s. I picked it out when I first moved to New York as the dream venue for my dream wedding. Everything about it, from the golden geometric patterned lights to the sumptuous maroon carpeting spoke of old world glamor. They had a gorgeous honeymoon suite too, one I would kill to spend the night in. Especially if it meant I got to have my dream wedding beforehand, too.

  Willow and I stepped out onto the sidewalk and she grabbed my hand again, pulling me through the front doors. My head swiveled this way and that as I struggled to take in the hotel’s opulence, wanting to commit as much of it to memory as possible. I didn’t know when I would get another chance to do so. The fact that I was even inside the building was a dream come true.

  Willow stopped in front of the elevator and we stepped inside. She punched the button for the fourth floor and swayed back and forth on her heels as we ascended.

  “When are you going to tell me what the surprise is?”

  I was starting to get impatient now. This whole journey had been overwhelming to say the least, and I feared that my imagination was going to make a fool out of me if I didn’t put a stop to it soon. Visions of Max in a black tux, waiting downstairs by an altar wrapped in golden vines danced through my head.

  “The thing about surprises is that you find out when you’re supposed to find out,” she said. “And not a second before.”

  I groaned, “You’re killing me.”

  “Well you’re going to love me in a minute, so I wouldn’t say anything you’ll regret.” She winked.

  The doors slid open and Willow grabbed my hand again, practically bounding down the corridor. She lurched to a stop in front of one of the rooms, digging in her purse and producing a keycard. After unlocking the door, she thrust it open dramatically and all but pushed me inside.

  My confusion churned, turning into something else. Disbelief. Excitement. Anxiety.

  I wanted to believe that the scene in front of me was real, but I was afraid that if I did it would all disappear into a gust of smoke.

  Paulina Westfield was lounging on a chaise by a long, sun-soaked window overlooking the opposite hotel. She had a glass of champagne in one hand, and sh
e used the other to beckon me closer.

  It wasn’t Paulina that had me so concerned, though. It was the garment rack positioned next to her, or rather the white gown hanging from it.

  I rushed forward, not even saying a word of greeting to Paulina before my hands clutched at the lace and silk dream in front of me.

  “Oh my God...” I ran my palms down the length of it, smooth beading gliding over my skin. “This is... this is my wedding dress.”

  The words didn’t even start to sink in until a few seconds after I’d said them. So, I said them again.

  “This is my wedding dress!”

  Not only did I now understand that all this cloak and dagger nonsense had been to surprise me with my dream wedding in my dream venue, but this was also my dream wedding dress. A sweetheart neckline, lace cap sleeves, and a tight-fitting bodice with an A-line skirt. Pnina Tornai. Expensive as hell.

  It was my dress. The dress I never thought I’d end up owning, but had salivated over anyway, because it was something to do.

  “We had to conference with the Pnina ourselves,” Paulina drawled, rising to her feet. “It was not easy to get it done in such a condensed amount of time, so if it doesn’t fit properly, I’m afraid it will have to do.”

  “Have to do?” I repeated, turning to her with wide eyes. “I would walk down the aisle in this dress even if it was so tight I couldn’t move. This is incredible!”

  I flung my arms wide and gathered Paulina into a massive hug before she had a chance to scuttle away. She weakly embraced me, taking a sip of champagne over my shoulder.

  I released her and turned to Willow, who’d followed me into the room and was now standing just behind me.

  “You did this? I’m confused.”

  “I did nothing,” Willow said. “Except provide a little expertise where I could. And kidnap you today, obviously.” She smiled, “It was all Max, Em. He found your Pinterest board.”

  “That boy is a hopeless romantic,” Paulina said, airily. “He gets it from his mother of course.”

  My chest bubbled with excitement. I still couldn’t believe all this was happening. Even though the facts and proof were in front of me, I half-expected Max to be missing in action by the time I got downstairs.

  “You need to start getting ready,” Willow said. “I just texted the stylists and told them to come up. You should probably go hop in the shower.”

  “This is happening now?” I asked. “Like today?”

  I didn’t know why they would pull me in here with so much drama if it were happening tomorrow, but it was still too surreal for me to digest.

  All the feelings that I’d been trying to suppress for Max burst in my chest like fireworks. Tears sprang to my eyes and Willow wrapped me into a hug before I started blubbering like a crazy person right in front of my soon-to-be husband’s mother.

  “If you want this, it’s happening now,” she murmured, rubbing my back. “But you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

  She was confusing my crying for hesitation, which was understandable. But the second I realized that it was the day of my wedding, I knew there was no place I’d rather be.

  “No. I want to be here,” I told her. “Now let go of me. There’s a lot of work to do, and if I’m getting married today, I’m gonna need some time to shave my legs.”

  Chapter 33

  Emma

  Max had tailored almost every detail of this day to my fantasy design. The hairstylist already knew what I wanted for my hair, the make-up artist already knew what I wanted for my face, and the only thing that seemed to be missing was the groom. I hadn’t seen Max in over a week. Outside of my dreams, anyway. Part of me kept wondering if this was all another dream, a big cosmic joke that I’d wake up from… back in my little bed in my little apartment that I was going to lose soon because the only job interview I’d managed to score turned out to be fake.

  Then I’d reach over and run my fingertips over the dress, and I’d feel how the textures swirled together, just like I knew they would when I looked at the pictures.

  Though Max had gotten every detail perfectly right, the one thing I hadn’t planned for my wedding was being rushed. I felt like my hair and make-up were being perfected by forces of nature, not by two women wielding hair spray and blush.

  Being rushed ended up being a good thing. At first it was a little overwhelming, but I soon found I didn’t want to wait any longer to see Max. Knowing he was downstairs waiting for me was torture.

  “What did he say to you?” I asked Willow, as she inspected her maid of honor dress in the full-length mirror.

  A pained expression crossed her face. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything. I know there’s a lot that he wants to tell you and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  My heart picked up even faster, something that I hadn’t thought possible.

  “Wait.” I put out my hand to stop Megan, the hair stylist, midway through braiding a section of my hair. She moved to the side to allow me to see Willow properly, and I skewered my best friend with my best hard gaze. “He’s not just doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to get me back, is he?”

  Willow’s mouth flopped open and my heart sank. I hadn’t considered this possibility until now, because I was so high on the fantasy of my dream wedding, but my dream wedding would be a nightmare if the groom didn’t want to get married at all. And why would Max have a sudden change of heart on one of his key issues?

  God no. My stomach surged up my throat and I felt like I was going to puke.

  “Calm down, darling,” Paulina purred.

  She was back to reclining on the chaise, holding her champagne flute aloft and looking for all intents and purposes like an ancient Greek goddess.

  “I can assure you that my son is not a man who would enter into something as serious as a marriage without thinking it through. He just wouldn’t do it.” She took a sip of her drink, smacking her lips dramatically. “I had a similar thought, you know, and I interrogated him. I can assure you his desires are quite genuine in nature.”

  This. This was what I needed to hear today.

  My heart swelled, and the final piece of my dream wedding—an enthusiastic, loving groom—fell into place.

  “Let’s do this.”

  It was amazing to think how long I’d been planning the details of this wedding. My Pinterest board was full of ideas for center pieces, chair covers, even place settings. I’d spent hours browsing and organizing for a wedding that I half-expected never to occur.

  If it did happen, I figured as I planned, each of these minute details would shine like a beacon to me on the actual day. I would traipse down the aisle feeling accomplished, like I’d done a good job of preparing a slideshow presentation or thrown a good party.

  One thing I’d never planned for, never anticipated, was forgetting that any of those details existed, which is exactly what happened to me the moment the doors to the ceremony space swung open to admit me.

  It didn’t matter that the roses were the right shade of cream, or that the chairs were perfectly arranged in rows of eight on either side of the aisle. It didn’t matter that Max’s tux had sprigs of baby’s breath in his pocket that matched my bouquet. None of it mattered a lick.

  The only thing that mattered wasn’t a thing at all, but a man. He was tall, broad, and had a grin that could disarm a ticking bomb. His eyes were the blue of rolling waves, and every time I looked into them I risked getting lost. And sometimes I hoped I would.

  And this man, this beautiful person who had helped lift me out of a funk I’d been swirling in for years, was now waiting for me at the end of the carpeted aisle. And it was our wedding day.

  It could have been on a beach in Mexico or in a crappy twenty-four-hour chapel in Vegas. It could have been on the back of a camel somewhere in the middle of the desert. The moment my eyes landed on him I no longer cared where the damn wedding was held or what kind of flowers were in the centerpieces. More than anything
, I just wanted Max for the rest of my life.

  Everyone stood as I walked through the door. I was surprised to see how many people Max had managed to corral on such short notice. Half of the office was here, as well as a fair few unfamiliar faces who I assumed were Westfield family friends.

  What surprised me the most was the two familiar faces from the front row, both staring at me, teary-eyed. My parents. How had Max found my parents?

  One of the things that had never featured into my wedding planning was my family. I never intended to have my father walk me down the aisle, and had no dress picked out for the mother of the bride. Max knew that, but he’d invited them here anyway. I wouldn’t have, but now that I was seeing them for the first time in years, I was able to see through all the manipulation and bad feelings. I was grateful they were here. I didn’t know how much longer we could go on like this, with me pretending that the whole state of Illinois didn’t exist and that I’d sprung from the dirt instead of from my mother’s womb.

  It was time to forgive them. Maybe not today, but sometime soon. Today was my wedding day, though, and everything between us needed to be cast aside.

  “Hey beautiful.”

  I was still standing in the doorway, clutching my bouquet in a death grip as I absorbed everything going on around me.

  Max was holding a microphone now, his other hand thrust casually in his pants pocket.

  “Hey,” I replied weakly.

  “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “I wasn’t going to miss my own wedding, was I?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Max’s eyes twinkled. “Before you walk down that aisle and make me the luckiest man in the world, I wanted to say a couple things. I know the speeches are generally after the ceremony, but we’re not exactly doing things by the book here, are we?”

  More laughter from the crowd. I giggled. This hadn’t been part of my wedding plan either, but so far I liked it.