Forget About It

by Jessie Harper

  Cassie twitches, but ignores me. She’s still preoccupied with the files in front of her. “So other than laying around naked all day…” Cassie raises an eyebrow. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. What would you like to be doing?”

  “Playing football,” I answer without even thinking.

  “Ah.”

  “You see the problem, obviously.”

  Cassie leans back against my chest. “You just don’t have anything exciting to replace it with yet. You’re in a great position. You can do some of these things.” Cassie flicks the files back onto the desk. “And then you can do something you’re excited about.”

  I’d be excited about taking you out in public. Being a dad. Still playing football. Because what have I ever really been good at other than football? I don’t tell Cassie any of these things because what could she say?

  “What were you doing at the hospital the other day when you came over to stalk me?” she asks.

  “That was hardly stalking,” I protest. “I was there and I just wanted to stop by to see my good buddy. What’s stalkerish about that?”

  Cassie rolls her eyes. “Stick to the point, Stevens. Stalking aside, what were you up to?”

  “Visiting sick kids.”

  “Even though you’re not on the team anymore?” Cassie prods.

  “Why would not being on the team keep me from hanging out with those kids?”

  “Well, I imagine some of the guys work pretty hard to get out of that gig.”

  “Sure. Some guys aren’t good with kids and it’s a little depressing, I guess, being with those families. But I don’t mind it.”

  “Because you’re good with kids.”

  “I am?” I’ve never thought about it much before. “I like kids,” I tell her simply.

  “Oh, I know you like them. You go crazy over random babies and you enjoy Julia’s kids. That takes infinite patience, in my opinion.”

  “What’s wrong with babies? And Julia’s kids are great. Their dad may have turned out to be a jerk, but they’re great.”

  “Sure.” Cassie looks suspiciously amused.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you figure out a way to do something with kids, knucklehead?”

  I consider this for a second. Working with kids? Could I actually do that? “How would that work?” I ask like Cassie’s got all the answers.

  “However you wanted it to. You don’t have to be a teacher or do it full time like Zach with all his kid classes at the gym, but you could do something that let you be with kids and tapped into all that patience and generosity you’ve got going on.” She stays pressed up against me, rubbing her cheek along my left pectoral muscle. It would be distracting if I wasn’t getting excited about this new idea. “You’ve got a soft spot for them so why don’t you figure out a way to help some kids?”

  Cassie yawns again and plants a kiss on the underside of my chin. “Now I’ve got to go back to bed. I think that’s as much relationshipping as I can handle tonight.”

  I let her slide off my lap but when she tugs at my hand I stay put. “Aren’t you coming? I promise not to mention the Jackie thing.”

  I fake a shudder. “No more Mom talk. Give me a minute. I’ve got a little research to do.”

  “Suit yourself. But you’ll owe me one for all these good ideas.” Not even Cassie’s ass swaying down the hall makes me follow her. I’ve got work to do.

  “Be careful what you wish for, Cassie,” I yell after her. “When I give someone a raincheck, I don’t forget about it.”

  She waves over her shoulder as she turns back into the bedroom. I open my laptop and get to work.

  23

  Cassie

  “Explain to me again why Graham’s here?”

  Julia’s face clouds. “He’s in the wedding party.”

  Like that’s self-explanatory.

  “Sure, but isn’t wedding dress shopping more of a girl thing?” I ask, shooting a glance over Julia’s shoulder to where Graham sits taking up way too much space on the bridal shop’s frilly couch.

  “I guess, but he’s the only guy in the wedding party. I couldn’t exactly exclude him.”

  “I’m positive he wouldn’t have felt bad about being left out of this.” And I could have avoided having to watch him see Julia in her wedding dress. That little tattoo is still giving my self-confidence a healthy ding.

  “Well, he could have pretended to be busy or something.” Julia doesn’t seem to see the problem here. “He’ll be fine. There’s champagne.” She brushes off my concern by shoving a glass in my hand.

  “Fine. Let’s get this over with, then.” I’m the best bridesmaid ever.

  As the salesgirl shows Julia to a dressing room, I move to find a seat. Which turns out to be a problem. With Julia’s mother here along with Zach’s and both of his sisters, the only available seat is the sliver of sofa with Graham. He pats the space next to him and lifts an eyebrow. I take a deep breath and slide in next to him, careful not to let our thighs touch. Graham moves so we’re connected from the hip down. My body heats.

  “It’s a small couch,” he tells me as if that explains why we’ve ended up in the middle of it. He shrugs like there’s nothing we can do and goes back to drinking his champagne, looking like a giant in this pink dollhouse. It’s like something straight out of my bridal nightmare. Frilly everything and no shortage of sparkly.

  “Should one of us go back with her? To help or something?” one of Zach’s sisters asks. I still can’t tell them apart. “How does this work?”

  “We wait out here,” Graham tells her like he’s some sort of wedding dress shopping expert. “They’ll bring her out once she’s dressed and put her up there.” He gestures to the little stage-like area in front of us.

  All eyes turn to look at Graham.

  “What?” he asks. “That’s how they do it on that show, right?”

  “What show?” I ask.

  “That show about shopping for dresses. You know what I’m talking about.”

  “There’s a show about buying wedding dresses? Who would watch that?” I’m not sure if I’m more surprised that this show exists or that Graham’s been watching it.

  “Oh, Say Yes to the Dress?” The other sister’s apparently a fan.

  “You’ve been watching a show called Say Yes to the Dress?” There’s no way I can let Graham off the hook for this. “On purpose?”

  He’s unfazed. “Sure. If I’m going to be a bridesmaid. It’s research.” The grin he gives me lets me know he’s enjoying this way too much. I stare at those perfect teeth and seethe.

  “That’s so sweet,” sister number one tells him and gives Graham a bright smile. “I’m sure Julia appreciates how dedicated you are.”

  I roll my eyes, fully aware that everyone can see my juvenile behavior. Julia’s mother gives me a warning glance, but luckily we’re distracted from Graham’s awesomeness by the arrival of Julia in the first frilly white number. I’m thankful I’m sitting next to him. It keeps me from seeing the look on his face when he sees his dream girl all dressed up to marry someone else. As it is, I can feel him tense up—one of the drawbacks of being squeezed together on his pink monstrosity of a sofa—but it lasts for less than a second. Then he’s back to being a relaxed, champagne-drinking bridesmaid.

  The ladies from the shop fuss over Julia, putting her on the raised platform and spreading out the dress’ train. The mothers ooh and aah seeing her in dress number one, but Julia’s wearing a frown.

  “It’s lovely,” Zach’s mother tells her and all the assembled ladies agree, nodding and clucking like a bunch of chickens.

  “I don’t know.” Julia twists to look at her back in the full-length mirror. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

  I think this whole afternoon is too much, but I keep my opinion to myself.

  And apparently the store employees think it isn’t nearly enough because they move to slap a veil on Julia’s head.

  “For a secon
d wedding?” Julia asks. “And this doesn’t really scream ‘beach,’ does it?”

  “It is a beautiful dress and you do look great in it,” sister two says, getting up from her fluffy pink chair. “But maybe something simpler? For the beach.”

  Sister one agrees and then the two of them are off searching the racks with the sales ladies, looking for the perfect beach wedding dress which, if you ask me, could be purchased at any department store. But no one is asking me, obviously. The frequent yelps of excitement coming from deep in the piles of dresses have me wishing for more champagne. As if reading my mind, Graham reaches for the bottle and gives me a refill.

  “Not going to help?” he asks, innocently.

  “That’s not really my area of expertise.” I take a big swig of my bubbly.

  “I’m well aware of that,” he tells me, taking advantage of our close proximity to whisper in my ear. “But you have plenty of other things you do at expert level, baby.”

  My cheeks flush, the implication clear. And now other parts of me are getting hotter than appropriate for the bridal shop. I do my best not to meet Graham’s gaze, but he’s too close to fully avoid. When he pushes his hip hard against mine I almost fall off the sofa, giving him the opportunity to wrap an arm around me under the guise of steadying me. An arm that he leaves hanging off my shoulder.

  “Oh my gosh, look at these!” one of the interchangeable sisters shouts as she rejoins the group. “Julia, there are so many gorgeous dresses back there.”

  “Now we’ve got plenty of choices,” the other sister announces as she comes back toward us, a huge rolling rack of dresses trailing behind her. “One of these will be perfect, I know it.” She runs her hand over the closest dress. “I can’t wait for you to try these on!” She’s almost bouncing up and down with excitement. I half expect her to rub her hands together with glee.

  Julia moves toward the rack, the back of the current dress dragging along behind her. “Oh, this is more like it.” She moves the dresses around, sliding the hangers on the metal bar, but stops abruptly when she reaches a particularly sparkly one in the middle. “This one isn’t exactly beach, Kat.”

  “Oh, that one,” the sister I’m guessing is Kat says in the most breathy way imaginable. “That one I just wanted you guys to see. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

  More oohs and aahs from the group as Graham and I drink our champagne fused together on the couch. By now he’s slid his arm down behind me and is rubbing his thumb along the small of my back. Angry looks are having no effect on his roaming hand and the only thing keeping everyone else from noticing is this supposedly fabulous dress.

  “It is gorgeous, but you’d have to be a supermodel to pull off that look,” not-Kat says. Which makes her Amy by process of elimination, not that I can concentrate on keeping straight which sister is which with Graham trying to shove his hand down the back of my pants.

  “It would take someone gutsy to wear it, that’s for sure,” Julia agrees, turning to look at me. Graham’s hand instantly stills. “Cassie, you should try this on.”

  “What? Why?” I protest, well aware that all eyes are now on me. “I’m not trying on a wedding dress.”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Julia is a horrible liar.

  “Oh, Cassie, this dress would be perfect for you,” Amy gushes. “You have to at least come and look at it up close.”

  I have no interest in looking at the dress and even less interest in trying it on, but I take the opportunity to extricate myself from Graham’s grasp and propel myself toward the fluffy white concoction everyone else is drooling over. It really is beautiful, even if it’s almost blinding in its razzle dazzle.

  “There’s an awful lot of… stuff on it, don’t you think?” I ask tentatively, running my fingers over the intricate beading on the bodice.

  “Well,” Julia’s mother interjects. “Depending on the venue you might want a little sparkle. It would depend on what kind of wedding you were having.”

  “I’m not the one having a wedding,” I remind everyone. “I’m the one never having a wedding, remember?” No one seems convinced and I distinctly hear Graham stifle a laugh. He tries to hide his smile behind his champagne flute but his mouth is way too big for that to work. I consider giving him the finger but that’s most certainly not acceptable bridal shop behavior. I settle on giving him a dirty look. It’s nowhere near as satisfying.

  “Alright, then I’m going to be forced to use my power as the bride to demand that you try on this dress,” Julia proclaims, hands on her hips. “Go on, get yourself into the dressing room and squeeze your gorgeous butt into this thing.”

  “You can’t make me try on a wedding dress,” I argue. “There’s nothing anywhere that says a bridesmaid has to try on wedding dresses.”

  “Fine. Then I’m making you try on this dress because I think it might be your bridesmaid’s dress. I might want you to wear it at the wedding. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”

  We all know this is unreasonable, but there’s no sense in fighting it. Until I wrap myself in this giant piece of taffeta nothing else is going to get done. “Fine.” I down the rest of my champagne in one gulp. “I’m at your mercy, bridezilla.”

  The flurry of hands shouldn’t surprise me, but before I can take another breath, I’m being muscled to the back toward the dressing rooms. My shirt gets pulled over my head, sticking under my chin. In two seconds I’m down to nothing but my underwear. Even Graham couldn’t have done it any faster.

  “You’re going to need to lose the bra,” Kat tells me, giving me the once over. “This dress is strapless.”

  “How much do you work out?” Amy asks me, obviously admiring my ass. “Not to sound creepy, but your body is banging.”

  Julia hands me a strapless bra two sizes too small. Why is everyone in here with me? Add in the two sales ladies and there’s a full house to see me nearly naked. “This bra will never fit,” I inform Julia as I stand there in nothing but my panties. “Is all this really necessary?”

  Julia gives me a look that begs me to be a good sport as the ladies get the dress ready for me, pooling it near my feet so I can step into it. “You can try it on without a bra,” one of them tells me as she urges me into the giant white cupcake. “You would buy the proper foundational garments for the actual day, of course, but just to try it on it should be fine.”

  I’m never buying anything called “foundational garments” especially not ones meant to go under a blindingly sparkling wedding dress. But I keep all my sass to myself and let them push and pull me into the dress. The satin slides up my body, pulling at my hips.

  “This isn’t going to fit,” I protest but no one’s really listening to me. The sales ladies tug and tuck until they’re satisfied, plumping up my boobs in the front of the dress and smoothing down the fabric in the back. I’m told to suck in as they zip me and then everyone’s staring. The silence is deafening. “Okay, how ridiculous do I look?” I ask and wait for the inevitable laughter.

  “Oh my God,” Kat and Amy say at the same time.

  Julia’s got her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide and misty.

  “Veil?” asks one of the ladies and three traitorous heads nod in agreement. She scurries off to get one as the other woman fusses with the skirt.

  “We’d take it in a little here, obviously. And work a little magic on the top here…” She takes two steps back and gives me an appreciative nod. “Do you want to go out and show everyone else or do you want to keep this dress a secret from your fiancé?”

  “My what?” I sputter. “I’m not engaged. She is.” I point a finger at Julia.

  “Oh, well, your boyfriend then. He’s going to love you in this dress.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “That man out there isn’t…” I’m glad Julia seems to be too busy hunting through the veil options with sales lady two to find this conversation interesting.

  “No, no, no, no.” I’m emphatic. �
��He’s my…” Friend? Bed buddy? Secret lover?

  She silences me with a wave of her hand. “Then let’s get you out to the big mirror.” She helps me with the back of the dress—it’s heavier than I expect—and we all traipse out to the front of the store. As the other girls fawn all over me, positioning me on the platform and sticking a tiara on my head, Julia and Zach’s mothers start with the expected noises. Everyone’s pulling out their phones and snapping pictures.

  “No blackmail photos,” I beg, turning my head and accidentally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  Holy shit.

  The dress really is beautiful. It skims over my hips and flares out into the slightest train. It’s elegant and the beading and sparkles catch the light as I twist to see myself better. I look like a grown-up. Like a bride.

  When I turn, mouth open, to look at everyone else I notice Julia’s mother tearing up. Francine is actually crying at the sight of me in this dress. “Oh, Cassie,” she says, whispering with a reverence she usually reserves for a good monogram. “That’s the dress. That is the one.”

  But I’m not getting married. I don’t even want to! I remind myself of this as I take another look at my reflection. The trifold mirror lets me see myself from all angles and if I look over my shoulder, I can see Graham’s hulking figure on the couch. He’s still holding his champagne flute, but he’s got it at an awkward angle, letting what’s left of his drink drip out onto the floor. We lock eyes and he’s all I can see. His mouth’s slightly open and the goofiest grin is playing at the corners. The way he’s staring at me makes it hard for me to breathe and I’m relieved that I’m the only one noticing the look on his face. Until Francine turns to look at Graham and then back to me, her lips pulling into the slightest smirk.

  “When it’s time, this is the dress.” And she gives me a wink.

  24

  Cassie

  I feel like my face is one fire. When I trudge up to the nurses’ station Delia takes one look at me and orders me home.