Unabridged

by Melinda De Ross

  “Do you like any of the models?” she asked.

  “I love them all, they’re splendid!” I exclaimed, moving from dress to dress, unable to decide which one I liked best. This was the dream of every bride, and even though I wasn’t a fussy Bridezilla—yet— I couldn’t help but want to be stunning on my wedding day.

  I was struggling to decide which gown to try on first, when Madame Romanova said, “I think I have the perfect dress for you. Come with me.”

  I followed her through the snowy-white miles of exquisite lace to a set of three large fitting rooms. Next to them was a door, and after telling me to wait a minute, the designer reappeared carrying a gown. I was disappointed that I couldn’t see how it looked on a mannequin, but she urged me to try it on.

  I stripped inside one of the dressing rooms, then slipped into the dress. The material was soft as the touch of a butterfly and just as velvety, sliding over my skin with a sensual rustle. It was all white satin, with a rigid underskirt that made it look fluffy and round. The upper part was strapless, sporting an edge pattern of pearls and tiny diamonds, which meandered down one side and hip until it reached the long train. It even fit my breasts and the cleverly designed cups pushed them up and forward like a corselette. I lifted my hair up and held it with one hand, as I turned to study the result.

  When I looked into the mirror I gasped in admiration. The foreign image of a gorgeous goddess stared back at me, amazed herself at her beauty. Now I understood why this eccentric designer was so successful. Her secret didn’t lie only in gorgeous models and expensive fabrics. Somehow, she managed to highlight one’s interior beauty as well as the exterior one. The dress simply made me glow. Or maybe it was the haze of happiness around me.

  I opened the door of the dressing room and stepped outside, under Natalia’s approving gaze.

  “Yes, I thought this was the one for you,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. “Here, put these on too.”

  She handed me a pair of fine satin gloves that passed my elbows, and a diamond tiara with a veil hemmed with tiny diamonds.

  “Let me,” she said. Taking a few pins from a nearby table, she fixed my hair up, the way I planned to wear it at the wedding, then put the tiara on my head.

  I looked like a fairytale queen as I waltzed around that huge white room, with its miles of mirrors, twirling and spinning like a mad woman, while the designer watched me smiling contentedly.

  Finally I came to a stop, letting the soft satin settle around me. I turned to her and declared breathlessly, “Madame Romanova, I’ll buy this dress even if I have to sell one of my kidneys to pay for it!”

  A few months later . . .

  “Oh my Jesus Lord, I’m going to die!” I wailed as I dashed yet again to the bathroom, under Blade’s sympathetic gaze. I’d almost carved up a path with my footsteps between the bedroom and bathroom on my numerous daily trips when I succumbed to morning sickness for the past five months.

  When I managed to crawl back to the bedroom, I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking worriedly at me.

  “Are you okay?”

  I heard this stupid question every time I got sick, and my answer was still the same.

  “No, I’m not okay! You bastard, you’ve done this to me.”

  I dragged myself back into bed, holding my bulging belly. Blade’s lips twitched and he lay down beside me. He removed my clenched hands gently, then began massaging the small mountain where his son rested, with soothing, circular motions. I uttered a tiny sound of contentment, breathing deeply through my mouth as the nausea began to subside. These bouts of queasiness were the only thing that was hard to bear during pregnancy. I’d had them from the very beginning, but in the last week they started to decrease in frequency, as did the pain and tension in my breasts.

  “Do you want me to fix you some breakfast?” he asked tentatively, placing random kisses on my swollen abdomen. I groaned and curled my lip in disgust, shaking my head with my eyes still tightly shut.

  “I don’t want to even hear the word food for the next four months,” I moaned.

  “Not even a fruit salad with strawberries and cantaloupe, and a lot of cream?”

  I opened one eye and rolled it toward him.

  “And chocolate chips?”

  “Whatever you want, baby.”

  I sighed and heaved my big, clumsy self to one side.

  “Oh, what the hell? If I’m going to puke anyway, I might as well have something to throw up.”

  When we reached Unabridged headquarters an hour later, we each headed to our respective work spaces. I stopped by Belle’s office for a quick cup of tea and gossip. When she spotted me she patted my belly, as she did every single morning, then invited me to have a seat on a chair that was half the size of my ass.

  “No, thanks. I’ll never get out of that chair if I sit,” I said, propping a hip on the edge of her desk.

  “You’re imagining things, Angie. You’re not nearly as big as you think you are,” she said, as she poured me a cup of tea. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’m knocked up. If I knew this was going to be such a journey through hell, I would have put Blade off ‘til retirement,” I joked.

  “Ah, I know you’re loving every minute of this. Has Junior kicked today?”

  “Ha! I feel my liver black and blue. I think he might have taken up tennis this week.”

  We both laughed. My phone started ringing and I let the Jingle Bells tune play for a full thirty seconds before I answered. It was Mom.

  “Hi, baby. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Belle and I were just speculating on what sport your grandson is practicing this week.”

  “How sweet,” she said indulgently. “Were you sick this morning?”

  “Yes, but I think it’s getting better. Or maybe I’m just getting used to it.”

  “It will stop, you’ll see. I was sick nearly the whole time I was pregnant with you.”

  “I must buy you presents more often,” I told her, impressed.

  She laughed, then said, “Listen, I called to tell you I asked Jack to dinner for Christmas.”

  “Really?” I stretched out the word. “I hope this Mister Mason is going to make an honest woman out of you. Blade and I must have a chat with him soon.”

  I could almost picture her blushing because of my teasing tone.

  “Well, we wanted to wait until the Christmas dinner to tell you, but... He proposed to me last night.”

  Her quiet statement made me squeak, my eyes bulging in excitement. We all expected Mom’s boss to ask her to marry him, after they’d been dating for several months, but it was still a great surprise.

  “Oh Mom, I’m so happy for you! He’s a nice man and I know he will make you happy.”

  “I think so too,” she confessed shyly. “I’m glad you’re okay with this, Angie. I know how much you suffered when your father died, even though you were just a baby.”

  “We both did,” I said, sobering. “But you deserve to be happy. Loneliness is something nobody should bear. I’m delighted you finally found a life partner after all these years of solitude. Congratulations, Mom.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, sounding grateful and a tad weepy. “Well, I’ll leave you to your business. Will you stop by here tonight?”

  “You bet we will. We have to celebrate. Invite Jack as well, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye, honey.”

  I put the phone back into my bag with a dreamy, melancholic feeling seeping into my heart.

  “My Mom’s getting married,” I told Belle.

  “I already gathered that,” she said excitedly. “I’m so happy for her!”

  “Yeah, me too.” I sighed. “It was about time.”

  “This has been a great year for everyone,” she remarked smiling and reclined in her chair with her tea.

  “It has. Well, I’d better get going before this whole holiday blues nudges my unstable hormones. I cry like an idiot these days, with no reason.” I s
natched my bag and headed toward the door. “Later!”

  I walked into my office and turned on the heat. Outside it was snowing lazily. I watched the flakes floating down dreamily as I shimmied out of my oversized gray coat hemmed with fur—one of the many pre-Christmas presents from Blade. I sat down in my chair and was just about to turn on my laptop, when I spotted the envelope waiting on my desk. I looked at it in dismay for a moment, then picked it up to study it.

  A slow smile spread over my lips when I read the address and the name of the sender. And as I opened it carefully, I wondered what my faceless friend Zorro Kalashnikov had discovered this time.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking the time to read Unabridged. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends about it and posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.

  Thank you.

  Melinda

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Melinda De Ross is an international author of Romanian origin. She writes in two languages, and her books combine the elegance specific to the European style with the modern appeal of the American culture.

  She has a Law degree and has been a professional target shooter for over a decade. Her favorite genre to read and write in is Romance, and anytime she prefers to watch a classic movie instead of going to a noisy club.

  She loves to hear from her readers, and you can find her at: http://melindadeross.com/

  And now, let’s find out more about The Job Blower, a romantic comedy that will blow your socks off! You can read it for FREE if you subscribe via email to my website, melindadeross.com

  THE STORY

  Camilla Jackson is an ordinary young woman with an extraordinary knack for attracting disaster. When she is fired from her job as a secretary at a law firm, she realizes she has no idea what she wants to do next. Every job she does land ends up tragi-comically.

  But when she meets the drop-dead-gorgeous journalist, Carter Evans, her life seems to brighten. Until she discovers that he hides some very deep and painful scars. It remains to be seen if she will be able to help him heal and, in the process, find her own path in life. That is, if she manages to overcome her accident prone nature, which gets her into serious trouble…

  THE JOB BLOWER is a lighthearted, laugh-out-loud Romantic Comedy, the kind of book that you will keep in your bookshelf and reread to brighten your days and spice up your nights.

  THE EXCERPT

  I stopped by the supermarket and bought half a gallon of ice cream, three boxes of chocolates and a few other similar items any girl needs during a crisis. I’d just paid for my purchases when I realized I needed to pee quite urgently. I grabbed my bags and headed toward the ladies’ room. No one was about, but when I opened the door to a stall, I was confronted by the naked hairy ass of a man. I nearly dropped my bags in my indignation.

  “Get out, you asshole! This is for women,” I shouted.

  “So is this,” he said, turning around with his penis in his hand. I couldn’t help but stare for a moment, repulsed yet fascinated by the tiny appendage protruding from an impressive forest of pubic hair.

  “Put that thing away and get out of here,” I shrieked, noticing from the corner of my eye that two other women had stepped into the room and were chattering loudly. They couldn’t see the guy, but I heard their intakes of breath when the guy asked me, “Wanna touch it?”

  I pointed toward the door.

  “Out!”

  “No, no. Right here, so everyone can see,” the pervert said, still holding his wanger and wiggling it at me.

  “Jesus!” I heard one of the women echoing my thoughts aloud as she inched closer to see what was going on. “Martha, call security!” she told her friend in a high, snooty voice. “Tell them there’s a naked man in the women’s restroom.”

  The other woman took a peek at the exhibitionist, then clamped a hand over her eyes with a gasp and ran toward the door. I rolled my eyes in disgust and followed her. There weren’t many shocking things in Jersey, and I was really hard to shock.