by Brea Viragh
I highly doubted it.
We leaned in for the perfunctory greeting hug where chests and shoulders grazed but no arms extended. Leda gestured to the basket in her hand, a languorous Southern belle with apples for cheeks. Her movements were slow, fluid, deliberate.
“I brought these by for Duncan. And you too, of course.” She covered her mistake well. “A little thank-you present for helping me so much over the past few weeks. I appreciate the work he’s done.”
“What do we have here?”
“Cupcakes. A new flavor I’ve been working on, with spinach from my garden.” Leda gestured toward the contents of the basket and my stomach churned involuntarily.
“I’ve heard a lot about these cupcakes of yours.” She didn’t need to know of my ignorance. Glancing down at the gift basket, I saw the swirled crowns with citrine-colored frosting peeking out from purple tissue paper. I swallowed. “I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”
“I try my best. It’s a start-up business for now, but baking is my passion.” Leda shifted from foot to foot before handing the basket to me. “Here you are. Is Duncan coming up soon?”
Took her long enough to bring him up, I thought nastily. “He pulled out a moment ago to run some errands, but he’ll be back in a bit. I’m happy to accept these for the both of us.”
“Oh, yes. Of course!” She shook her head before turning those bright eyes in my direction.
At least I’d managed to hold my own today in the looks department. She may channel a Swedish model or famous actress, but I had the girl-next-door vibe going for me, which had to count for something. A breezy blouse and shorts completed my look. I’d gone for makeup too, since we had to deal with the public.
Leda straightened her shoulders and I noted the lack of a bra, my eyes drawn instantly to pert nipples peeking through her tank top. Damn her. Some people were gifted with innately perky bosoms.
“I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your precious time. Tell Duncan I asked after him.” She waved and pushed past me down the stairs.
I hated the way she said it, as though I had nothing better to do. “You take care now. And thanks again.”
Leda managed each step in five-inch heels which tipped her rear up in a way designed to capture attention. I ground my teeth and watched her saunter away. Only when I heard the sound of a car engine did I turn around and unlock the door.
“Everyone wants to push my buttons today,” I said to the open air of the hotel room.
The gift basket dropped from my hand, landing smack in the trash can.
**
I used Duncan’s cell phone to call August the following morning, at the former’s urging. I can’t say I was surprised when my own phone took an accidental dive into the toilet. Duncan’s fist slammed down in a disagreement and the cell catapulted from the sink in slow motion, somersaulting to land in the water with the merest plink of sound.
Since the man in question aimed to send me out of town with a list of shopping to accomplish, his phone shifted into my possession for the time being.
August answered on the first ring. “Duncan. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Sorry, it’s Isabel. My phone is out of commission at the moment so I’m using Duncan’s. Are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you.” His cool voice purred at me.
That made me smile. “I have a favor to ask.” I curled a finger around my hair and dreaded what came next. “I have some errands to run and Duncan assures me I need a friend by my side. I’m not able to handle things by myself, he says.”
August chuckled. “I’m always willing to give you a helping hand. Where is Duncan?”
“Working and sending me out instead.”
“He should be there with you,” August said, insinuating Duncan wasn’t performing his relationship obligations. “If he wants to quibble about you being incompetent.”
“Shut up about it. I’ll come pick you up.”
An hour later August shielded his eyes, stared at the sign for David’s Bridal, and scowled at me. “You should have told me we were trying on wedding dresses. I’d have made something up to get out of this predicament.”
“I figured if you knew, you’d say no. I don’t have anyone to help me pick something out and Duncan is chomping at the bit for me to get it done.” I patted his arm in faux sympathy.
“You couldn’t bring your new friend Leslie?”
“If I wanted to end the day with hanging myself. All you have to do is sit there and watch me try things on. And tell me I look pretty.”
His face brightened. “I might be able to manage a kind word or two.”
We pushed inside amidst the low-level hum of fluorescent lights. Saleswomen at the front desk bombarded us with the stealth and steadfastness of Navy SEALs. My chest tightened as I looked around at the acres of white gowns and accompanying accessories. Tiaras and rhinestones and veils, oh my!
The woman who beat the others to the punch took over as my assistant and I listened to the chipper, monotonous tones with half an ear. The other half heard nothing but the beating of my heart threatening an impending anxiety attack.
I’d never been good at shopping, sewing, or any other activity considered “girly,” which was why the majority of my wardrobe came from the nearest thrift store. I preferred to be left alone while I browsed the racks instead of having salespeople at my beck and call. Now, staring at a sea of white with a platoon of clerks, I felt like a general with an army I had no idea how to lead.
August must have caught my look of terror and smoothly stepped in.
“She wants something simple and elegant. Nothing too showy. Isabel is beautiful enough to elevate anything she wears.” He shot me a smile and my eyes caught on that square jaw with the sexy little scar below his cheek.
Nope, wrong reaction. I shook my head to clear those thoughts.
August turned his smile on the David’s Bridal associate and got the response we needed.
Our assistant, whose nametag appropriately read Hope, fluttered her hand above her heart in a swoon. “Is this just the sweetest thing, or what? I can tell you guys are going to make it, and I’ve seen a great deal of couples during my time. Although…isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?”
August grabbed my hand, kissing my knuckles to shut me up before I interjected. “Not if she surprises me before the night itself. Right, my darling?”
I nodded dumbly, trying to keep my eyelid from twitching.
Hope motioned for us to follow her into the back. I hissed to August, keeping several steps behind, “What the hell are you doing?”
He maintained his hold on me. “It’s less awkward for everyone if I’m the doting bridegroom instead of a creepy friend helping you try on clothes. It’s either you agree, or everyone thinks I’m gay, and I don’t feel like playing that part today.”
“If I didn’t already owe you…” I began, but left the thought unfinished.
So we traversed the aisles of white, off-white, ivory, and eggshell until we came to a rack of simple sheaths. Sans taffeta.
“These are some of our more popular dresses for the bride who wants a little less.” Hope took me in from head to toe before whipping a measuring tape from around her neck. “How tall are you? Five-seven?”
“On the money, sweetheart,” I muttered, trying not to appear awkward. The tape expertly wound around my chest, hips, waist, and other parts of my anatomy as August looked on.
“Yes, I think you’re about a size six, or somewhere in there.” Hope turned away from me toward the rack.
“You don’t think I can pick out a dress by myself?” I wasn’t sure what it was, the contented smile of a person who enjoyed their job or being slapped in the face with so many things screaming bride, but I was starting to get anxious.
“We have so many brides who think they know their style until they see the perfect dress,” Hope said as she shuffled gowns aside. “It
’s my job to figure out what you want and narrow it down to a select few. It makes the picking much easier, the choices less overwhelming, not to mention trying dresses on.”
“But I didn’t tell you what I want,” I insisted, trying to yank my hand away from August, who had grabbed it again and held on firmly.
“You’ve always been a fan of less is more,” he said to me. “So we’re looking for a dress without frills. No pomp and circumstance. No unnecessary frou-frou.”
“I’m not feeling too comfortable right now…”
He gave my hand a squeeze. “You always feel awkward when you shop. We had a nightmarish time picking out a prom dress, remember? Give Hope a chance and she’ll find you something great.”
“How do you know how I get? I don’t go shopping with you anymore. Maybe I’ve changed.” We followed Hope along a line of silky fabrics and I longed to slip in amongst the hangers and hide.
“Stop it, you haven’t changed a bit,” August said before we came to a halt. “This isn’t your scene and I know it. But if you play nice then we can get out of here sooner. I may even buy us some ice cream.”
Hope chuckled as she searched. “Look at you two. Talking to each other like you’re married already. When is the wedding?”
“Two weeks.” I raised a hand to my mouth to chew nervously at my nail.
August slapped it away.
“Wow, you are cutting it close.” Hope plucked something from the depths of the clothing rack, holding the fabric up to my skin and shaking her head. “No worries. We’ll take care of everything and have you walking down the aisle in style.”
In the end, Hope chose an assortment of dresses for me to try on, each more difficult to maneuver into than the previous. If these were on the low end of fancy, then I dreaded to see the other options. What did people want nowadays? Something channeling Marie Antoinette? More garter and lace than gown? I would need to be able to put it on by myself without any extra help.
“Try these on.” Hope held up two more selections. “You never know until you try.”
Shrugging, I went into the partitioned area with Hope at my back and entertained myself by imagining how many undergarments the woman saw on a daily basis. With her help, I shrugged into the sheath, slipping my arms through the sleeves.
Once everything settled into place, I moved to stand on the display platform, August’s eyes on me, before turning to the trio of full-length mirrors and staring hard at my reflection. The fluorescent lights lent my skin an unhealthy greenish tone so unbecoming of olive complexions. Yikes.
“This is a little scratchy at the back.” I tugged the lace down without getting my sleeves caught on the buttons.
“It happens with lace sometimes,” Hope said. “If you aren’t one hundred percent in love, then we can try another one.”
Of course, on to the next. Already my back ached and the rest of me wanted to drop on the ground in fatigue.
The next dress flared out at the bottom in what they dubbed a mermaid tail. I stumbled on the way up to the platform, tripped standing still, and executed an awkward waltz on the way down, resulting in me dropping to my knees amidst August’s claps.
Unflattering in any event.
“Not this one either?” Hope asked as she helped me rise.
My knee throbbed. “Definitely not.”
August sat holding my purse and clapped again as I got to my feet. “Magnificent performance, Miss Cook! Truly spectacular.”
I shot him a less than polite gesture and returned to the land beyond the curtain, unsure of how much more humiliation I could handle. Hope stood inside the space and studied me as I slipped into the third selection. At least she gave me a diversion from my embarrassment.
“So, you see a lot of naked women in your profession?” I asked to break the tension only I was feeling.
Hope chuckled. “More than you want to know.”
Three more dresses and I was ready to chuck the whole thing and go to Goodwill for a white pantsuit. Add a nice pair of earrings, a coiled silver bracelet, and I’d be ready to go.
“This isn’t working!” I growled to August as I waddled out of the dressing room. “I look like a marshmallow.”
“But such a cute marshmallow,” August claimed.
“Remind me again why I brought you here?”
“For moral support. I am your compass, your guide through the Valley of the Brides.”
I glared at August. “Jerk.”
“And that’s what you love about me, my little indigo bunting.”
“I’m not a bird.”
Hope went to the stockroom for pins, and I turned to August. “Right here and right now, I want you to hear me say this–I wish I wasn’t getting married.”
“What a shame. You don’t look half bad.” August gave me a wide berth as he circled the platform.
I sighed and dropped to the floor, knees shaking too much to hold me upright. “A justice of the peace would have been fine with me. If you hadn’t offered to play at the wedding, then Duncan may have come around to the idea of a smaller affair. Instead he’s blown it out of proportions and I’ve fought to scale it down.”
August held up his hands. “Don’t blame me. None of this is my fault.” He gave me a pointed look. “Although, if you really don’t want to get married, you don’t have to, you know.”
Feet scurried toward us as August helped me rise once more. “No, I do.” I plastered a smile on my face when Hope rounded the corner. I said it once more to convince him. “I do.”
Hope beamed at us when she returned, likely thinking she’d caught us rehearsing our wedding vows. Finally, at my wits’ end and ready to throw in the proverbial towel, I found something adequate.
“This is it! This is the one!” Hope clapped as I stepped from the dressing room for the last time.
“It’s not bad, right?” I turned in a circle so August could see the back. “Makes me look a little less curmudgeonly?”
“It does, darling. It does. Is this the one you want?” August asked.
“It’s the one I’m taking, yes.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror, at the dress of floor-length lace, with a V-neck, capped sleeves, and a natural waistline accented with a thin belt.
“We’ll do some tweaking and have it ready for you in a week.” Hope tugged the belt a bit to the left to center it, and brushed away non-existent flecks of lint from the skirt. “You can come pick it up next Wednesday.”
“Works for me.” I executed a quick curtsy—without tripping—and went to change. Score one for me.
“You’ll look stunning in that dress,” August told me solemnly when I came back out wearing my own clothes. “You are stunning.”
I scoffed. “You’re only saying nice things because you want ice cream and I drove.”
“A guy isn’t allowed to speak the truth? Fine, then.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You are not beautiful. You are a fat pig. And I don’t want ice cream.”
Somehow his joking banter put a smile on my face. “Better.”
August and I walked to the front of the store while I searched for my credit card. “This is an experience I never want to repeat,” I told him. “Too many options, and these lights make me want to shoot myself.”
“Calm down now. It’s over.”
“I don’t like feeling overwhelmed…oh, excuse me.”
A rather plump woman had emerged suddenly from the sale rack. The tip of my shoe caught her foot and before I knew it, I was going down.
Arms windmilled as I careened forward, slamming face-first into a display mannequin. My bracelet caught on satin and brought the whole thing down with me, ripping an expensive prom dress.
I landed in a heap on the floor and sat stunned for a moment while August and the woman tried to help me rise.
In the end I maxed out the rest of my credit card balance with my own purchase and the store’s policy of you break it, you buy it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You
would not believe the day I had!” I flopped on the bed next to Duncan and let my shopping bags tumble to the floor. “I never want to do this again. I’ve had a harrowing experience.”
He reached for one of the store containers, fingering the bright purple satin fabric that peeked out. “What is this? What have you done? Please tell me this isn’t the dress you picked out!”
“Of course not,” I said. “I had an accident and I paid for it. Literally paid.” I groaned and flung an arm over my eyes. “The next time I need a wedding dress, I’m sending you out. Even if you rub it in my face afterward. The dress is with the seamstress.”
“I’m sure you found a splendid gown, even if you had to spend a little extra,” Duncan said. “I gave you more than enough.” And there was his subtle reminder to me. He controlled the wallet. I remembered how being dependent came with a price even as my mind revolted.
He released the ruined prom dress and drew me closer, snuggling. “Did you have a nice time with August?”
“I suppose so. He took the opportunity to tease me every time something went wrong. Which happened more often than I thought it would, to be honest with you. He’s not a very good shopping companion.”
Duncan ran his lips along my neck. “Mm-hmm.”
I grinned and flinched a little when he hit a ticklish spot. “Are you listening to me?”
“Of course I am. I’m also loving on you. A man is entitled to it every now and then.” His fingers delved along the hem of my pants, probing.
I sighed under his ministrations while those lips went to work. “How was your day?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly.
“It was bad?”
“No, I simply don’t want to talk about it.”
His tone triggered something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and his immediate and somewhat tenacious attentions had my alarm bells ringing.
“Duncan, please tell me what you did today.”
“What’s it to you?”
