Always a Bridesmaid

by Cindi Madsen

  The raised eyebrow from Lexi conveyed this wasn’t a swearing type of a joint. Which solidified he didn’t belong in a place like this. Then she began searching through the sea of cream and white, the zing of sliding hangers filling the air.

  Addie lifted the dress nearest her. “I like this. Simple yet elegant.”

  Violet moved closer and flinched—clearly she didn’t have a poker face, so playing with her would be highly entertaining. “Um, that’s a slip. It goes underneath the gowns.”

  “Oh,” Addie said. Her breaths came faster and faster, and was she… Oh boy, those were tears. Ford had never seen her cry before, and a vise clamped onto his lungs, twisting tighter and tighter. At least he had plenty of experience calming panic attacks.

  Typically, he wouldn’t be scared that a person’s reaction might be to punch him, but he’d take a hit from Murph if it made her feel better. “Hey. It’s no big deal.”

  No move to swing, so he added a back rub to the mix. “This wedding thing’s new to me, too. Let’s take some deep breaths. In…” He sucked in a lungful with her. “Out.”

  They blew out uniform breaths.

  “If you wanna wear a slip, I’ll take out anyone who says you can’t.”

  Addie gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “There’ll be talk no matter what I do. I think that’s why I’m feeling the pressure, which is stupid. The entire town is just happy I’m gettin’ hitched. Forever I was the resident old maid, and everyone feared I’d end up alone.”

  “If you need me to permanently move to town to fill that position,” Violet cut in, “I can.”

  Lexi rushed over, and she and Ford made a Murph sandwich. “What’s wrong? Is it the shop? We can go to another.”

  “It’s not the shop.” Addie slapped a hand over her face. “This is so embarrassing. I guess I care more than I realized. I want the wedding to be perfect for Tucker, even though he says it’ll be perfect because it’s him and me.

  “But my mom and my nonna are debating every tiny thing and tugging me in opposite directions, and I’m overwhelmed, which makes no sense because poor Lexi is doing the majority of the planning.”

  Now Ford was out of his league. Head wound, no problem. Dehydrated hiker, he had the drill down pat. Part of him wondered if an IV would help—not that he had one on him.

  The urge to make it better swelled and swelled until his rib cage could hardly contain it.

  Violet turned to the bridal shop consultant. “Can you give us a few?”

  “Of course. I’ll get the champagne.” With a nod, the tiny woman on stilts was gone.

  Ford followed Violet, guiding Addie to the couch and lowering her onto the velvety cushions.

  “Do you want me to call Will?” Lexi asked. “Or Tucker or your mom?”

  Addie’s eyes went wide, and Ford was about to attempt an “I’m all the man she needs right now” joke when Violet took control. “Can you find her a bottle of water? She’s probably dehydrated.”

  Ford opened his mouth to argue she wasn’t showing signs of dehydration—not to mention Addie was a water peddler, constantly demanding her clients, football players, and their group drink more.

  Violet caught his eye, though, and he understood there was a method to her madness.

  A sense of purpose overtook Lexi’s expression. “I’ll be right back.”

  Once Lexi left, the mood lightened, and Violet sat on Addie’s other side and patted her knee. “I know this whole thing is overwhelming. You play football, right?”

  Addie nodded.

  “Okay, so when it comes to the wedding, you’re the QB. Yeah, you decide a lot, but Ford, Lexi, and me, we’re your…” Violet glanced at him for help.

  “I’m your left tackle, Lexi is your tight end, and Violet—”

  “Is the coach. I’ve got a playbook, too.” After a reluctant beat, she dug into the bag she’d brought along and withdrew the battered-yet-still-glittery purple binder.

  For such a tiny thing, it managed to send his blood pressure through the roof. Yet, he was also kinda turned on by Violet’s approach. Smart, breaking it down like that. Grounding Murph in the familiar.

  “Remember that you’re the bride,” Violet continued. “The whole reason we’re here. That means you get what you want, and if you don’t know what that is, we’ll help you figure it out. That’s what good teams do. Mind if I…?” Violet motioned to the diamond ring adorning her finger. “Classic band, emerald cut.”

  “Tucker insisted on getting a bigger diamond.” Under other circumstances, he’d mock the way Addie’s voice turned dreamy. “He thinks the football players will hit on me, so he wanted to ensure they saw it every time I taped up their knee or ankles or put them through PT exercises.”

  Violet opened the binder to a page marked bridal gowns. A few of them had star stickers, and if Ford wasn’t afraid of the answer, he might ask what that meant. Assumedly, they were her favorites. “These might be more ornate than you’d wear, but if you see anything you like, let me know. Then we’ll narrow our options. Of course, you might want to try some other styles, just so you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure that dresses have never been my thing.”

  “They might have dressy pantsuits if you truly don’t want a dress.”

  “My mom and my nonna might kill me twice if I went that route.” Addie turned to Ford, her wide eyes imploring him for advice he hadn’t a clue how to give.

  “It’s your show, Murph.” A lightbulb went off. “And don’t worry about us mocking you for wearing a dress. We got that out when you were Lexi’s bridesmaid.”

  “I heard that,” Lexi called, on her way over with a bottle.

  “I wasn’t keepin’ it a secret,” he hollered back. “Truth be told, you make whatever you wear work, whether you’re gussied up or kicking ass on the field.”

  “Aww, thanks, McGuire.” Addie turned her smile from him to Lexi as she handed her a bottle of water. “Thanks to Lexi’s wedding, I learned that I can rock a dress. I want to feel beautiful, and I’d like to stick to the more classic wedding gown thing.”

  Addie gave the heels on the pedestal a dirty look. “Those torture contraptions, however, are a no go. If I can’t wear my comfy sneakers”—she lifted her foot, displaying her gel kicks—“I’d rather go barefoot.”

  “I bet we can find an option that makes everyone happy,” Violet said. “But in the end, you decide which pass to throw.”

  Relief and desire made an interesting cocktail, the kind that left him gratified. Not only had they calmed Addie down, Violet had used football analogies that managed to be both useful and superhot.

  Ford stretched his arm and grazed Violet’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

  And with Addie’s freak-out over, she began pointing at the different gowns, making comments that Violet and Lexi understood and he went along with—yay, teamwork.

  The bridal consultant returned, and Violet rattled off terms Ford could hardly follow. Then she, the clerk, and Lexi headed toward the racks of dresses.

  Ford resisted the urge to put his feet up on the pristine pedestal.

  Addie slumped against the cushions and groaned. “I’m turning into a girl.”

  “You’ll always be a dude in my eyes,” he said, hoping he was speaking the truth. While he kept telling himself not much would change, Addie had acted different since she and Tucker had gotten engaged.

  “I care about the wedding stuff, though. I’m completely lost, but I want one day of feeling like a superstar. While also being comfy. And nothing too frilly, you know?”

  “Totally. In fact, that’s what I think every time I open my drawers to get dressed.”

  She laughed, and he laughed, too.

  “The other day I teared up over not knowing which font to put on the invitations. Then I was like, who even am I? So I cried some more.” Addie
rubbed a hand over her face. “It’s a big day, I get that. Since I’m not usually one to stress much, I didn’t think I’d get so emotional.”

  Her spine went stick straight, and she tucked a leg underneath her as she faced him. “The rest of the gang can never know I had this meltdown. If I survive it, I’d die of embarrassment.”

  “Takin’ it to my grave, I swear.” He held his hand to the square, like they used to do as kids. “Or may you hogtie me, throw me in a Bama cheerleading outfit, and parade me down Main Street.”

  Ford placed his hand over hers. “You deserve an amazing wedding, Add.” He searched for the right words, ones that would calm her and retrieve the logical girl he’d been friends with forever. “You and Tucker are the real deal. You managed to work things out in spite of the ups and downs, and that’s worth celebrating.”

  “Would you say it’s part of a full life, then?”

  Ford cast her a sidelong glare. “Really? You’re goin’ there?”

  “Just wondering.” She kicked off her sneakers. “Violet’s great, yeah?”

  As expected, this store was full of traps. “Yeah.”

  “After y’all left the table the other night, we agreed that she seemed funny and nice yet feisty enough to keep you in line.”

  “I don’t need to be kept in line.”

  “You keep on telling yourself that.”

  Ford swallowed past a throat that suddenly felt too narrow. “She sure knows a lot about weddings. That’s what I’m having a hard time ignoring right now.”

  “So? I’m fairly certain most women do. Have even dreamed of their own wedding and all that. Don’t make red flags out of molehills or whatever.” Addie hit him with her no-nonsense expression. “I just want you to be happy. The other night when you were playing pool, and even today, you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

  “Gear down, big shifter. Violet and I are just friends—and before you go and say so were you and Tucker, it’s different.”

  The way Addie’s mouth snapped closed meant he’d been right.

  “She’s sworn off men,” Ford said simply, although his insides rioted at the idea, and what the hell? Was he panicked she’d want to be with him or that she wouldn’t?

  “Don’t tell Nonna Lucia. She’ll ask her if she’s a lesbian, same way she asked me last year in front of Tucker.”

  “Sounds like your grandma, always leaping to play matchmaker.” Ford exhaled and ran his palms down his jeans. “It’s not a good time for me to get serious with someone, anyway. I’ve got puppies to train, and fire season is coming.” Come fall, there was usually a wildfire or two, and he always headed to help.

  “That’s a cop-out and you know it. No time is ever ideal for a relationship or to fall in love and lose your mind a bit. You think Doris would accept that excuse?”

  A band formed around his chest, so tight it hurt to breathe. Why did Addie insist on pushing? “Starting to regret telling you that story.”

  “If you really never want me to mention it again, I won’t, but—”

  “Then don’t,” he snapped. It’d come out harsher than he meant it to, but he wouldn’t take it back.

  “But,” Addie said, her dogged nature showing its head, “it’s not doing you any favors, sitting at home every night, waiting for an emergency call to come in. You’ll drive yourself mad. Then I bet you feel guilty when one does, because you’ve been hoping for one, and it means someone’s in trouble.”

  When did his best friend go and become a mind reader? He grunted in response, not wanting to admit she was right.

  “I say this out of love, McGuire. Life’s too short. The longer you take to start living it, the more regrets you’ll end up with. You’ve never done anything half-assed before. Don’t choose now, with Violet, to start.”

  …

  Arms loaded with dresses, Violet paused next to one of the fitting rooms, observing the big dude on the couch and the bride-to-be. Both a skosh out of place, but she loved how open they were to this whole adventure.

  Admittedly, wedding-dress shopping was akin to pouring lemon juice on an unhealed cut, but helping Addie narrow her options acted as a balm that minimized the sting.

  While happy to help, Violet worried that every time she brought out her binder, she was shooting herself in the foot with Ford.

  It should provide a sense of comfort and reinforce her willpower. After all, what guy—especially one like Ford—would willingly jump into a relationship with a woman obsessed with getting married?

  Not that she was obsessed.

  Not anymore, anyway.

  Didn’t mean she couldn’t mourn the loss of the aforementioned dream. In an attempt to avoid letting sorrow take hold, she would concentrate on Addie, try not to concentrate too much on Ford, and no matter what, she would. Not. Cry.

  “Time to try on the gowns,” the cheery bridal shop consultant said with a clap of her hands.

  She, Lexi, and Violet hung the dresses inside the nearest fitting room.

  Lexi posted herself next to the curtain in case Addie needed an assist, and with the bridal consultant there as well, Violet decided three was a crowd.

  She plunked herself next to Ford to prepare for the montage. He propped his elbow on the back of the couch and settled his palm on the nape of her neck. “You okay?”

  The brush of his callused fingertips bulldozed her raw emotions over the subject of matrimony, along with every thought in her head, and how did one go about breathing again? “Just peachy.”

  “Thanks for your help.” He toyed with her hair, and goose bumps prickled her skin. “Told you I was unqualified.”

  “You grounded her when she was beginning to panic. And honestly, I’d wonder about you if you were an expert on wedding dresses.”

  As soon as she said the words, she wanted to pluck them out of the air. Maybe it was her paranoia that made her translate his tight smile into I’m concerned about how much you do know.

  Her gut wrenched, her emotional scars nearing the surface once again.

  “I’m coming out,” Addie called. “And if anyone laughs, they’ll get a black eye.”

  “No one is going to laugh,” Lexi said, but she bit at her thumbnail.

  The curtains opened with a whoosh, and then the swishing of fabric became the soundtrack as Addie exited the fitting room. Her tense shoulders and the stiff way she walked screamed discomfort.

  Violet wasn’t sure if Addie’s unease came from not being used to dresses, disliking this particular gown, or if a stray pin was jabbing her through the yards upon yards of fabric.

  “Is that a walk of shame wedding dress?” Ford asked. “Looks like you took off with Tucker’s sheets but added a sparkly”—he gestured to the side, where a beaded floral applique held up the skirt—“thingamabob old ladies wear to church.”

  “Ford,” Lexi scolded, which saved Violet from doing so. Perhaps she should provide guidance on helpful feedback versus not-helpful comments.

  Addie kicked aside the heels that’d been on the pedestal and took their place. “Broach is the word you’re looking for. And you’re not wrong. It’s basically a fancy toga.”

  A gasp escaped the poor consultant, along with the designer’s name. While Violet never would’ve made the toga comparison, now she couldn’t unsee it.

  The next gown consisted of a tight, strapless bodice covered in floral lace and flared to a gauzy skirt. Even if Lexi’s face hadn’t lit up, Violet would’ve guessed she picked it out. It would’ve been a nice fit for the blonde, but Violet didn’t think it was Addie’s style, regardless of not having a dressy style in general.

  “It’s beautiful,” Lexi said.

  Addie hooked her thumbs in the top and hiked it up, but then the waist didn’t sit right. “It’s too fancy for me. All the flowers, and I”—she repeated the bodice-lifting move
—“feel like it’s gonna fall. And since I can read your mind, Lex, no, your bridesmaid dress didn’t fall off me and had a similar top, but this one is lower-cut and squeezes the girls harder than Tucker does.”

  Snickers went around the room, save for the consultant, who seemed to be experiencing a bit of shock.

  “I want to be comfortable sitting there in front of the town and most of the Auburn coaching staff.” Addie twisted the end of her ponytail around her finger. “Is a comfortable wedding dress even a thing?”

  Violet stood and circled Addie, studying the dress from every angle. “Would you settle for semi-comfortable? We might even be able to hit mostly comfortable, although you’ll still need help to pee.”

  “Lexi, I’ll let you handle those duties,” Ford said, and even the consultant smiled at that joke.

  The next gown fit Addie like a glove. Also strapless; however, it landed snuggly at her arm pits and covered more cleavage. It nipped in at the waist, showing off Addie’s figure.

  Ford cocked his head. “Did they forget to iron it? Why’s it so wrinkly?”

  “It’s ruched.” Lexi fluffed the billowing silk skirt and let it drop, demonstrating how wide it flared.

  Addie lifted the fabric to study it closer, displaying the fact that she still had on her yoga pants. “So, it’s the shar-pei of the dress world?”

  Lexi sighed. “Seriously, you guys?”

  Ford and Addie exchanged a glance, and then Ford said, “Next.”

  They had that silent conversation thing down pat, and while it caused a pinch of jealousy, Violet’s admiration for their friendship overpowered it. She also appreciated that Ford would hop in and be the so-called bad guy when Addie didn’t want to hurt Lexi’s feelings.

  To a certain extent, she had that kind of relationship with the Bridesmaid Crew—especially Leah and Amanda.

  Even better, she and Maisy were getting there as well. They’d spent several evenings talking and laughing, and this afternoon, as Violet had been finishing up at the bakery, Maisy had asked, “Would you like me to wish you luck on resisting Ford? Or do you want me to encourage you to go for it?”