Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
I would never complain. She’s her old self again, vibrant and alive and bossy. Seeing her like this, hearing the strength and excitement in her voice, reminds me how much I’ve missed this side of her.
“You really should consider being a wedding planner.” I grin at her in the mirror when she finally looks up from the device and rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. You’d make a killing at it.”
“Eh. I don’t know if I would care half as much if the wedding was for a couple of strangers.”
“I want you to know I appreciate all the work you’ve put into this. Seriously, everything you’ve thrown together in a week…?” I’m still not sure how she did it. Though I did overhear her bullying the hell out of some poor florist and reminding them of the rush fee they charged.
I guess she had a point. When you pay a rush fee, you expect results. And the results are stunning—I’ve only gotten a few glimpses of the archway they constructed on the lawn off the patio, but what I saw was breathtaking. Like our bouquets and boutonnieres for the men, there’s an array of cream, red, orange, and yellow roses to fit a fall theme. My bouquet is entirely cream, while hers is red, and both are so lush and fragrant I can’t help but take a sniff every time I get a chance.
“How are you feeling? The dress isn’t too tight, is it?”
I run a hand over the bodice of my white satin gown. Its lace overlay conceals the fact that I’ve gotten a little thicker around the middle—I haven’t popped yet, but I’m starting to put on a little bit of weight. “It’s great. If we waited another week, that might be a different story.”
Standing, I take in my reflection in the full-length mirror behind the bedroom door. The sleek, sleeveless satin flows over my body like it was poured in liquid form. The overlay’s sleeves run the expanse of my arms and the entire piece features pearl and glass beads that shimmer ever so slightly when I move.
Tatum adds another pin to the elaborate updo created by the stylists who came in earlier. It’s studded with beads matching those on the lace, and it makes me feel regal. Me. Regal. “I swear, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this will all have been a dream,” I confess as she inserts the comb attached to a short lace veil.
She then gently wraps her arms around my waist and grins over my shoulder. “I’ll pinch you, if you want. Stepmom.”
That is so strange to hear, and I know she only says it to tease me. I might technically be her stepmother once the ceremony is finished, but she’s always going to be the best friend who defended me against a bully the day we met. I’m just glad she’s not angry.
“No, thanks.” Turning, I can’t help but admire how beautiful she looks today—and much healthier than I’ve seen her in a long time. I’m not going to fool myself into believing all she needed was something to take her mind off things. I mean, that could be true, but that would also mean that once the wedding is over, she could go back to her depression. I don’t want to imagine that happening. Instead, I’d rather take in how the burgundy A-line dress sets off her blond curls and makes her green eyes sparkle. “I think we have a problem.”
Right away, her brows draw together. “What? I figured everything out down to the last detail. Don’t tell me somebody decided to fuck with my plans.”
“More like you’re too pretty to be my maid of honor,” I giggle while she gapes in shock. “You’ll upstage me.”
“I could strangle you.” She appears to think about it, though, and shakes her head. “No, then this will all have been for nothing. And I’ve already threatened to strangle my father twice today.”
“How is he doing?”
She blows out a frustrated sigh. “Please. He wants to act like this is all no big deal, but he’s been on edge all day and can’t stop double-checking every single detail, like I’m suddenly an idiot.”
“Oh! I thought he was feeling relaxed with you in the driver’s seat.”
She lifts a shoulder, sighing. “He wants everything to be perfect for you, just like I do, but he’s not exactly, you know, skilled at sharing his true feelings.”
“No way. I’m shocked.” When we laugh together, it feels like the old days. Like I have the old Tatum back. I hope that’s true. I don’t want to think of spending the rest of my life without her. It’s bad enough she’s running off with Romero first thing tomorrow morning. But she’ll be back. And we can be a family, finally.