HUNTER, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER, I’M COMING OVER.
Me
My bad. I’m fine…fell asleep.
Ashlie
Boy! You irk me.
Me
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ASHLIE
“It looks the same as the other one, which you didn’t like…” I remind Kayla. She frowns in the illuminated mirror at the frilly A-line gown pinned to her body. White floral wallpaper lines the showroom at Wedded Bliss, with plush ivory carpet throughout. The warm track lighting in the bridal shop casts a glow over her locs that would make her appear angelic if it weren’t for the scowl on her face. This Saturday dress shopping excursion in LA has been much like the last one in San Francisco, except we’ve found my maid of honor gown.
“I thought the silver accents might look better than the all-white.”
“But you didn’t like theshapeof the dress…”
“Ugh, I know!” Her shoulders slump as she buries her face in her hands. “I’m never going to find it.”
I grip the mauve velvet arms of my chair to stand, my pink taffeta gown making an annoying swish with every step I take toward the pedestal. “That’s not true. We have plenty of time to find something. And if we don’t, you know that man will marry you even if you’re wearing a plastic bag. Hell, he’d probably elope if you told him that’s what you wanted.”
“I know.” She nods, still hiding behind her hands.
I peel them away from her face, making sure she’s looking me in the eye when I ask my next question. “What’s the mental block? You can’t possibly hate every dress here in California. Something else is going on…”
She sighs, her grimace melting into scrunched eyebrows and downturned lips.She needs a break. Pulling her by the hand, I lead her to the velvet sofa on the floor. “What if I’m not good at it?” she asks, scraping her thumbnail with her finger.
“You’re good at everything,” I tease, giggling at her eye roll. “Can you be more specific?”
“The marriage thing. The wife thing. The mom thing.”
“Are you—?” I gasp, because if this is how I find out she’s knocked up, she’s dead to me.
“No! Not pregnant. I’m just saying, I’ve never done this before. What if I’m not good at it?”
“Not good at the thing you’re already doing?” My eyebrows tick up, waiting for her to recognize her fallacy. “Girl, you two have been attached at the hip since you got together. It’s been five years, and he still looks at you like you were crafted straight from the cosmos. None of that is changing when you take his last name.”
“But what if it does?” Tears well in her eyes, and she races to catch them before they trail down her cheeks. “Everything has been so great. What ifthischanges it all?”
“Hey.” I slide my arm around her shoulders. “Have you talked to Chase about this?”
She shakes her head, a fresh wave of emotion hitching in her throat. “You know him. He’s so excited about the whole process. I don’t want to ruin the experience for him. I’m excited too, I’m just…”
“Scared.” I smile, leaning away to see her face. Kayla and fear of the unknown go together like peanut butter and chocolate. If she can’t see what’s over the hill, she spirals until the horizon is right in her face. It’s no wonder we get along so well. “You need to talk to him. It’ll make you feel better. Promise me?”
Nodding, she swipes her face one last time before getting back on the pedestal. She tortures herself with another glance in the mirror.
“How’s it going?” The bridal shop attendant peeks in to check on us.
“This isnotthe dress,” Kayla says, shaking her head as she walks toward the dressing room.
“I agree. This one doesn’t give you that ‘glow.’ I have a few more for you to try.”
They disappear through the curtain, and after a couple of minutes, Kayla walks back out in a flowy cream chiffon dress. Long lace sleeves enhance the champagne blossoms clustered across an empire waist. The flowers cascade down the full skirt with simple elegance. She’s beaming from ear to ear, not a tear in sight.
