“That was not very live, laugh, wed of them,” he mutters, wings twitching in the breeze. “I hope those girls call Michael.”
“They will,” Amber replies. “They’d be stupid not to, and theydidn’t look stupid to me. They looked like they thought their bosses were idiots.”
“Their bosseswereidiots,” Roman sniffs. “Illegal idiots, even. Did you see that place? It didn’t even have a ramp. The only way in was a four-step staircase.”
I cringe. “I saw that in the pictures, but when I called, they swore they had appropriate accommodations for disabilities.” I groan. “I shouldn’t have believed them. I should have trusted whatever gut feeling made me even ask.” The words are sour coming out of my mouth, matching the churning in my gut in the face of my stupidity. I should have done better.
Roman shocks me by saying nothing, not rubbing my stupidity in my face or reminding me that scouting places for proper safety precautions is always the smartest move when it comes to keeping Ruby safe and comfortable. He doesn’t have to, though, because I’m managing to berate myself enough about it without his help.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Brian says. “You made an appointment at a bridal shop for your best friend—the same as a million best friends before you have done. This is onthem, not you.”
Staring into his sky-blue eyes, I almost believe him.
Almost.
“I’m hungry,” Frank declares into the ensuing silence, tearing my gaze away from Brian’s much—too-intense-for-comfort eye contact. “And exhausted. I’m calling my beloved Normie to pick me up, then going home to a delicious homecooked meal, free of drama and chaos.”
“I’ve made dinner reservations,” Liam says, looking up from his phone. “If he would like to join us instead, you’re both on the count I gave them.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she replies, already putting her phone to her ear. “I’ve sacrificed enough of my day off to thisnonsense—no offense, Ruby—and now I’d just like to be with my husband.”
Ruby, several steps away, does not take offense, waving at Frank as she tilts her head toward Will, who kisses her forehead again before bringing her back to the group, a calmer woman.
I study her for any lingering ailments—physical or otherwise—that our first wedding dress shopping trip may have left her with, but find only her usual state of mild annoyance.
And to think, less than a year ago Will would have made her blood rise ever higher instead of being the one who was talking her off the ledge.Iwould have been the one talking her off the ledge. Or, just as likely, joining her on it.
“Ruby,” Liam addresses her, “on Tuesday, September 3rd, I’ve arranged for a private dress selection at my home, to avoid any further…” His eyes narrow as he searches for the word most fitting, before he settles on, “less-than-cute experiences.”
Geez, this katrillionaire is nice.
“Thank you!” Ruby squeaks—squeaks!—knuckles going white as she tightens her hand around Will’s. “You really didn’t have to do that!”
My eyes dart from Ruby to Liam, then back, then to Will, whose mouth tilts in amusement, then to Roman, whose face is closer than I expected it to be and just as confused as my own.
Is Ruby…scaredof that guy?
Untangling myself from Roman, I take a good, long look at my best friend’s face. Then, I laugh. She’stotallyscared of him. Gracious, that’s cute. Scowly, grumpy Ruby, afraid of a man who gives strangers jobs at the drop of a dime—and gifts her absurd amounts of money for her wedding—after taking on a significant role in the planning of said wedding, despite his high-power, high-demand job. He, clearly, loves Ruby and Will very much.
And Ruby is shaking in her boots just because he spoke to her.
This ishilarious.
While I think of ways I can use this to tease my dear, silly friend, Frank’s husband shows up to whisk her away, and the rest of us begin the short trek to the parking garage nearest here, where Amelia’s car—she picked up the girlie portion of the bridal party for this fabulous outing—along with Liam’s and Roman’s await us.
Liam tells the drivers the address for the restaurant, and we all pick a vehicle. Amelia and Brian take Amelia’s car; Liam and Amber take his; and Will, Ruby, Roman, and I pile into Roman’s. Will and Ruby take the back seat, the better to kiss and cuddle, I’m sure, which puts me on passenger duty. AKA, music duty.
Or it would be music duty if Roman didn’t snatch my phone out of my hand and declare, “If you turn on a Barbie soundtrack right now, I’m going to drive us off a bridge.”
“Well,excuse mefor trying to insert some joy back into this awful day. Your sister, by the way,likesthe Barbie soundtracks.”
His eye twitches and his nostrils flare, but he concedes, reluctantly handing the phone over with a snooty, “Fine.”
I twist in my seat, stretching my seatbelt taut against my chest as I look at Ruby. “Barbie in the Pink ShoesorBarbie as the Island Princess?”
“Pink shoes,” she answers, not a moment of hesitation, and I grin.
Roman says nothing, merely flicking his eyes to his rearview mirror to check on his sister before putting them back on the road, a frown gracing his lips.
