She tries to spin around, but there’s a lot of dress, and not a whole lot of room. “So, what do you think?” she asks.
“I think you look absolutely gorgeous,” I tell her.
“Yeah?” she questions, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
“Sin’s eyes are going to pop right out of his head, no question,” I assure her.
She grins, peeking back at me over her shoulder. “I kind of love it. It’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.” I shift Nicky to the crook of my arm and draw out my cell phone. “Here, let me get a picture for you to send Carly.”
I stand up and take a few pictures of her in just the dress, then the consultant puts the veil on her so we can see her whole bridal look. Laurel can’t stop smiling, and I’m so, so happy for her. I can’t help feeling a little pinch of jealousy, though. I would have loved to wear a pretty wedding dress and veil, to walk down the aisle to my awestruck groom and dance the night away in his strong arms. Instead, I had a black dress, a lawyer/officant, and a casino lobby waterfall.
Oh well, I guess at least I got the handsome prince? The prince who stays out all hours of the night and won’t fuck me. Maybe I should have gone for the general. I laugh at my own thoughts of my birthday fairytale and Laurel looks at me, faintly questioning.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Oh, nothing you’d find funny. You look gorgeous, Laurel. Seriously, so freaking pretty, I can’t even handle it.”
She lights up again and admires her wedding dress some more before pulling the curtain shut so she can change out of the dress while I gossip with Nicky and finish my glass of champagne.
The champagne had me feeling good but I was afraid I would sober up, so when we get back to the house, I send Laurel off to find the men, and I go to the wine room. It’s closing in on evening, so I’m allowed to dip into the wine. Plus, why the hell not? Rafe literally has a whole room of wine, so someone should drink it.
I crack it open and pour myself a glass in the kitchen. After finishing about half of it, I meander up to the bedroom where I dropped several bags full of various items of clothing and shoes. I picked out a pretty blue satin top and tulle skirt outfit for dinner tonight that reminded me of a modern Cinderella look, so I dig it out and slip the skirt it on. A pair of sky blue, low-heeled sandals finish the look, but as I slide my arms into the shirt and pull the back together, I realize it zips from bottom to top, and I cannot get dressed in this damn thing by myself.
“Nuts,” I mutter.
I consider texting Rafe and asking him to come zip me up, but then I reconsider. Everyone in this house has seen me in a bra and panties, thanks to my dear husband (and trying on dresses with Laurel), so I leave the back of my dress gaping open and wander downstairs to find either a person to zip me up, or a wine glass—whichever I happen across first.
I happen across the wine glass first. While I’m standing at the sink drinking my wine without a care in the world, I hear the deliberate patter of loafers against the ground, and I recognize the sound of Rafe’s footfall.
Merrily, I glance at him over my shoulder. “Good evening, husband.”
His lips curve up with faint amusement, his gaze drifting around and putting together the pieces. “Are you day drinking?” he inquires.
“It’s evening,” I inform him. “We’ll be starting dinner soon.”
“Naked?” he asks, walking up behind me, pulling the two ends of my top together, and sliding the zipper up.
“No, I was just waiting for someone to find me and help me with that,” I tell him, before taking another sip of wine. “Turns out you have to be double-jointed to wear this shirt without assistance. I had Laurel at the store, so I wasn’t really thinking about it.”
“Lucky it was me,” he says lightly. “Imagine if Sin had been the one to find you.”
“Who cares if it would have been?” I murmur.
He runs a finger along the neckline of my shirt. “You want Sin to see you in your pretty white bra?”
“Someone might as well enjoy looking at it,” I answer slickly. “He paid for it, anyway. Maybe Sin deserves a bonus.”
I am 100,000% bullshitting (Laurel would murder me, for real) and I don’t actually expect it to ruffle any of his feathers, but Rafe grabs my hips and spins me around, backing me against the counter and looking down at me, his eyes dark with annoyance.
“Yeah?” he asks, his tone deceptively light. “You’d rather share Sin with Laurel than be mine, huh?”
I’ve had just enough wine and aggravation to offer him a sweet smile and tell him, “Even sharing, I bet Sin would fuck me more than you do.”
Every last trace of amusement evaporates. Rafe grabs my wrist and drags me through several rooms, up the stairs, and through the hallway until we make it back to our bedroom. I’m a little winded—and a little tipsy—when he slams the door shut, backs me up, and shoves me on the bed.
My blood warms with anticipation and I scoot back on my elbows. “Was it something I said?” I joke.