I gasped.
“By the third time, I threatened to rip his balls off and shove them up his ass and out his throat. That was the last of him.”
I quickly wiped away a tear before I pulled Brighton in for a hug. “Thank you for being such an amazing friend to me, Bree.”
She squeezed me, then stepped back and rubbed at her eyes. “Now look what you’ve gone and done. You’re making me leak this foreign salty shit.”
Laughing, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand while Brighton snarled her lip. “Gross. Don’t get snot on that dress or those black leggings.”
“Stop closing your eyes, Arabella!”
“You keep coming at them with a stick!” I protested.
Bree rolled her eyes. “It’s called mascara.”
I glared at her. “I know what it is, Bree. I wear it.”
She forced herself to smile as she drew in a breath through her nose. “Then let me put it on.”
“It just makes me nervous. Why can’t I put it on myself?”
“For the love of all things!” Greer said as she walked into the bathroom. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the two of you were sisters with how much you bicker.”
“She won’t let me put on mascara! Oh! Wait, let’s do your eyeliner.”
I held up my hand and shook my head. “No, Bree!” I shouted. “I don’t wear a ton of makeup, and I don’t want to draw attention to myself and have some strange man gawking at me.”
Greer and Brighton both stared at me and I looked away. I swallowed hard and started to wring my hands in my lap. I never raised my voice, and I knew they were only trying to help.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and dropped my head. Greer was the first to come up and put her arm around me. “Hunter’s going to be there with you, Arabella. No one’s going to touch you.”
“And if they do, I’ll push them in a closet and make sure they’ll never be able to have kids.”
Greer gawked at Bree. “What?”
Bree shrugged. “Don’t worry, I know how far I can go with the law. I won’t really rip them off, just make them feel like they’ve been ripped off. I’ve had practice with lots of douchebags in Boston.”
I laughed, and Greer joined in.
After what felt like a round of laughing, I conceded. “Fine. Just don’t make the eyeliner stick out like a sore thumb.”
Brighton clasped at her heart. “Why must you wound me so deeply, Arabella Adams? This isn’t my first rodeo.”
After what felt like a lifetime passed, Bree pulled me out of the chair I’d been sitting in. We walked to the mirror, and I gaped. “Is that really me?” I moved my hand lightly down my face and trailed a fingertip across my pink-tinted lips, slightly chuckling.
Slapping my hand away, Bree said, “Don’t ruin your makeup!”
Greer walked back in and gasped. I turned to see her dressed in jeans and a sweater with her hair up in a sloppy bun on top of her head. She looked beautiful, and the glow on her face revealed how happy she was.
“Bree. Her hair! You’re officially doing my hair for my wedding,” Greer stated as she rushed over to look at me in the mirror. “Bella, have you seen the back?”
I shook my head. “I can’t get past my face.”
Greer rolled her eyes. “Please, your face has always been beautiful. Let’s talk about the hair.” She looked around for a mirror and found one sitting off to the side. “Look!”
When I turned around and glanced in the handheld mirror, I stared in wonder. “How did you make it look like you intertwined my hair like that?”
Bree beamed. “It’s so easy. You just place pieces underneath one another and keep doing it until you get a bun. I pulled some strands loose to give it a bit of a messy look. My hairdresser taught me how to do it for a Christmas party at my old law firm last year. Now, let’s get you dressed. Greer, wait until you see what she’s going to wear!”
I thanked the stars above I was wearing a button-up, oversized shirt and vest and wouldn’t have to worry about pulling anything over my head. Once I was dressed, I walked out of the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. I could hear voices coming from downstairs, so I slipped on my black boots and the bowtie and left it hanging undone like Annie had.
I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard Bree say, “You can both get away with wearing jeans and sweaters. You have men in your life. I, on the other hand, need to dress the part of a woman desperate for a one-night stand.”
“Why?” Abby asked.
“You know, speaking of that Christmas party,” Greer started, “you never did tell us what happened with that blind date.”