“Turn around,” she said testily.
“No, you’re ruining my day,” I said, not giving a shit about the fact I was trying on wedding dresses. Truthfully, I’d been dreading it. I just never saw myself as a delicate bride. If I had a real choice in the matter, I’d probably wear scrubs and Chucks and walk down the aisle to old-school Eminem. Grant had insisted we do it a bit more traditional, and I’d reluctantly agreed.
“Sorry,” she said with a sigh, her green eyes getting larger as she realized her behavior on what was supposed to be an important day for me. “God, I’m so sorry!” I saw emotion pass over her and guided her over to the Victorian-style, plush green couch that sat in the middle of the fitting room. It was the only thing in the room that wasn’t white. Avoiding the huge row of mirrors, I turned to my sister with determination.
“Spill it,” I said evenly.
“I finally broke up with Josh and I feel so guilty. I was so wrong. What I did to him was wrong.”
“So your ex came back and you didn’t drop your boyfriend and go running back to Dean. It didn’t take you another year to realize you didn’t love him enough. It took you a month. Aside from the guilt, aren’t you happy about Dean?”
“No, I don’t want him, either.”
“Liar. Wake up, stupid. Everyone at my engagement party knew you showed up with the wrong dude.”
“Nice, Rose,” she said, lifting a freshly filled glass of champagne to her mouth.
“I’m being nice. That’s the nice way of putting it.” I leaned into her. “I love you but you have got a decision to make: shit or get off the pot with Dean. Seriously, the man is practically carrying his balls around in his hand.”
Dallas spit out her champagne as she turned to me and began wiping furiously at the drops that didn’t land on my dress.
“Stop it, it’s fine,” I said, pushing away her hands and stilling them. “You love that man.” She averted her eyes and I knew the subject was dropped before she spoke.
“Okay, no more talk about men. I’m totally done with them for the moment.” Dallas’s eyes softened even more as she studied me. “Rose, give me five minutes with what’s inside my purse, okay? Just five minutes.”
“Fine,” I said, moving to sit back on the couch as she stopped me and turned me towards her.
“Still a tomboy in every way,” she toyed as she pulled out her makeup bag.
“I just don’t know why all this is even necessary. It does nothing but make us look like liars, you know. He’ll know this isn’t what I look like,” I said, spitting out a fiber of powder brush caught on my lip.
“I believe the idea is to enhance,” Dallas said, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated.
“It’s not like I don’t wear makeup. You aren’t dressing a Neanderthal, woman!” I said defensively. But I was sensitive and uncomfortable with all of this, and Dallas knew it.
“Oh so sensitive,” Dallas teased as I resisted the urge to throttle her. “And lip gloss or Chapstick is not considered makeup. Hold still or I’ll do thicker eyeliner.”
“The hell you will,” I said as the salesclerk came in with shoes to match my dress, leaving bobby pins on the table beside Dallas, who gave her a thankful wink. Dallas layered my face in what felt like an exaggerated amount of cosmetics and had just fastened in the very last bobby pin available to my head as Jennifer burst through the boutique door.
“Sorry I’m late. Alex wouldn’t let me leave until he got on the plane. You know he—”
I stood, nervously looking between the both of them as Jen’s mouth dropped open in shock and instant tears fell silently down her cheeks. “Shit,” she muttered as she took a step towards me.
“Shit,” Dallas repeated as tears of her own fell rapidly from her eyes.
I reeled on my sister. “Dallas, you don’t cry!”
“I know,” she said, a small laugh-filled sob escaping her as she nodded at Jen. I could practically see the mental fist bump between them. “You either,” I scolded Jen as she rolled her eyes and wiped underneath them with her fingers.
I blew out a breath of frustration, turned to look at my reflection in the wall of mirrors, and froze.
“Shit,” I muttered as a slow, pride-filled smile spread across my face and a tear formed in the corner of my eye before it slid down my cheek.
Grant
Christmas Eve
“Foster, you’re outta here. I can’t afford any more overtime. Don’t you have a bride to get to?”