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“Hello, workaholic!” Aubrey greets me cheerfully and sarcastically in the same breath. “I’ve been summoned to get you out of the house for a bit. Lauren’s right.”
“About what?”
She giggles and shakes her head. “That you’re trying to become a hermit in here. Come on. We’re going out to the Breck.”
“Oh, no. No thanks. I’m working on Lauren’s design and—”
She tugs my wrist when I lift it to jerk my thumb at the seat I vacated. “Nope, I’m not hearing it. You need to get out, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Pushy, aren’t you?
An hour later, though, when we stroll along the sidewalk with Lauren, I’m glad Aubrey convinced—or browbeat—me into coming with them. Hanging out with friends simply for the sake of spending time together seems so foreign. I never went shopping idly. I either expected to let an assistant handle purchases for me, or I was limited with what I could spend from the allowance my mother permitted me out of the family account. Never before have I had a chance to simply chat and window shop with women my age, who are not only my peers but individuals who aren’t employees, friends of the family who matter for the sake of appearances, or colleagues to impress. Lauren and Aubrey have a solid friendship that includes me. They don’t make me feel like a third wheel and exclude me since they’ve been friends for so long. Instead, they ask me questions and seek my ideas about items.
In the one fabric shop we stop at, Lauren listens to me with rapt attention as I explain the differences of what she could have for her dress. The shop is bare bones compared to what I could find in a larger city, very limited compared to Paris’s offerings, but I have a start here.
“But can you find the others?” Lauren asks.
“Sure. I will just need to order it elsewhere.” I hold up a bit of white material. “But this is a start.” After I select the items for purchase, I feel giddy with the high of actually doing this. All these things won’t go toward a grade, toward a project for my instructor’s approval, but a client, a real bride.
“And this machine will work?” Aubrey asks as I finalize the purchase of a sewing machine.
“It will work for now,” I reply, but I don’t mention to them that it means I’ll be doing a lot of hand embroidery myself. “It’ll have to do for now until I can figure out something better.”
I set aside the fabric samples the shop owner offered to me. Lauren has been flipping through it, but nothing is catching her eye. “This looks nice, but I feel like I’m just saying that because it’s convenient. Because it’s here, and I haven’t seen everything you have in mind.”
I nod, shoving aside another thought of Sawyer because of that one word. He’s too hot to be convenient. Too tall and broad, oozing masculinity and power when he’s busy working. The way he said it that day, it sounded like he’d been called convenient in a negative way, and I can’t shake that nagging thought from my mind.
Who would ever reduce him to a convenience? He makes me so curious and irritated, that he seems the opposite of anything convenient or trivial. But I’ve got to stop thinking about him. If I’m not careful, I’m bound to mention him out of the blue.
I can tell that Lauren and Aubrey are including me as another friend, but I’m nowhere near the stage of talking about men with them. Flustered with this inability to stop thinking about Sawyer, I latch on to the first thing that comes to mind.
“Where is the wedding taking place?” I ask Lauren. “I know you said it would be indoors, but I’m curious where.” Because designing winter-appropriate outerwear to go with your dress sounds like a fun challenge, too!
“Oh, let’s show her!” Aubrey says.
They drive to the gorgeous venue. It’s an older structure near Vale, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve been transported to a mountainside castle.
Lauren walks me through her plans. From the outdoors, to where she’ll get dressed and ready, all the way through the ceremony and the reception on site.
I love weddings. I always have and always will. Since I was a child, I’ve enjoyed the magic of the events. My mother has tarnished my personal dreams of marrying someone out of love. The simple fact that I suggested to Owen that we should elope was proof of my hopes being lost. I was really reaching, stooping so low to give up and consider eloping, and with a man who didn’t have my heart. But what else could I do? So long as my mother held my trust fund over my head, I couldn’t marry out of love. I would never forgive myself for marrying someone she wanted me to just for the sake of being able to get my money and open my bridal shop. At the same time, I also would regret marrying a man out of love and never being able to pursue my dreams.
Despite my issues, I don’t begrudge the idea of weddings. As we walk through the venue, I give Lauren tips for decorations and small details that she’ll appreciate. She jots down ideas as we explore, and I try not to skimp on anything that comes to mind for what would make the venue pop. I suggest flower arrangements and where they should go. Crystal and china, and what mistakes with linens to avoid. Lights and décor that would work with the seating setup she has in mind.
By the end of the tour, my heart is full. Lauren is beaming, clearly more enthusiastic about her big day. When she gives Aubrey a teasing smirk, though, I have to smile along. “And what will you do for your big wedding?”
Aubrey rolls her eyes. She blushes as she waves her friend off. “Oh, stop. Dalton needs to quit dragging his feet and pop the question first.”
“Any hints he’s getting ready to?” I ask. I know my cousin is smitten with her, but after his last attempt to propose, I can see why he’s taking it slow and not rushing into anything.
Aubrey shrugs, but she can’t tame that blush.
Later that afternoon, after they’ve returned me to the cabin where the bathroom lights still won’t stay on reliably, I try to relax with a hot shower. I need to be careful with my posture when I’m sitting and sketching so much. My search for a massage turned out to be a dud. I don’t want to find a rental car to drive all the way out just for a massage when Dalton’s been so nice about letting me stay here. Still, I need something to get rid of this tension. I rub the back of my neck after I dry off, but as I exit the tub, I realize my calves are sore, too.
From walking over gravel in my heels. I roll my eyes at my reflection.
Outside, the sound of tires grinding up the drive alerts me to a visitor. I furrow my brow. Again? I swear Aubrey said she would be busy grading papers this afternoon. It’s a Saturday, so no one would have a reason to be around here.
Not even Sawyer. I growl as I tighten my robe around my waist, go to the door, and step out on the front porch. “Stop thinking about him,” I mutter as I reach the railing to peer down below.
