Page 90 of Seale the Deal

Twirl, honey, Davone says.

I oblige, letting the skirt flutter around me in soft tiers of lace that are meant to float.

Oh my God, Wren, Remi breathes. You look like a woodland goddess.

I’m not sure that’s the vibe I’m going for, I say.

Does it make you want to run off into the forest with your one true love? she asks.

I look at Ruger, and his expression is the same. He’s completely disinterested as he sips his champagne.

Maybe more like back into the change room to try on something else, I say.

Remi nods. You’re right. No settling.

I want to say we won’t be settling for any dress since I’m not buying one. But this isn’t about buying. It’s about being here, wedding dress shopping with my best friend.

And Davone doesn’t need to know he’s not making a sale today.

Let’s ask the groom, Davone says brightly, fluffing the skirt. Well, hubby?

Huh? Ruger looks like Davone just woke him from a nap. He looks at me, then back at Davone, but doesn’t say anything.

Remi elbows him. Doesn’t your fiancée look beautiful?

Uh, yeah. It’s a nice dress.

Not the one! Davone declares. Next!

We repeat the process. Dress after dress, Remi lights up while Ruger grunts. I walk out, spin, pose, walk back in. By dress five, it stops being fun and starts feeling painful. Remi is treating this like an honest-to-God wedding dress shopping trip, and I’m feeling more pressure from Davone than I was prepared to deal with.

There’s a knock.

I’m not ready yet, I say.

I just want to hand you a dress, sweetie. Your friend brought it.

Oh. I wipe a stray tear.

I open the door enough to take it from him—and freeze.

It’s the dress. The one from the mannequin. It’s no surprise that Remi knew I liked it when she came up to me. But knowing this isn’t real might’ve made her think it was best not to pull it. It makes me wonder if she knows I’m starting to struggle with this wedding dress experience and wants me to try on the dress I love before we leave.

I pull the dress on, and it fits like it was made for me.

When Davone walks in, he gasps. Oh, sweetie. Why were we messing with boho when classic Hollywood is your thing?

He tweaks and smooths until everything is in place, and then I walk out.

Remi’s jaw drops. Tears fill her eyes in an instant. But it’s Ruger’s face that stops me dead in my tracks. For the first time all day, his eyes really find mine. He rubs his beard and blinks rapidly, scanning every inch of me.

Oh my God, Wrenley, Remi whispers, her voice catching. You look so beautiful.

I look in the mirror and nod slowly. It’s a perfect dress.

My eyes meet Ruger’s again. There’s undeniable heat there. His gaze traces me like he’s wondering how this dress would look on the floor. I feel it in my belly, warm and fluttering. Remi notices the way he’s looking at me. I see the double take and shift in her expression that she quickly hides behind a tight smile.

Let’s complete this look, Davone suggests.