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This dress has more fabric than the others. It’s a mermaid style, fitted on my hips, and the straps are made to sit across my upper arms, leaving my shoulders bare. I work on the back buttons, but I can’t get them fastened much higher than my ass as I shift on the high heels Shania gave me.
Catcalls go up outside.
“Holy, Beck! Rae, make the guys wear tuxes to this wedding,” Elle decides.
“Get out here. I’m stealing your fifteen minutes of fame,” Beck warns.
“You’d never survive on fifteen.” I give up on the top buttons and pull open the door.
My gaze lands on Beck.
The tux and bow tie with starched white shirt and shiny dress shoes make him look like an Old Hollywood movie star, cocky and handsome but with a core of strength and resoluteness.
“Dude,” I declare.
“No. You, dude. Get up here.” He crooks a finger and helps me onto the dais.
“You look amazing, Rae,” Elle insists.
I turn, taking in my reflection and ignoring the lack of oxygen.
“It’s beautiful,” Annie says. “Is it the dress? Does your heart race and do your knees get weak?”
“If my knees get any weaker, I’m falling off this pedestal.” Hopefully the dress gets easier to breathe in the longer I wear it.
But maybe there is a little flutter. The corseted shape flatters my figure, and with a few minor tweaks, it would fit like a glove.
“The Brit will go crazy. Even if you leave it halfway buttoned like that. Hell, especially if you do.”
Elle’s enthusiasm affects me. I want Harrison to lose his mind. Plenty of wedding traditions are flimsy and trivial, but the man I love taking one look at me in my dress and losing his soul…
That’s one I want to keep.
I turn to Shania. “It’s a little tight. Can we adjust it in time? I need half an inch at least.”
She gulps. “I…”
“You need a refill on that champagne, Shania?” Beck flashes her a million-watt grin.
Her slow blink is deer-in-the-headlights stunned.
I don’t blame her. Cities have crumbled under attacks less devastating.
“We can have it ready,” she whispers, and cheers go up.
We toast with champagne, and the bubbles tickle my throat.
“Wait! What about the bridesmaids and groomsmen?” Annie asks.
I blink. “You guys don’t need to do that. The fact that you’re staying is enough.”
I know how weddings work, and I’ve been to my share. Still, I never imagined me standing up at the front with friends at my side, lending their support, showing their love.
“We’re your friends, Queen,” Beck reminds me. “We’re going to be up out of our seats anyway. Might as well tell us where to stand.”
Annie clasps her hands together, and Elle nods emphatically.
“You could call Callie after we’re done,” Annie rushes on. “And if Harrison asked Tyler and Ash to stand up for him, the numbers would be even.”
The backs of my eyes burn.
Maybe Harrison was right. This is doable.
“I’d love that. We both would.”
