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I take another bite. “If Mr. King had a problem with what I eat, we wouldn’t be doing this.”
Annie and Elle collect their dress bags.
“You better save me a donut,” Annie warns before heading for one of the bathrooms to change.
Barney plants himself at my feet, whining hopefully.
“Donuts aren’t for dogs. You’ll make yourself sick.” His imploring face has me reaching for my phone. “Okay, calm down. Lemme play you something.”
Barney’s the only living creature I know that can fall asleep to EDM as if it were an ocean breeze.
I flip through the files on my phone until my finger hovers over one. I click it, and it starts to play.
“I started working on this track a month ago. Haven’t had a chance to finish it. What do you think?”
Barney tilts his head and nudges my knee with his nose.
“Yeah, I like it too.”
“Are you ready for your dress?” the designer asks.
I set the rest of my donut on a napkin on the table as they help me into my dress.
When my phone buzzes, I reach for it, thinking it might be Harrison texting, but it’s not.
“Top Women in Music,” I say over my shoulder.
“Proofs from yesterday? That’s fast,” Annie comments.
I click into the body of the email, but there are no photos—only a message. “They’ve brokered a publicity deal with a couple of networks. They want me to fly to New York next week for talk shows.”
Normally, I could accommodate that—if I didn’t have a surprise wedding.
“It's a great opportunity,” Annie says. “But aren’t you guys going on a honeymoon?”
“We haven’t talked about it,” I realize.
All the rushing around and we never got to talk about what we want to do once we are married.
A snapping sound has me looking down.
My donut is gone. Barney is licking his lips.
Crap.
“Dammit, B. Tell me you didn’t just inhale that.”
The designer murmurs something that sounds like, “Better him than you,” as she laces me into the dress from behind.
I watch the dog, guilt edging into my stomach.
“Can you suck in a little more?” the designer asks.
“I’m trying.” My eyes close. “Did you let it out?”
“It was first on our list.” But her voice betrays her doubt. “I’m sure we did. My assistants were up working around the clock on this and the tuxedos.”
“We’ll make it work,” I assure the designer. “Keep pulling.”
