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“Tate…” His name falls from my lips without permission.
“Take your bath. I’ll get you ice for that shoulder.”
Then he’s gone, and I allow the first tear to fall.
Chapter eleven
Mindy
I don’t know how long I stood in the same spot, giving in to my tears. Sexual frustration ate at me. Confusion suffocated me. Annoyance was the end of me. I stopped acting like a baby and attempted to enjoy the nice hot bath but couldn’t get in without getting my stitches wet. After twenty minutes of maneuvering and failing, I attempted the shower, to no avail, and gave myself a sink bath, then stayed holed up in my part of the suite, keeping my distance. It was for the best. Our only interaction was Tate bringing me ice for my shoulder and dinner, which I ate—tacos aren’t to blame here—before I took my pain meds and passed out.
Now, I’m standing in my en suite, running late to meet Fay at the bridal salon and back at square one. A knock on the door grabs my attention. “What?” I snap.
“Let me in. I’ll help you.”
“What makes you think I need your help?” I ask like I haven’t been trying to wrestle on a shirt for the last twenty minutes.
“Open the door, Mindy.”
I want to refuse, but unless I’m wearing the hotel robe—the only thing I’m capable of putting on and taking off—I don’t have another choice.
“Just be quick.”As in, don’t linger and turn me on.I huff and open the door. He is, thank god. Before I know it, I’m dressed and ready. His SUV is parked out front, and he opens the door but doesn’t buckle me in. My chest twinges. When he climbs in, I turn on the music to distract me from the disappointment, and for once, he doesn’t immediately turn it off.
We arrive at the bridal shop, and I jump out and rush inside, ignoring him when he tells me to wait. Fay is already here. Her smile quickly morphs into concern. “Oh, honey, you’re limping.”
“No!” I wave at her. “I have a pebble in my shoe. Oh my god, today is dress shopping day!” I sing, changing the subject.
“Right! I’m going to find you the prettiest dress imaginable.”
Unlike me, who would invite the world, Fay and Theo decided on a small, intimate wedding. The day is about them, and they want to be able to enjoy their guests, not feel like they’re running around hosting. I totally get it.
“As long as I get to wear a corset and those skirts that make my dress poof out like five feet. I want to look regal—like they did in the eighteen hundreds.”
Fay laughs, and a woman approaches us with two glasses of champagne. “Welcome, ladies. Today is going to be lovely. We have an array of dresses to choose from. Let me know your vision, and I’ll start pulling some for you to try on.” The bell to the salon rings, and she looks over our shoulders. “I’ll be right with you.”
I glance back, finding a scowling Tate. “Oh, he’s with me. Don’t mind him. He’s going to make himself invisible.” I clink my glass to Fay’s. “I’m so excited for you. I can’t believe you and lover boy are making it official in just a couple months.”
“I know. If it weren’t for my mom reminding me every two seconds, I probably wouldn’t believe it myself.”
Fay’s parents are super old school. She was raised in Ohio, and their way of life is a bit different from the fast pace of New York or Jersey, where they now live. “Well, get used to it. Once you’re married, wedding talk transitions to baby talk.”
Fay groans. “I can’t even think about having a baby. Can you imagine? Running a new restaurant and being a mom?”
“If I’m being honest, no. Sounds terrible. I’d rather swallow glass.”
“Right?”
“Okay, ladies. Let’s get started.” Since the appointment is all about me, Fay relaxes and sips her champagne while the stylist helps me in and out of dress after dress. They run the gamut of being godawful and painful because my shoulder and leg kill to making Fay tear up. We go through a lot of maybes, nos, passes, hard passes, andoh, hell no.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tate watching, chuckling at the gaudy ones, smiling at the elegant ones, and adjusting himself at the sexy ones. “Okay, this is the last one. And I think it’s the one.” I step out in a sheer, pale, mint dress. The material hugs my body like a glove and cascades to the floor, hiding my legs except for the slit that stops at my upper thigh. The straps wrap around my neck, leaving my back bare and accentuating my boobs.
“Wow,” Fay says. “I…” She wipes at her eyes. “Mindy, this is the one.” I face the long mirror, taking myself in. Not to sound conceited, but damn, I look good. I lift the price tag and almost choke. Turning to the lady, I ask, “Do you guys offer payment plans?”
“Oh, shut up. I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not. I can get the dress.”
“Too bad. Do you like it?”
