Page 80 of Sundown Somewhere

Margeaux says something that I don’t hear, my mind zeroing in on ideas of ways to help. Other than lighting it on fire though, I’ve got nothing. Because I don’t have an idea what women do with their wedding dresses even after a successful wedding. It’s not like they wear them again. Do they?

My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it, trying to turn my focus back to Dolly. The one who actually needs my attention. That is, until a French fry hits me in the face.

Willa.

I don’t have time to ask her what the fuck she did that for before she’s squinting at me, nodding toward my lap. I arch an eyebrow, trying to figure out what she’s doing, or if she’s having a stroke, as her movements become angrier. Finally, she picks up her phone and gives me another angry nod.

Ohhhhhhh…

Willa

Trash the dress

Ummm, is that supposed to make sense? I stare at her text, reading and rereading, understanding each individual word but not catching her meaning. In the background, I hear Willa huff and another text appears.

Willa

A trash the dress session

A what?

Trash the dress! It’s this trend where women wear their wedding dress when they are done with it for a photo shoot in situations where it will get dirty or ruined. Since they aren’t worried about keeping it nice anymore

That’s a thing?

Sure is

Is she going to want to put the dress on again though? Even to ruin it?

If you offer to take it off her, I bet she will

I look up and the shit-eating smirk on Willa’s face says it all. She knows. Whether one of us told her or not, little sister is not in the dark here.

“Hey…” I take Dolly’s hand again, squeezing it, making sure her attention is all on me. “Do you trust me?”

“We’re in a little deep at this point if I didn’t…”

“Doll, do you trust me?” I repeat, leaning in, trying to make my point.

“With my life.”

“Good. Then don’t make plans for Saturday afternoon.”

I just need to find a photographer…

21

DOLLY

“No more steak and eggs?” Judge Robinson asks, looking up at me quizzically from the hastily printed out new menu that I shoved in page protectors at o’dark-thirty this morning.

Despite knowing this man all my life and serving him breakfast multiple times a week—and countless other meals—I can’t tell if there’s judgment to his voice or if he’s truly confused. There’s been a bit of both this morning from the ROMEOs, so it could go either way.

“You’ve never ordered steak and eggs, Judge,” I comment, trying to keep my sass to a cute and fun level rather than a you have to be fucking kidding me level.

No one has ever ordered the steak and eggs…

And I mean, no one. To the point where I stopped ordering the steak required to have on hand to fulfill such an order more than a year ago. Much to Hux’s disappointment, since it meant he didn’t get a steak once a week so that I didn’t have to toss it.