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“Oh, my God, babe,” Willow says with her hands on my shoulders. “Wow! I mean holy shit. I knew you were hiding a rocking bod under all those frumpy sweater dresses, but damn, girl, you look hot. A Greek goddess reincarnated.”
Blush rushes to my cheeks. “You’re nuts.” I laugh at her silliness and shake my head. “And thank you.”
Willow tucks a loose curl behind my ear and smiles. “You know I got your back.”
“I missed you,” I whisper, and she hugs me.
“The apartment isn’t the same without you.” She releases me from her grip, holding me at arm’s length. “I wish you were coming back to me, but I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy with Nate.”
She steers me in front of the floor-length mirror, looking at me in disbelief. I don’t recognize the person I see. Between the makeup Willow applied to my eyes, the custom Dante Drake gown, and the curls spilling down my cheeks, I not only look but feel like another person. Willow studied fashion at FIDM, the top school in Los Angeles. She even has a cosmetology license she hasn’t used… until now.
My blonde hair falls over my shoulders in thick barrel curls. Tiny diamond pins are placed throughout my hair that’s styled and sprayed to perfection. Various shades of blue and sea green round out my eyes, making them pop. I’m wearing the pearl necklace, drop earrings, and bracelet Nate bought for me. He even surprised me with a pearl and diamond crown fit for a queen. His Queen.
“I wind-proofed your hair,” Willow says as she tugs on one of my curls. “You could stand on the beach during a hurricane, and you’d still look like a million bucks.”
“You did… wow, Willow, thank you. You did an amazing job. I don’t even look like me.” I turn around to face her and pull her into my arms for a quick hug. “Thank you for being here… and for all of this…”
“Even if Chris Hemsworth showed up on my doorstep, begging me to run away with him, I still wouldn’t have missed your special day.”
I laugh, and then my eyes fall to the floor as I think about her words. This is supposed to be a special day, not a business arrangement. But at least I’m doing this with Nate. That should count for something, right? I had imagined our wedding when we were kids—the dress, the ceremony, the dance under the stars on the beach. It’s still everything I’d envisioned, and maybe, this can be real. We can make this work.
Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.
Callie strolls over to us wearing a turquoise bridesmaid dress that stops above her knees. Her brown hair is pinned up with a few elegant curls framing her face. “Girrrlll…” She presses her lips together, smearing the pink gloss as she appraises me. “Seriously, woman, you look legit. Like a real bride.”
I laugh. “Because I am a real bride.”
She waves her hand at me. “Blah! You know what I mean. You look like a happy bride, like you actually want to marry this clown.” She covers her mouth and chuckles. “I’m popping serious lady wood with you in this gown. Wait until Nate sees you. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you tonight. You’re so losing the bet.”
“Speaking of Nate’s hands,” I say with laughter in my tone. “Can you grab his wedding gift for me?” I dip my head toward the dresser.
Lola bursts into a fit of laughter. “You’re really giving him a bottle of lube as his wedding present.”
I nod, a smirk turning up the corner of my mouth.
She shakes her head with a goofy look on her face. “You’re officially my hero.”
Callie reaches into the drawer and removes a small white gift bag with blue paper stuffed inside. She holds it up, dangling it from the edge of her fingers. “I’d love to see Nate’s face when he opens this.”
“He already knows what I got him.”
“Yeah,” she challenges. “But he probably thought you were joking.”
“Hey, we made a deal. Sex was never part of it.”
I haven’t told them about our almost sex in the treehouse. That was so hot I want to save that bit of information for myself.
“Nate loves a challenge,” Callie says, dropping the bag onto the bed in front of me. “And I like money.”
“You won’t win the bet,” I say with zero confidence.
Callie cocks an eyebrow at me. “I have a gut feeling and that hunch is usually right.”
“I’m still rooting for you,” Amelia says, playing with the strap of her dress.
“Me too.” Willow hooks her arm around me, tapping her long nails on my shoulder. “But I’m good no matter what you decide. As long as you’re happy.”
“I am,” I admit, which sounds weird to say aloud.
