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“No.”
“I’m paying. Try the dress on, Adora.”
“Fuck you!” I snap back at him.
“Does she have this foul mouth with you as well?” Joey asks, addressing Becca.
“No,” she answers quietly.
“You don’t have to answer him,” I tell her but keep my eyes on him.
“She can answer me. Don’t control her,” Joey says, his tone taunting.
“You are the only asshole being controlling.” I get up from my seat. “I’ll try one white dress on, then you have to leave,” I tell him, my hands landing on my hips.
“Two,” he argues back.
Turning around to the bridal lady, I smile at her. “Pick me two to try on so we can pick the real dress and he can leave.”
“Is that your fiancé?” she almost whispers.
“Yes. Isn’t he an ass?”
Her eyes go wide, and she isn’t sure how to answer that. Instead, she gets busy putting two dresses into the changing room as I follow her in. The first is a tight lacy one with a small train. It’s beautiful, classic, and quintessential.
I walk out, and both sets of eyes lock on me.
“Wow!” Becca breathes out, and Joey’s eyes take me in before he turns to her. “Is this not weird for you? You’re helping a woman you are fucking pick a wedding dress for the man she’s marrying.”
For fuck’s sake, I want to walk over to him and slap him hard.
The bridal lady excuses herself and hurries away.
Who could blame her?
“Joey,” I snarl as Becca stands to leave. “Don’t leave. He’s being an ass.” She pauses, and I glare at him. “One more dress and you will leave.”
I stalk back into the changing room and start taking off the dress as the bridal lady enters and silently helps me. When I have the next one on, I walk out to Becca facing the other way and Joey watching her with a smirk.
“Last dress, now leave.”
Joey gets up, true to his word, and walks over to me. “It’s been a pleasure,” he says and nods, then walks out the door.
Becca smiles when she turns and sees me.
“Do you plan to ever get married?” I ask her.
“No, my family would not attend.”
“Would it be weird if you came to mine?” Again, I can feel the bridal lady staring at us.
“I would love to.”
“Good! Done deal.” I go back to the changing room and smile at the bridal lady, who we are providing with at least a month’s worth of gossip.
“Now, get me something in red.”
Her eyes go wide, but she remains silent.
