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Time was quickly running out. Even if Macy told me she could alter whatever we got in plenty of time. At this rate, I’d be walking down the aisle in sweatpants.
Not that there would be an aisle. We were having something at Mom and Swiss’s. Which suited me just fine. As long as we had family, the desert, and most importantly, Elden, I didn’t much care.
Mom glanced at her phone. “Okay,” she chirped, putting the dress back.
It was odd since she’d been intense about us searching every store for something ‘perfect.’
“Thank the fucking lord,” Colby muttered.
I shot him a glare.
“We’re never going to find anything,” I whined to my mother.
She put her arm around me. “I promise, we will.”
Though I didn’t think my mother would flat out lie to me, I thought she would also omit some things so she didn’t have to face the wrath of a bride who was eight months pregnant.
“How about we get a pretzel, huh?” she suggested warmly.
I pouted. “I don’t want a pretzel. I just want to go home.”
And I kept pouting and sulking the entire drive home, munching on a pretzel. Not exactly mature of me, but I was at the mercy of hormonal mood swings. And despite my reluctance to get married, I actuallywantedto be Elden’s wife, very much. I may not have ever been the girl who fantasized about her wedding, but I did want it to besomething special. And I wanted to look like a goddess.
Heaven knew my groom was going to look handsome as all hell no matter what.
The bastard.
Men should be the ones who got pregnant.
Then again, if they were, the species would be extinct within a generation.
I was much too deep in my thoughts to take notice of where we were going until we pulled up at Mom and Swiss’s instead of our place.
“What are we doing here?” I asked as Sariah skipped out of the front door.
Skipped. As if the bitch hadn’t just stood me up on our ill-fated shopping trip.
She opened the door to the car. “What is going on?” I demanded.
She only grinned wider at the irritation in my face. “Be revealed, soon, it will,” she said in her best Yoda impression.
I rolled my eyes but let her pull me out of the car, knowing fighting Sariah was futile.
There was soft music playing in the house, and all of the Old Ladies were in the kitchen.
“What is going on?” I repeated.
All of the women smiled. Each of them was dressed to the nines, their hair and makeup done.
I recognized Marilyn, Freya’s best friend, situated at the dining table, a plethora of beauty products laid out in front of her.
“Sit,” Sariah demanded.
I frowned at her. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Her eyes danced with happiness. That was now I noticed that my friend was all dolled up too. Her clothes were casual … as casual as Sariah got, that is. But her chocolate locks were wound in braids, flowers scattered through them. Her makeup was subtle, light pink blush glowing on her cheeks and long eyelashes that had to be fake but looked natural.
“You’re getting married today, duh!”
