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‘I’ll leave you to get on with your day then.’ He turned to leave.
‘Unless… you know, you wanted to see it?’
He turned back. ‘You want me to see your dress?’
‘A second opinion would be useful. I would’ve asked my mum, but she hasn’t been in the right headspace of late. Plus, she’d only criticise my choice and pick out a dress that would suit Megan instead.’
Matt frowned. ‘She’d do that?’
Beth waved away his concern. ‘It’s fine, really. It’s not a problem. It’s just… well, my mum and Megan are very alike. You know, confident, happy to be the centre of attention.’
‘That’s not you?’
She gave a small shrug. ‘Are you surprised?’
‘That you lack confidence? Yes, you’re one of the most assertive people I’ve ever met.’
She rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating manner. ‘Annoyingly so, right?’
‘It’s certainly confronting.’ He smiled so she’d know he was teasing.
She sighed. ‘You’re right. When it comes to work, I’m fine. Ask me to make a legal decision or fight for my client’s rights and I have no problem. It’s just away from work that I struggle.’
‘In what way?’
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to change her mind. ‘It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.’ She crossed the road towards the bridal shop.
Intrigued, he followed her. It seemed incredible that someone as ballsy as Beth might lack confidence. But then, it wasn’t like he really knew her, was it? They weren’t spending time together through choice, they’d been thrown together through coercion.
They entered the bridal shop, and once again Matt felt out of his comfort zone. The space was filled with racks of white frilly dresses exploding into the space, like the time he’d mistakenly added bubble bath to a hotel jacuzzi.
The shop was painted midnight blue, with fancy gold accents, making it seem more like a nightclub than a bridal boutique.
A stern-looking woman wearing huge glasses appeared from nowhere and smiled at Beth. ‘Ah, Miss Lawrence, perfect timing. Your dress is hanging in the booth waiting for you.’ She gestured for Beth to follow her. ‘Do take a seat in our waiting area,’ she said, glancing back at Matt. ‘We won’t be long.’
Matt sat down on the comfy gold sofa and looked around. Apart from the array of white chiffon frothing at him from every corner of the room, there was a section dedicated to bridesmaids. Hanging on the end was a dark bronze-coloured dress that caught his eye. He could imagine Beth wearing something like that – it would suit her tall frame and autumn colouring. He averted his gaze elsewhere. What the hell did he know about women’s clothing? He struggled to shop for himself.
In front of the changing booths was a small platform surrounded by floor-length mirrors and overhead spotlights, casting the space in a warm glow. He guessed it was intended to show off the bridal dresses in their best light.
A few moments later, Beth appeared from the booth and stepped onto the platform, looking uncertain and self-conscious… and he could see why. The dress she had on was bloody awful. Oh, hell. This wasn’t going to go well.
‘What do you think?’ she said turning, revealing the full horror of the garment.
It was a murky grey colour, floor-length, with a shapeless bodice and horrible drapey sleeves. The cut did absolutely nothing for her and the shade drained her face of any colour.
He had two choices. Be honest or lie. Voicing his true opinion wouldn’t be conducive to improving their fragile relationship moving forwards. They were finally getting along and he wanted to keep it that way. One misjudged comment could be catastrophic – just ask his mother.
Then again, he’d been accused of being too compliant when it came to women. His sister said he was guilty of agreeing with everything they said, just to keep the peace. Leah had encouraged him to be more assertive and honest. Maybe it was time to test out her theory – although if this blew up in his face, he’d be having serious words with his sister.
He cleared his throat. ‘What colour would you call that?’ he said, trying for a neutral tone and not giving anything away too soon.
‘Caviar,’ the assistant replied. She was standing by the side of the platform like a security guard, arms folded, a serious expression on her face.
Beth looked over at him. ‘Not a fan?’
He tried to look thoughtful. ‘I’m just wondering if it’s right for a wedding?’ he said, praying she wouldn’t take offence. ‘It’s quite… sombre.’
Beth looked down at the dress. ‘I didn’t want anything too bright or garish, in case it detracted from Megan’s dress.’
