Page 20 of Bloom (Black Rose)


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“Absolutely not,” Mom says. “That dress is lovely.”

“Now we have to find something for you, Frank,” Mandy says. “The perfect dress for my maid of honor.”

“What color are you thinking?” I ask.

“Well, I was going to ask you. As I told you, it’s going to be a smaller wedding. I haven’t decided on a color scheme yet, so I figured why not let you pick the color of your dress? Then we can work around that.”

“Mandy, this is your decision.”

“Actually, Frankie,” Mom says, “I think that’s a marvelous idea. And Mandy, that’s very nice of you.”

I sigh. “Well, all right. If you’d like for me to choose, I think I’d like something silvery blue. Kind of like our eyes.”

Mandy’s eyes are a little grayer than mine. Mine are lighter silvery blue. I always thought mine were prettier, but now, as I look at my sister glowing in the essence of her love, I’m not sure how I ever thought I outshone her. She’s beautiful.

I’m going to make sure she has the most perfect day.

“Silvery blue sounds great,” Mandy says. “We can probably get any of these dresses in that color.”

“Let me have a look around,” I say.

It seems strange shopping for wedding garments at Macy’s when I went to a bridal shop for mine, but I was planning a more elaborate celebration. Mandy is no doubt trying to keep expenses down for Mom and Dad. They’re doing fine, even though they live in the same house on Long Island that we grew up in. I know they have a wedding fund, because we talked about it when Penn and I were engaged.

Still, Mandy doesn’t want to overdo it.

Which is classic Mandy.

She always thinks about others before she thinks of herself.

I need to be more like her.

I zero in on a cocktail-length dress in a gorgeous color called livid. I let out a chuckle.

“What’s funny?” Mom asks.

“The color of this dress. It’s perfect, but look at the name of it.”

Mandy fingers the tag. “Livid? Frank, you’re not—”

“No, Mandy. I’m not still angry about the other night. How many times do I have to say it? It’s just pretty funny, the name of the color. Livid.”

“Livid can mean a grayish blue,” Mom says.

“Really?” Mandy raises her eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of it as a color.”

“Neither have I,” I say. “But I love the style of this dress. The halter style on top and the draping at the waistline will work perfectly on my figure.”

“It is gorgeous,” Mandy says. “You should definitely try it on.”

I check the size. “This one’s a six. I’m an eight.”

“Are you sure?” Mom asks. “You’ve lost weight, Frankie.”

“Well… I suppose I could try the six. We can always have them order an eight.”

I already know it will flatter me. I’m taller than Mandy, with narrower hips and a slightly wider waist. Not everything looks great on me, but this dress will—in an eight. But to appease them, I go back to the dressing rooms. I want to see how the color looks against my whole body anyway.

As I suspected, the six is a tad small. I return to Mom and Mandy.

“I’m going to need an eight.”

“That’s no problem,” says a salesperson who seems to have appeared from nowhere. “I’ll get that ordered for you. In the meantime we can ring up your dress, ma’am.”

“Thank you so much.” Mandy hands her the bridal dress.

I take my chance to duck out. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I have some research I need to do for work.”

“Are you working on a new story?” Mandy asks.

“The same one.” I clear my throat. “About alternative sexual lifestyles in Manhattan.”

Mandy stares at me a moment, going slightly rigid. Same as she did at dinner. Strange.

“Goodness.” Mom shakes her head. “Well, as long as your readers are interested.”

“Lisa seems to think they will be,” I say. “I’ve already started doing some research. It’s actually very interesting.”

Again, nothing from Mandy.

Maybe I’ll ask her later. Certainly not in front of our mother.

“Anyway,” I say, “I have to be going. Mandy, your dress is beautiful.”

And again…Mandy says nothing.

Chapter Thirteen

Frankie

I fidget as I sit at the bar.

Alfred brings me a glass of water.

I’m tempted to order one of Phantom’s special martinis, but I need to stay focused.

I have no idea what awaits me.

Until—

“Hello, my angel.” Hot breath fans the back of my neck. “You look lovely.”

I turn as he takes the stool next to me.

He’s wearing his black cape, of course, and the white mask that covers nearly all of the right side of his face and the eye on the left. His stubble is thicker and darker today, and God, it’s sexy. His full pink lips are curved into a smile, and he’s wearing all black. Black leather shoes, black pants, and a black button-down shirt.

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