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“Oh, yeah.” Ash nods slowly as though she’s thinking about her own future. I know she lost her dad. “When it’s my turn, I’ll want my brother Scotty to give me away, for sure. But I’m not sure about the dancing stuff. If I were in your place, I would definitely skip the father-daughter dance. Why put a spotlight on your dad and act like you’re close when he took off for years? To hell with that. Let him stand and watch you dance with Liam like the rest of the guests. He’s lucky he’s coming at all.”
My brows rise. Ash is usually so inclusive and nonjudgemental. I’d expected her to say that he’s my dad and I should forgive and forget on my wedding day.
“Well, I don’t think I need to remind my dad that he’s lucky to be back in my life. Liam is really—gruff with him.”
Ash smirks. “I don’t doubt it. Liam does not play.”
“He’s good with Brady.”
“Oh, yeah, but that’s different. And the way he is with you is surprising and really sweet. Does the guy ever say no to anything you ask?”
I shake my head. “Not so far.”
“See that’s the nice thing about getting together with a guy who’s older and established in life, right? I don’t think he was this way when he dated women his own age. There was one party we were all at where I don’t think he cracked a smile once all night. He seemed so jaded and somber.”
“Hmm.” I lick my lips. “Well, he’s not exactly light-hearted now either. But he does smile.”
“He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”
“That’s funny because it’s what my friend Natalie said about me.”
Ash smiles as she pulls into a parking spot. “It’s just how it should be then, huh?”
“Yes.”
I glance at the Pruenza showroom window where there’s a mannequin wearing a stunning gown with a color transition from white to blush pink. There must be five pounds of beads on the dress.
“Wow. That’s incredible,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Ash says, turning off the engine. “I had a dream last night that I was getting married and bought a black and blush wedding gown. And Scotty cut off all the black fabric while we were standing at the back of the church. Which meant my belly button was showing. And I was like, ‘How is this better?’ And he said, ‘Yeah, it’s better. Your skin blends in with the dress. No one will notice.’” She laughs. “And my sister Kat was sitting on a bench drinking whisky and taking notes so she could write an article about the wedding for some newspaper. Dreams are so crazy.”
“Who were you marrying in the dream?”
“I don’t know. I never saw the guy.”
“Huh.”
When we enter, there’s a young raven-haired woman who meets us at the door to offer us coffee or Prosecco.
“Not for me, thank you,” I say.
Ash shakes her head.
The black-haired woman leads us to the wide staircase, which has stunning silver-and-gray hand-carved bannisters.
“Wow,” Ash says, “The photographer should use these stairs for some of the wedding pictures.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to tell her.”
We reach the top landing, and a middle-aged woman in a tailored black-and-white suit strides over to us.
“Welcome to Pruenza. Miss Nichols?”
I raise my hand. “And this is my friend, Ash. She’s going to be in the wedding, too.”
“Perfect. I’m Magda. When you called on Tuesday, we were afraid you might need to change your appointment.”
My head tilts. “I didn’t call on Tuesday.”
