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“Jesus, Heather. You’re just as clueless as he is. Get dressed. I’ll take you to get your dress and find someone to do your hair.” I can handle this crisis. I’m good in a crisis, especially if it has nothing to do with me.
“Thank you, Hunter. This means a lot to me.”
“It means a lot to him too. Trust me on that.”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”
I spend most of the day helping Heather. Because of prom, most hair salons were jam packed, but I managed to find one twenty minutes outside of Savannah to do something called an updo. Because I was focused on Heather, I didn't have any time to worry about weather Gwen will show or not. We get back home and I grab a quick shower. I put my tux on, making sure I have the ring in my pocket. I can’t wait until it’s safely on her finger.
“Hey bro,” Ryder says, walking in the front door.
“Hey. She’s not ready yet.”
“That’s okay. I’m a little early.”
“Do I need to give you the hurt her and die speech?” I ask, knowing that he’d rather die than hurt her, but a brother should say what needs to be said.
“What? No. I would never.”
“I know. I just thought I’d check. You want a drink?”
“No. I’m taking Heather out to dinner.”
“Nice. Where did you make reservations?”
“Chez Ennui.”
“Very cool. She’ll love it.”
“She’ll love what?” Heather asks as she walks down the stairs. Ryder doesn’t say anything, he just stares at her.
“Where you are going to dinner.”
“Ah…”
“You look beautiful, Heather,” Ryder chokes out.
“Thank you. You look great.”
“We, uh, should go,” Ryder says.
“Will you take our picture?” Heather asks. “I promised Mom.”
“Sure. Stand together.”
Once they do, I take several pictures of them. Once they leave, the limo arrives, and I go to pick up Gwen. I have it all worked out in my mind. This is going to work. I won’t accept anything less.
chapter fifteen
Gwendolyn
Oh my gosh. I had no idea how much I needed this until right now. This is the one thing I am not going to complain about. I have been at the spa for two hours, preparing for tonight. The first thing I did was get a pregnancy massage, and I had to pay the masseuse double to keep it a secret. Then, I had to pay the host another fifty dollars to let me get dressed before going for my facial because I knew my mom was going to be in the lobby. Apparently, this entire day is for us.
Now, I am sitting in the chair getting my nails and feet done, and I want to cry. This is like heaven. “So what does your dress look like?” the girl in the chair asks. She is trying to figure out what to do with my nails.
“Black with floral undertones.” She hums and then looks at me, eyes big and excited.
“How about I do your nails black and then paint some pink flowers on them?” That might actually be perfect.
