“I’m waiting for a call from the boutique. Most likely next month.”
“That’s just weeks before the wedding,” I said.
“I’m not too worried about it,” Lana said. “I think it’ll be fine. Mine won’t need as many alterations. Did you go back for another fitting?”
“I did. It’s hanging in my storage unit. Along with the other one—“
“What other one?”
I jumped, almost spilling my drink all over my computer at the sound of Tyler’s voice. “Fucking hell, Tyler,” I said, clenching my chest. “I hate it when you do that.”
He smiled, wrapped an arm around my waist, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Morning,” he said softly. “Morning, Lana,” he said to her.
“Good morning, Tyler,” she replied, and I noted the drip of sarcasm in her voice. I gave her a look, and she just smiled in return.
“What other dress are we talking about?” Tyler asked, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.
“Just a reception dress,” I said.
“The most gorgeous dress there ever was,” Lana interjected.
“Sounds like Lana likes it better than the one you already have,” Tyler said to me.
“That’s because I picked it out,” Lana said. “Herbest friend. Someone who actually knows her.”
“I’m sensing some hostility this morning,” Tyler said, and I knew his tone would send Lana over the edge.
“Oh, look at the time,” I said, wide-eyeing Lana. “I have to get ready and go into work.”
Lana grinned behind her mug. “You do that, babe. Have fun,” she said with a wink.
I exited the chat and closed the computer before she could say anything else that might incriminate me.
“What was that about?” Tyler asked, leaning his hips against the counter.
“Nothing,” I said, grabbing my phone. “She’s just getting anxious, I think.”
There were five text message notifications, all from the same person, all back-to-back within a span of ten minutes with the last one reading ‘???’.
I almost slammed the phone down.
“Can you please tell your mother to calm down about the state of the roses she’s evidently flying in from Ecuador?” I said, unable to contain myself. “Apart from going down there myself and picking them one by one, there’s nothing I can do about the shade of red. She’s already texted me multiple times this morning and acting as though I’m ignoring her.”
“Aren’t you?”
“It’s barely 7 A.M.,” I argued. “Doesn’t she know what time zones are?”
“It’s an important detail to her,” Tyler said with a shrug.
“It’s not her wedding,” I snapped.
Tyler took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you not want roses?” he finally asked.
I sighed and braced my palms on the countertop, closing my eyes as I calmed myself down. I had tossed and turned for most of the night, unable to sleep as the moment Tyler’s mother began texting me, all I could think about was the wedding. I kept imagining what that day might be like—all the guests, the black-tie affair, the extravagance that would be so foreign. Thinking about it should have made me excited, I thought. But all it did was weave a never-ending knot through my insides, pulling and tugging and binding me to the decisions that had been made for me.
“The roses are fine,” I finally said. “I just refuse to let the shade of them ruin my life.”
A soft laugh came from him. “You can tell her yourself this weekend,” he replied.
