“Yes, you left with Vann last night,” Vera assured me. “We were positive you were also going to wake up with Vann,to be honest.”
Evading the upfront fishing from her comment, I shrugged and gave her a blank look. “Nope. I woke up in my bed this morning.” That wasn’t even a lie.
I’d woken up in my empty bed, in my big, empty apartment. There had been no awkward good mornings or shared breakfasts. There hadn’t even been a confused text.
It was almost like last night hadn’t happened and I’d only dreamed waking up next to Vann and sneaking out of his apartment.
My friends tried to hide their disappointed looks, unsuccessfully. Thankfully, five minutes later an army of hair and makeup professionals showed up and did their best work to make us glow, shine, and look anything but hungover.
It was impressive work. By the time I was dressed in my floor length blush gown with draped, off-the shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, I was legitimately impressed with the way I looked. My hair was pulled over my shoulder, somehow rocking a braid and loose curls and a crown of flowers at the same time. I looked like a hipster supermodel.
“Now this is magic,” I told Kaya and Molly, who had similarly stunned looks on their gorgeous faces.
“I’ve never looked this pretty,” Kaya declared. “Never.” When her makeup artist started to disagree with her, Kaya shook her head and insisted, “Seriously, never. I’m usually rocking a bandana, no makeup and three pounds of duck fat. Wyatt isn’t even going to recognize me.”
I couldn’t help but smile. She might be right. Not that she couldn’t totally rock a bandana, no makeup, and three pounds of duck fat. Because she could. And she did every single night. But she was stunning in full makeup and with her purple hair in loose waves.
Vera finally turned around and stood up, stealing our actual breath. She was a goddess in her wedding dress. It had all the romantic vintage feels with a sheer lace overlay covered in floral appliques and layers of white beneath. The back was a wide, deep V, coming together in a long train of buttons that started at her lower back. The intricately detailed lace sleeves were held onto the very curve of her shoulders with clear tape. They were short sleeve and nearly bell-like, but so ridiculously flattering, I couldn’t help but be jealous of her. The front was a low-cut V too, ending at her sternum and remaining tasteful but eye-catching. Her dark hair was styled similarly to mine only with flowers interwoven instead of the wreath I wore. And her makeup was all soft pinks and expertly placed highlights and she looked like a magazine ad—even with the smallest swell of her belly.
She was everything a bride was supposed to be. The perfect picture of hope and anticipation and eternal bliss. My heart ached with the desire to live this out one day. To have what she had. To love like she loved. To hope for what she hoped for.
My mind flashed with drunken half-images of sleeping with Vann. God, what a mistake. I wanted everything, and yet my nights were spent alone. Except for last night. And I can’t even remember what happened.
At least not accurately.
Not that Vann was the usual brand of loser I managed to attract in the past. But he wasn’t exactly my perfect eHarmony match either. Nor was he broadcasting interested vibes my way.
At least not in the wedding bells and prenup kind of way.
I chewed my lip, wondering if I would be the kind of girl to demand a prenup when it came down to it. I had a vast enough fortune that it would be smart to include one. And I wanted to be smart.
And wise.
And mature.
And a prenup definitely seemed like something a smart, wise, mature woman would get.
But I knew Ezra wasn’t planning to get one with Molly. When I’d asked him about it, he’d told me that if he needed to worry about a prenup with his fiancée, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her to begin with.
I believed my brother. There were plenty of women in his life before Molly. He’d learned a lot from his first marriage. And he’d finally found a woman up to the challenge of him.
“Dillon, are you okay?” Vera asked, breaking me out of deep thought. She fidgeted nervously and I realized I’d basically been glaring at her as my mind spun in a hundred different directions.
Thank you resting bitch face for making my friends feel so loved.
Also, thank you Vera for getting married and making me question everything in my entire life.
I smiled and brushed at strange, stray tears. “You’re gorgeous,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, you’re like this total vision of perfection and it just… got me thinking.” I waved a hand in the air. “Sorry, my thoughts are scattered today. I have got to stop letting Wyatt talk me into shots every time we go out.”
“Maybe we should start a petition,” Kaya grumbled.
“You’re stunning, Vera, seriously. Killian is going to die when he sees you,” I assured her.
“I’d settle for shocked silence,” she said, holding back tears. “Maybe a tear or two.”
The room filled up after that, the flower girls and ring bearer arrived and all the other attendants. Chefs and waiters were everywhere in the kitchen, preparing for the elegant reception. Champagne glasses were passed around and we toasted our friend and the nuptials about to take place. And then we toasted our friendship and love for Vera. And as the toasts went on, I let the liquid courage kill some of the strange butterflies flapping around inside me.
Not that it could kill everything. I realized I would have to go through Molly and Ezra’s wedding too. And probably Kaya and Wyatt’s before I even found a consistent date for the receptions.
