I double check that the thick straps tied over my shoulders are tight enough that they won’t fall down, then run my hands down the pale blue fabric, admiring the subtle floral details on it. I’d be worried about walking in the fitted dress, but a slit up the back stopping at the backs of my knees helps me feel like I won’t trip down the stone stairs of this gorgeous winery and embarrass myself.
This dress, paired with my favorite pink stilettos, makes me feel feminine. Beautiful. And I’m excited to see the look on Reid’s face when I walk out wearing the very color he told me I looked stunning in.
OnceI’m done with this stupidly expensive cocktail dress, I’m wearing it everywhere. To work, to run errands, to exercise. It’s going to become a part of me.
The sun is starting to set on the horizon, casting a yellow glow on the water and the collection of colorful buildings on the cliff faces. Despite the drama of the last few days, I stop and take a moment to breathe and take a mental picture of the most gorgeous sunset I’ve ever seen, letting the swirling of pinks and oranges in the sky settle something in my mind. When I draw in a breath and refocus on my trek down the stairs, I notice a few eyes travel my way. But the pair of blue ones are the only ones I care to see tonight.
Reid’s head turns in my direction, the words on his lips trailing off as he sees me. His gaze travels slowly down my body. He presses a hand to his chest, and I can’t hear the words out of his mouth, but it looks like he says “damn.”
I smile as I take the rest of the stairs down and immediately beeline toward him. Jessica mumbles something about “stealing Kate’s thunder” as I pass her, as if Kate didn’t send a link and color for a specific dress curated for each bridesmaid for tonight.
“I think maybe we should get out of here,” he suggests. I stop just a few steps away from him, but don’t dare come any closer. Kate may know about us now, but I’m not going to rub it in her face with a plethora of PDA at her rehearsal dinner.
“I just got here,” I say.
“I don’t care.”
“I’m pretty sure we are required to be here.”
Reid looks away from me for a moment, scanning the crowd surrounding us. He draws in a breath and runs his fingers through his dark hair like he’s contemplating whether or not he as the best man is actually required to be here.
“Hopefully it’s a quick night, because if I have to catch one more man staring at you tonight, I think I might throw the first punch I’ve ever thrown in my entire life.”
If other men were looking at me, I didn’t even notice. I was too busy looking at the only man that matters. But either way, I wouldn’t want him punching anybody tonight. He’s already done enough to make Kate mad today. I don’t want him to take the brunt of anything else.
“And we can’t have you do that—not on Kate’s big night,” I say.
He drags his gaze back to me, a fire in his eyes as he takes me in again. “She’ll simply have to forgive me.”
I shake my head. “She will never forgive that.”
“It would be worth it.”
The whispers around me start growing louder. Then I feel the judgmental eyes on me. I peel my gaze away from Reid’s and find Jessica whispering to Lydia while staring between me and Reid. I don’t want to shrink back from it, but I feel myself getting smaller, my shoulders rounding in as if that will make me become more invisible. I take a small step back. Enough to put a little distance between us, but not so much that I lose the sense of comfort I get from being next to him.
“I think I need wine.”
“They don’t have any margaritas. I checked, and then I panicked because I didn’t know what you’d want. Offering the champagne felt wrong.”
A smile touches my lips. Before I can stop myself, I lean up on my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for trying,” I say quietly before walking toward the bar.
“Nice dress,” a voice says next to me. My body immediately tightens with tension at the sound of Jessica’s voice.
“Kate picked it out.”
“Of course she did.”
I raise a brow. “Didn’t she pick out everyone’s?”
“No, Jane. The rest of us have a sense of style.”
“You think that counts as style?” I pointedly look at her dress. It is a nice dress, but I’m done playing nice with her, especially after the way she coordinated with Kate to ambush me today.
Her eyes narrow, and a feeling of dread fills me. Before I can process what’s happening, she’s tipping her glass of wine and I watch in horror as the deep red liquid spills down the front of my dress.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says with the air of someone who is, in fact, not sorry at all. She grabs a cocktail napkin off the counter and leans in, pretending to dab the stain. “That’s for making today about you.”
“How the hell did I do that?” I grit through my teeth.
