The door bumps, shaking on its hinges, quickly followed by a noise reminiscent of a vigorously rutting walrus.
Has a wild animal broken into the studio?
I exchange a glance with Candy.
“Should I?—”
Before I can finish, the door flies open, bouncing against the wall with a loud smack. Bess strides out, her ball gown spilling across the floor as tears stream down her glowing face.
It’s obvious. She has foundthedress.
“Molly,” she says, swiping at the tears on her face. “Molly.”
Standing in the dress I picked for her, she holds her hands out like a little girl showing off her new outfit.
A small part of me—the part that’s been feeling a little morose—loosens. This is my best friend. My closest friend.
“You were right,” she says, as the crowd waits with bated breath. “It’s perfect.”
I move to wrap my arms around her, but her hand shoots out, stopping me with a solid push to my chest.
“No!” she shouts. “Now I have to changeeverythingbecause of you! You bitch!”
And then she bursts into tears.
Her mother scurries over, wrapping her in a hug and consoling her as the bridesmaids crowd around, making all the right noises.
I exchange another look with Candy. She sighs, heaving herself up off the couch.
“This doesn’t bode well for the rest of the wedding,” she mutters, awkwardly patting the distraught bride on the back.
“I. H-had. It. All p-p-planned. Out,” Bess hiccups, buried in her mother’s arms. “Now we have to s-s-start again.”
“I can help,” I promise, sending telepathic messages of threat to the bridesmaids around me. “We all will.”
The bridesmaids murmur their agreement, stroking whatever inch of Bess’s skin they can reach. It takes an extraordinarily long time to calm her down, but when she finally does, she morphs into Bridezilla.
“Josh, can you try on the dark blue? I think it will pair nicely with this,” Bess orders.
Josh sighs, pulling himself up off the sofa. He heads to the dressing room while the assistants flutter around Bess, pinning and fluffing the dress.
“How’s this?” Josh asks as he steps out of the dressing room.
I glance up and do a double take, my jaw practically hitting the floor. A little quiver runs through me—wait, is that… attraction?
No way. No freaking way! There’s no way I’m attracted to Joshua Greenfeld.
“Oh, Joshua!” Bess claps her hands together, pressing them to her heart. “It’s perfect! Turn around.”
He lets out a beleaguered sigh, spreading his arms and turning slowly.
While Bess focuses on the color and cut of the suit, I can’t help but notice the way the pants mould to his body, the sharpcut of his shoulders against the fabric, and the undeniable impressiveness of his bubble-butt ass.
When did he become a smoke show?
“I am going to ride that man like a pony,” one of the bridesmaids mutters behind me.
“Are we done?” Josh asks, looking ready to make his escape.
