Well, given that the last bride had bailed, not so good. “It’s going.”
“And the friends-with-benefits situation you’ve been working on?” Heather plucked a mint from one of the crystal bowls.
“We’re just friends.” She needed to keep repeating that.
“A guy like Brek needs a woman ready for adventure. I think you could be that woman.” Claire grinned wide. “You know it’s going to happen. Ditch the dating spreadsheets. Do like the Prince of Pop andjust go crazy.”
“I think you mean ‘Let’s Go Crazy,’” Velma corrected.
“What?” Claire turned so the sales lady could pin the side of her dress.
“That’s the title.Let’s Go Crazy.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like Dean.”
“Either way you say it, I think you shoulddoit.” Heather held up a purple chiffon dress. “Yay or nay?”
“I think we should do the one you’re wearing,” Velma replied. Claire loved it. Heather wouldn’t pick something that would make Velma look bad.
Heather beamed. “Really? You’re going to look amazing in it. Brek’s going to be all over you.”
Velma sighed. Maybe doing something crazy wasn’t such a bad idea. And doing Brek would becrazy. Also, probably fun. She could run her tongue along his abs and all those muscles over and over again. And she trusted him.
Besides, if her grandmother’s dress was getting an update, didn’t she deserve one, too?
Velma’s phone buzzed in her purse. She tossed the used paper cup into the bin and pulled out her phone.
Brek.
“Brek?” she asked into the phone.
“Dinner. You want Chinese?”
“Are you at your mom’s?” Velma’s voice cracked. She was going to do this.
“Why? Everything okay?” he asked immediately.
She gulped back the intensity of all the feelings inside her. She switched the phone to her other ear. “Where are you?”
Heather and Claire paused while she spoke. They hadn’t moved since she’d picked up the phone. They just watched her.
“She’s gonna do it,” Heather whispered. “Our baby girl is all grown up.”
“Changing my oil. V, talk to me. What’s going on?” Brek’s tone sharpened.
“I’ll meet you there.” She clicked the phone off, shoved her purse onto her shoulder. Claire had driven Heather and Velma to the shop. Velma’s car was still at the apartment, so she’d need a cab.
“Do not put this on your spreadsheet,” Claire said with a wink.
With that, Velma let out a breath she’d been holding for nearly thirty years.
Chapter Thirteen
Brek dried his fingers on the grease rag in his hand. Where the hell was Velma? She wouldn’t pick up her damn phone. He tried again. Nothing.
This time he tried Claire’s number.
“Brek?” A female—not Claire—answered.
