‘Hmm,’ she replies, making eye contact with me in the mirror. ‘Were you ever… more than that?’
‘No,’ I say quickly. Too quickly again. ‘Just friends.’
Cordelia’s eyes flick to my face, then away.
‘Not even a drunk kiss here, a wild night there…?’
I laugh awkwardly.
‘God, no. Andy’s like family to me.’
She smiles, but her eyes don’t get the memo, and so it just looks menacing. She can tell something is up, that I’m not being totally honest with her. I guess, technically, Andy asked me out before we were friends, and I’m feeling whatever I’m feeling now, but telling her either of those facts isn’t going to make her happy, is it?
‘Funny. Because sometimes I catch him looking at you like…’
She stops herself.
‘Like what?’ I ask, my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.
She shrugs.
‘Like he’s… remembering something.’
Anya clears her throat.
‘Perhaps we should try on some dresses?’ she suggests.
Cordelia turns sharply.
‘Yes. Let’s.’
She gestures towards a dress I hadn’t really looked at properly.
‘That one. For Whit,’ she tells Anya.
As far as bridesmaid dresses go, they’re all the same, those multiway ones that reckon they can mummify any shape or size in several different styles. The only thing to choose is the colour.
‘The blue,’ Cordelia confirms. ‘With the light blue bolero, to cover her arms.’
I mean, where to begin? With the implication that something is wrong with my arms, or the fact she’s dressing me like Elsa fromFrozenfor a summer wedding?
‘It’s a bit cool, maybe, for my colouring,’ I say tactfully. ‘Warmer tones tend to?—’
‘I want blue,’ Cordelia informs me. ‘It’s my wedding and I want you in blue. I thought the bridesmaid’s job was to please the bride and you’re, what? Trying to outshine me?’
‘That’s not what I was?—’
‘It’s Andy and me getting married,’ she reminds me. ‘We decide. When you get married, you can call the shots then. Okay?’
One shot I would call, if I ever do get married, is absolutely no reciprocating bridesmaid duties. Cordelia is the last person I would want by my side.
‘Perhaps we could—’ Anya starts, but Cordelia cuts her off too.
‘The blue,’ Cordelia tells her. ‘Thank you.’
I try on the dress in silence, staring at my reflection and telling myself this doesn’t matter. It’s just a dress. It’s just one day. It’s not that bad. It is very much Elsa when she sings ‘Let It Go’ but that’s what I need to do: I need to let this go and make sure no one suggests putting my long blonde hair in a side plait.
I leave Cordelia in the Rosewood hotel room where she’s trying on dresses – and where she’ll sleep the night before the wedding – and head back to the lodge. I bump into Andy almost straight away.
