‘Well, if you’re looking to try, you should sign up at the front desk. The guides are used to showing beginners around, so I promise you’ll be in good hands.’ Benji didn’t offer to take her himself, because that felt off now that he knew she’d been interested in him.
‘Yeah, maybe I will.’ When the photographer called her to take a picture with the other bridesmaids, she winked and said, ‘I hope she realizes what a catch she has.’
And Benji replied, ‘Don’t settle for anyone who wouldn’t give you everything,’ even though he knew he’d never follow the same advice.
Chapter 6
Her hands still shook three hours later.
As Sierra drove towards downtown Santa Ynez, she gripped the steering wheel and took deep breaths to try and calm her anxiety. Her thoughts, fractured and confused, circled pointlessly. Her heart beat frantically in her chest.
She wasn’t even sure what had pushed her to that edge: Seeing Ty or holding Benji’s hand? Both? The fact that she had been one second away from running from Ty before Benji’s hand had closed over hers?
When the urge to call Markus and tell him that she got caught up with work rose, Sierra pushed it down, knowing that it would have been a weak excuse. She needed to show up for Nina. Shewouldshow up for Nina, a woman who not only loved her brother and Poppy fiercely and was about to become family, but who had also literally saved Mav’s life.
‘You’re fine,’ Sierra told herself, as she looked at her own face in the rear-view mirror. ‘You’re fine. You’re fine.’ She took several deep breaths. ‘You’re fine.’
She pulled into the small parking lot in front of Gifford’s Bridal Boutique and turned off her car. She’d called the boutique ahead of time and reserved the entire store by shamelessly name-dropping ‘Nina Keller’. For a long moment she just sat there, staring at the phantom brides in the gorgeous gowns behind the big glass windows.
Memories rose, pulling that suffocating grief up with them. Sierra slammed one hand on the steering wheel. She ground her teeth, reminded herself, ‘You’re fine,’ one last time before grabbing her purse and climbing out of the car.
Gifford’s hadn’t changed. Inside, soft creams provided a neutral backsplash for the white dresses. The carpeted floor was pristinely vacuumed. The thermostat set to a cosy seventy. Classical music drifted through from hidden speakers. Dozens of dresses hung along the walls in plastic protective covers. In the far corner of the room, a single pedestal rose out of the carpet. Behind it, a trio of huge mirrors, gilded in gold, provided the bride-to-be with every angle of her dress. In front of it sat a plush, three-person sofa for guests, and Markus, Nina and Poppy were already there, the adults holding flutes of champagne while Poppy held a glass of what Sierra assumed was apple juice.
Sierra hurried forward. ‘Sorry I’m a few minutes late.’
Nina waved away her apology. ‘How did the Sinclaire wedding go?’
‘Good. One minor emergency that was easily fixed,’ she lied.
An assistant, dressed in black, came forward with a flute of champagne, which Sierra took with murmured thanks.
‘Let me know if you need anything else.’ The assistant cast one adoring look in Nina’s direction before moving back to the racks of dresses.
‘Sometimes I forget that you’re actually quite famous,’ Sierra commented.
Nina smiled. ‘Me too.’
Before she’d been assaulted and had decided to take a year off from acting, Nina had been Hollywood’s Golden Girl. In fact, if the lovestruck looks Nina got every time she was in public were anything to go by, she still was. Sierra only forgot sometimes because at home, Nina wasn’t that glamorous, mysterious woman from the tabloids. She was just … Nina. She wore Maverick’s T-shirts, came home from the barn each night covered in horsehair, and cuddled Poppy when the five-year-old couldn’t sleep.
Even then, and although she somehow looked chic and fashionable, Nina was dressed casually in jeans with slashed knees, a Pulp Fiction graphic tee, and white sneakers.
‘All right, ladies – and gentleman.’ Aimee, the owner of Gifford’s, came out from the back room with three dresses draped over her arm. She hadn’t changed. Aimee was a reed-thin, French woman. Everything about her oozed perfection – her porcelain skin, her blonde hair, slicked back into a ballerina bun, her precise manicure. ‘Based on our phone call, Miss Keller, I’ve reserved some dresses that I think you’ll like.’ Although Sierra tried to keep out of the way, Aimee saw her and paused. She broke into a huge grin. ‘Fleur de la Vie.’
Sierra nodded. ‘That’s right.’
Sierra couldn’t fault the woman’s memory. She had bought theFleur de la Viethe day after Benji had proposed.
She had been so excited that she had called up her best friend, Jade, and together they had gone to look at wedding dresses. She’d never intended to buy anything, only browse for inspiration and styles, but when she’d come to Gifford’s, Aimee had insisted she try on the Fleur de la Vie – even with her hugely pregnant belly.
Sierra had immediately known the dress would be hers. She’d bought it intending to get it altered once they’d settled on a date and the baby had arrived.
And it had hung in her closet ever since.
‘How did your dress look on the day?’ the boutique owner demanded. Turning to the others, she informed them, ‘TheFleur de la Viewas made for her. Thin straps, slit down the front, embroidered wildflowers climbing up the skirts from the hem, fading out closer to the waist.C’était magnifique!’
Sierra merely nodded past the emotion in her throat. ‘It looked perfect,’ she lied. Taking the first dress from Aimee, she held it up for Nina’s inspection. ‘Let’s start with this one.’
Perhaps sensing Sierra’s distress, Nina popped up without further prompting. ‘Exciting!’ she exclaimed. Taking Aimee in hand, she gently redirected the woman. ‘Tell me what we have here?’
