Page 110 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

“Yes,” Brock said at the same time. He smirked my way as I glared at him, but his hand went around my waist. “Now, sweetheart, you hang out here, have a good time, and let me know when you need to be picked up. If you find something you like…” He scanned the wall of wedding dresses, then fished out his wallet and handed me his card. “You grab it using that.”

I blinked, Nadia blinked, everyone in the shop blinked as my limp fingers were closed around the card, all of us watching Brock as he sauntered out. He touched a finger to his temple as he walked, performing a funny little salute in recognition of the attention he was getting. Attention that transferred to me as soon as he was out of sight.

“Damn, how do I get me one of them?” one woman with the same beautiful blonde hair as Nadia said.

“You’re married, bitch,” another woman with similar features said, giving her a shove. The first woman had to put her hand over her champagne flute, lest it spill. “What I want to know is how far those tattoos go.”

“You’re both married,” an older woman with kind eyes said, giving them a long look. “Now, you’re Frankie’s sister, Jamie?” I nodded. “Good, good, so we need to do some introductions. I’m Nadia’s mum, Deidre, and these are her sisters, Kelly and Jan. This is her auntie Hilary…”

I tried my best to remember all the names, but knew it was a losing battle. They all seemed to blur together until I caught sight of Mum sitting there, wine glass held stiffly between her fingers.

“Of course you know Majorie,” Deidre joked and I smiled, but Mum didn’t, staring me down. She took in what I was wearing, seeming to take in every wrinkle, every stain, right up until she reached my work boots, a frown forming.

“Hi, Mum.”

I waved my hand with a weak smile, and that seemed to kick her into gear. She stood tall and walked over with all of the hauteur of a runway model.

“So, you were able to get away from work after all?”

What choice did I have? My message bank was filled with increasingly hostile voice messages, and I’d gotten so many texts I’d been forced to put my phone into Do Not Disturb mode.

“Yep.”

I tried to keep my tone light so as to not make things awkward, but with introductions over, the whole room came to life. A flute of champagne was shoved into my hands and I was plonked in a seat in front of a charcuterie board, able to snag a chunk of cheese as everyone else flitted around Nadia. Her current dress was discussed with great animation by all her family members.

“And those are the best clothes you could find?” Mum hissed at me as women pulled dresses off racks, shoving them at Nadia. “You look like a street urchin.”

“I look like a fucking mechanic, Mum.”

I was being far too blunt, but I didn’t know what else she wanted from me. Sure enough, her mouth fell open, gasping for a moment before she sucked in a breath to tell me off. Instead, I placed the wine glass on the table, grabbed another chunk of cheese, because damn, it was this sharp, crumbly vintage cheddar and it tasted amazing, but as I chewed, I drew closer. We were here to help Nadia find a dress, and by the look on the bride-to-be’s face, she was going to need it.

Nadia’s family was just as sweet, but overwhelming, with it. When I saw the whites of my brother’s fiance’s eyes, I knew exactly what she was feeling.

“This one, darling!” one of her aunt’s said. “With your tiny waist and slim body, you’ll look like a princess. Look at the beautiful embroidery on the skirts.”

“Too fussy,” a cousin said with a definite shake of her head. “And going to the toilet in a dress like that is hell. Ask me how I know.” She shot Nadia a meaningful look. “Unless you want a bridesmaid on loo duty all night, or refuse to drink a damn thing, those dresses are hell.”

“She could wear the dress down the aisle, then wear something simpler for the reception,” the aunt countered.

“And she won’t need to pee before the ceremony?” another auntie said. “I went like twenty times before we made it down the aisle. Nervous bladder. No, something like this.” She held up a similar gown with a strapless bodice but less full skirts. “It’ll be more manageable.”

“Except she’ll be hiking that up all night.” This was Nadia’s grandmother, or great grandmother by the look of her. “Frankie might like it, with our girl having her goodies out on display. Might have him running up the aisle to nab her before she changes her mind.” She smiled as she turned to the bride-to-be. “Straps, my girl, mark my words. You’ll be thanking me before the wedding’s end.”

“But she has such beautiful shoulders…”

“A full skirt is so romantic…”

“A fishtail skirt will make the most of her curves…”

The shop assistant tried to interject, her eyes widening as she saw hideously expensive dresses waved around like flags, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

And neither could Nadia.

I knew exactly what was going on. She was getting drowned in advice, the waves of it coming so thick and fast she couldn’t keep her head above water.

And that’s when I stepped in.

Wriggling my way through the crowds was a bit of a feat, especially when I was trying very hard not to step on all of these expensive dresses, but when I reached her side, Nadia shot me a hopeless look. My hand reached out impulsively, taking hers and giving it a squeeze, before I leaned in close to say the words I’d want to hear if I was her.

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