Page 112 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

I was dress agnostic. Sometimes I found pieces like the one Millie bought that made me feel good, but most of the time I recognised that beauty was pain and I didn’t want to suffer for it. They were uncomfortable, left me feeling awkward, and I got little of the pay off. But making people happy? Yeah, I liked that, and Nadia looked near bloody radiant right now. I hoped Frankie was working hard to get the sharpest suit he could find to try and match her perfection when she walked down the aisle.

“Good,” Mum said, her fingers wrapping around my arm. “You can come and look for one for yourself.”

Chapter 51

Jamie

“What?” I planted my feet, stopping her from taking me anywhere. “In a wedding boutique?” All of a sudden, the racks of white dresses felt a whole lot more oppressive.

“Not a wedding gown.” She said that as if it was self-evident, but that edge to her voice, it made me think that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. “One of the bridesmaid dresses. Something like that would work for the engagement party.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” I said, throwing off her grip. “We’re here for Nadia.”

But I saw why Mum was making the most of the moment. Nadia’s family was all clustered around her, discussing how perfect the dress was, and that’s where we should’ve been. It’s why we were here in the first place, right? But when my mother turned to look around at what was happening, I saw a sadness in her eyes.

She’d never have this kind of experience.

My paternal grandmother didn’t get on very well with Mum, and her mother was an even bigger ball buster. I rarely saw any of my cousins and my aunts were all busy with their lives. Mum didn’t have a gaggle of daughters to go through this ritual with, and not for the first time did I wish some of my brothers were girls. Then she could have focussed all of that wedding fever on someone who appreciated it.

Instead, she just had me.

“Stop fighting, Jamie,” Mum sighed. “Just this once, can you humour me?”

“Mum, the shop assistants will just about expire on the spot if I touch one of their dresses,” I hissed at her. “They’re thinking exactly what you are, that I’m some dirty grease monkey that has no place here.” I looked at my hands. “What if I stain one of the dresses I put on?”

“That will never happen,” she said, grabbing my arm and steering me towards the other end of the boutique. That was where all the colour was, the racks of bridesmaids’ dresses hanging neatly.

“Looking for something in particular?” another shop assistant said, her eyes sliding up and down as she looked me over.

“My daughter needs a formal dress for an engagement party,” Mum said, ignoring the other woman’s expression.

“I don’t—” I started to say.

“Something in blue, I think.” My lips thinned as Mum charged on, the assistant’s expression a mirror of mine. She didn’t want me trying on her dresses any more than I did. “It’ll bring out the colour of her eyes.”

“Blue…” The assistant crossed the floor to the rack of blue and purple dresses before turning to size me up. “So you’re a fourteen?”

“Size twelve,” I corrected sheepishly. “Well, usually. It depends on the brand…”

The assistant ignored whatever I had to say, whisking a few dresses out before presenting them to us.

“Oh, the royal blue…” Mum clasped her hands to her chest. “That will look magnificent on you, Jamie.”

“The turquoise may suit—” the assistant started to say, but Mum shook her head, snatching the dress from the other woman’s hands then ushering me towards the dressing rooms. The royal blue dress was hung up and I was shoved inside, the curtain pulled closed.

How’s it going?

The message from Brock came through right as I was reaching for my shirt, ready to pull it off, so the excuse to delay was grabbed with both hands. I tapped out a quick reply.

Being made to try on dresses for the engagement party.

White dresses? I could almost hear his dry tone.

Not yet, but I wouldn’t put it past her. I took a quick snap of the blue dress before sending it to him.

“Jamie?” Mum’s voice carried through the curtain. “How are we going in there? Do you need a size up?”

I needed a portal out of here, but that was never going to happen. Perfumed steamroller, that’s how I’d described my mother, and the only way I knew how to deal with her was to lie down and let her roll over me, then make a quick escape.

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