Page 25 of In a Pinch

“What do you think, babe?” I ask.

“I wish I could pick them both. What do you guys think?”

Carrie pipes in, “The classic look never goes out of style. It’s my vote, but I am good with whatever makes you happy.

“I think the last one suited you better, but you look great in both,” Liv says.

“We all know I am going to choose the dress I picked out,” I pipe in.

“What about you, Anna? What do you think?” Isla asks.

“You look stunning in both of them. Whichever brings you the most joy and makes you feel the most beautiful needs to be your pick. And if neither of them are it, we still have the appointment at the other location.”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t think I can handle anymore dresses.” Isla does look tired, but getting in and out of a bajillion dresses is a lot of work. So, fair.

“How about this: let’s get you back into the other dress, add a veil and a bouquet, and see if you get the feeling you’re looking for?” asks the consultant, smiling as she walks to the back.

The second Isla steps out of her dressing room with a veil and flowers in her hands, it is finally my turn to cry. Once she stands to her full height on the pedestal and looks at herself as an actual bride, she starts crying, which means, now every one of us is crying. Our girl is getting married.

“Bridget, I need the bell,” Isla says. Bridget hands it to her, and Isla rings it loud and proud.

She’s got her man, and she’s got the dress, too.

Chapter Twelve

Addie

Sometimes, you make the day your bitch. Carpe diem, or whatever. Other times, life is a real asshole. Today is the latter. Like, one of those days when you wake up and the day goes wrong. My alarm didn't go off, I dropped and broke my favorite foundation, got a speeding ticket, and the real kicker, spilled coffee on my boss’s super expensive designer suit. I even called my mom crying from the bathroom after. She did her best, but not even a mom pep talk can pull me out of this shithole.

I hate my life.

Luckily, Mr. Becker and I have been on better terms. He might have lost his shit over the suit thing, but me hysterically crying killed that for him pretty quickly. He actually apologizedto me? This is my life now. Every time we are on the up and up, something comes around and gives me a punch to the cooter.

As I try to hurry and pack my desk, Mr. Becker stops in front of it.

“Addie, I know it was a rough day, but I wanted to let you know that you are doing a great job. Don’t let a bad day get you down. I will see you tomorrow morning. Try to keep the coffee in the cup next time, eh?"

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Thank you, I appreciate that. Tomorrow will be a better day.” Though, we got off on the wrong foot, I have decided I do like working for him. Since it’ll be a while before I have the chance to climb the ladder and get a promotion here, the way he challenges me will fill the void of needing to fix the chaos. Because all his cases are shit shows. Although, those are the best kinds.

“You got that right, kiddo. We start a big case tomorrow, so bring your A game.”

“You can expect nothing less.”

He smiles and nods, before sauntering down the empty hallway. Everyone else left thirty minutes ago. And if I don't hustle, I will be late to Prince Charming’s class. Again. And I really don’t need a third bad thing to add to my day.

Walking into the room, I go front and center and realize there is no Isla. Maybe she got off work late? I was so busy hustling over here that I didn't even check my texts to see if she was running late.

I pull my phone out of my purse. Oh, goody. She's not just late, she isn’t coming. She had a crisis at work and is now having to stay late to fix it. She sends me her love and a million ‘I’m sorry’s'.

This day is honestly just the freaking worst. I don’t know who has my voodoo doll, but if they could just cut the shit, that would be great.

Sam stands at the front of the classroom, his jeans and T-shirt hidden beneath his green apron. He cracks a smile and starts class off.

“Welcome back, everyone. We’ve only got a couple classes left, and I hope you’ve had as much fun as I have. You all crushed the chicken parm last week.” He moves to stand in between my station and our neighbors’, Marcie and her husband, whose name I have yet to remember. To me he is Bob.

“Today, we are putting together what you’ve learned, and you will be creating your own dinner. Hopefully, if you nail it, you’ll be able to bring home a full meal tonight.”

The class laughs at his joke, which makes his smile broaden. He really has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. He should do it more often. My eyes stay stuck on him for longer than I want to admit. He’s actually annoyingly attractive. It should be illegal to look that good in an apron.

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