Page 21 of Burning for You

The subway rideto Sass gives me a few moments to gather myself before facing people.

After sorting out a few store and supplier emergencies, I’m finally able to sit down in my office, gorging on my lunch.

Before long, I hear a light knock at my door. It’s Bear.

“Come in. What have you got there?” I say, seeing a folder in his hand.

“What have you got there?” He nods at my plate. I know it looks like as if a dog had eaten off it.

I smile while finishing my bite of the hard taco shell, with fillings that are too much for me to chew.

“And what’s that?” Bear frowns so deeply at my drink, he looks like a grizzly who has just lost its salmon.

“Brandy and soda,” I say, slurping. It might not be a wise choice after my ordeal, but I’ve concluded that my loss of consciousness was all because of stress, not lack of food.

“Okay. I’m going to pretend that you’re normal.”

“Sit down,” I fumble my words through the clumps of brandy-drenched food in my mouth. “Show me!”

“Your possible wedding dresses,” Bear says. “They can wait. Tell me what the hell happened.”

I wipe my hands and take the folder off Bear.

My designer bestie sketches with colored pencils. The dresses glow, each with its own distinct shades and embellishment, even though they’re effectively white on white—a testament to his skills and attention to detail.

They look magnificent, but it hits me: I’m going to stand in front of the altar, saying ‘I do’ to Josh. Even though we still haven’t set a date, looking at wedding dresses just makes it all very real.

With enthusiasm, Bear points at the first design and says, “Marchesa-esque. What do you think? Warm whites, bold laces.”

I nod at the A-line gown. It’s stunning, but perhaps a bit too whimsical for me.

Bear chuckles at my expression. “Okay, maybe not.” He moves on to the next sketch. “This one… oh my God, I was thinking of Natalie Portman. I know she copped a lot of flak for her choice, but it’s a fun dress. I modified it to full length, so it suits your height.”

“I actually prefer the first one over this,” I say.

“Okay…” Bear says, nervous. “And this is my own interpretation of ‘simple and classic.’ I thought you’d shine in this. Pure white.”

It’s a stunning silk slip dress. I can see myself walking the aisle wearing it, with perhaps a bouquet of white roses. But thinking about who will be holding my arm when we leave the church makes my heart hurt. “Oh, Bear…”

My confidante holds my hand. “Hey, what is it?”

“How do you and Blake keep your love alive?”

He pulls up a chair next to me. “You have cold feet?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is your heart in it?”

“I don’t even know if I have a heart.”

Bear shakes his head. “Come on, babe. If you’re capable of loving me, you must have a heart. I mean, we’re like Thelma and Louise with a happy ending.”

Bear and I have been best friends since we were eleven. He met his sweetheart Blake Wright at a basketball club, and they’d kept their relationship hush-hush for years. There were countless times when Bear would come to me in tears; the hardest was when he was thrown out by his parents after admitting he was gay. He was only sixteen then.

“Look, Caro. Blake and I are just ordinary guys. There’s no secret to why we’re still together after—” Bear apparently makes a mental calculation. “—oh my God, it’s twelve years! We’re just two people who met and opened up to each other, and said, ‘I’m willing to stand by you.’”

“That’s amazing,” I say, admiring him and at the same time appreciating the slip dress sketch in my hand.

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