Page 27 of Scar

“Um, the morning of the 9th,” she whispers.

“That’s 10 days away,” I point out.

“It’s the only time I can think that it would be okay. They go away, and Mother goes off to one of her beauty retreats, and if they are to believe it is in fact the bridal shop, an immediate appointment wouldn’t happen,” she adds quietly.

“Fine,” I reluctantly agree. “But if anything happens before then, you call, text, anything, and I will fucking be there. Understand?” I growl.

“I will,” she whispers.

“Promise me,” I press.

I swear I can hear her smiling. “I promise.”

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing,” I tease.

Her laughter sings down the phone to me. “I’ve got to go,” she whispers, her voice lighter than when she answered.

“Fine, see you soon Angel,” I sigh.

“Bye,” she whispers, then disconnects the call.

Exhaling a long breath, I turn around to see Star sat at the bar whit a shit eating grin. “What?” I sigh.

She smiles and shrugs. “I think you like her,” she points out.

“Of course I like her, she saved my damn life,” I counter.

Star shakes her head. “Nope, it’s more than that. You like her, like her.”

I glare at her. “That isn’t what this is. She’s a friend, and I ain’t ever getting involved like that again,” I affirm.

I half-expected Star to press, to push the conversation further like she normally does. Instead, she surprises the shit out of my me by nodding. “Okay. If you say so.” She shrugs.

I raise my brow at her, wondering what exactly her angle is, but she just hops off the stool, places a gentle kiss on my cheek, and saunters off. I look around to see if anyone else witnessed this. Jesus, she must be concussed or some shit.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ELSIE

These past 9days have dragged by. I swear, I should receive an award for my acting skills. After walking back in after the phone call with Scar, I told Layton that the dress I’d originally chosen had been accidentally resold, due to the sales assistant not marking it properly. I then told him they were getting in all the dresses that were similar from other stores for me to try on. Layton had kicked off and said I should go elsewhere, but I told him that the store was knocking 20 percent off the price for the inconvenience, as well as free adjustments. He’d then shut up and nodded for me to go.

I had wanted to message Scar so many times, just to talk to him. However, I refrained, not wanting to risk being found out. One more night and I would see him. It was hard to hide my smile when I thought about it. Walking into the kitchen, my eyes landed on Mother who was sat at the kitchen island nursing a bloody Mary. It’s midday, so that’s probably her fourth drink today. She flicks her gaze to me but then glances back down at her magazine.

“I am going to come with you tomorrow,” she states.

My hand tenses on the fridge door. Turning around to face her, I plaster a mask of indifference on my face. “I thought youwere busy?” I ask as I place my yogurt on the counter. I can feel her poisonous eyes on me, watching my every move.

“I do, but shouldn’t a mother be there when her daughter chooses her wedding dress? Plus, I don’t like the way they have handled the situation. Clearly you aren’t being firm enough, and they need reminding who your father is.” She tuts.

I keep my focus on getting a spoon for my yogurt, ignoring my thumping heartbeat in my chest. Hesitantly, I take it out and sit down. “If you want to, that would be great. It would be nice to have your opinion.” I shrug as I place a spoonful of yogurt in my mouth. Looking her in the eye, I hold her gaze. If I show even the slightest bit of weakness of anything, she will know I’m lying, and she will make it her mission to come just to ruin it for me.

She picks up her drink and takes a sip. “Excellent, if we go in the morning, I can leave from there and still make my plans,” she beams.

Shit, shit, shit!I scream internally while smiling and nodding tightly.

“Great, I will call them and reschedule for the early morning.” I nod as I pull my phone from my pocket and hit call. As I press it to my ear, I pray that one of the ol’ ladies answers. Just in case my mother snatches my phone from my grasp.

“Hello, Chic Couture,” a soft voice answers.

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