Page 8 of Resolutions

“OH!” Ruthie squeals from the makeup chair, clapping. “What if it's boudoir photos? You know, the ones everyone posts about on social media.” She claps again. “Even better, what if Cameron booked a couple's photo session for your honeymoon and this is what he wants you to wear?”

“Why would he care if we see what she's wearing? We've all seen each other naked. We've changed in front of each other forever.” Connie hasn't taken her eyes off the box.

Debbie's gaze shifts from box to Ruthie. “Unless it's what Cameron's wearing, and he doesn't want his brothers to know.”

The three of us exchange knowing grins, imagining exactly what the older brothers would do to Cameron with that information.

“On second thought, better not show us.” Debbie steps back, crossing her arms. “I don't want to be the one who spills.”

“Would you?” I look at her, shocked.

“Listen, Colton is a god with his tongue. He once got me to admit all my credit card debt, even the hidden charges. I mean, lucky for me that he's always nosy and knows what buttons to push to get me to tell, if you know what I mean. I know he's going to ask what all of us talked about. That man...” She blows out a breath. “The way he flicks that damn thing, it's like it's double-jointed or something. I'm putty.” She shivers. “Nope, don't show me. If I don't know, I can't tell.”

“Count me out too.” Connie moves to stand next to Debbie. “Carson's exactly the same. Hates surprises and knows how to get me to spill it. Every year, he spends time with that tongue and I spoil every single Christmas present. No matter how hard I try, I end up a babbling mess. Happy, but a mess.” Connie crosses her arms. “You're right, it's that flicking. I tell him everything. And I'm sure Carson will want to know about today, too. They can't handle not knowing.”

“Damn.” I look at the two of them. “Cameron's got the same tongue talent. Where the hell did the three brothers learn how to do that movement?”

We burst out laughing. “Lucky Mom,” I say between giggles. My phone rings and I see my aunt's number. “Hi, hold on a second,” I tell her, standing. “It's my aunt. I'll take it in the dressing room.”

Everyone smiles, knowing how important they are to me. “No crying,” the makeup artist calls after me.

“Hi, are you alright?” I close the door. “It's not ceremony time yet.” Looking at my phone, I see the call has ended. I try calling back but get no answer. She must have been practicing technology and my aunt are barely acquaintances.

I sit on the bench and study the box. Glancing at the door, I pull at the tape. It comes away easier than expected. Inside, beneath lavender packing peanuts, I find an old flip phone with a bright green post-it note: “Answer Me When I Ring.”

My sweet Cameron, knowing I'd be sad about Mom and aunt, setting up a mystery to distract me. He knows how much I love a good mystery.

The phone rings, startling me. I fumble it open, playfully saluting. “Agent I. Lika B. OnaTop reporting in.”

A male groan responds - not Cameron's voice at all. “Believe me, I know.”

Instantly embarrassed, I stammered, “Oh, shit, I thought you were my fiancé. Please forgive me.”

Another groan. “God, I love it when women beg.”

Ice slides down my spine. “Who is this?”

“Listen very, very carefully,” the voice says, dripping with menace. “First, know that I can see everything you do. Second, and most importantly, I'm not a man to be disobeyed. If you don't do exactly as I instruct, there will be serious repercussions.”

I force a laugh. “Okay, ha ha, very funny guys. I'm laughing, okay? I have to go get ready now.”

“You're sitting on the bench against the blue and gold wallpapered wall.” His voice turns clinical, precise. “That white silk robe becomes you. Personally, I prefer black, but I can work with the white purity thing too. The open box is on your right side, phone box on your left.” A pause that makes my skin crawl. “I thought you were going to wear your hair up. Did naughtyCameron leave a mark yesterday when he fucked you in the shower?”

My stomach lurches. “How - WHO IS THIS?”

“Melanie, you know who this is. Now listen, sweetie, we're on a time crunch and your questions are delaying what needs to happen. So be a good bunny and be quiet and listen.”

“Listen? I don't think this is funny-”

“Oh, it's not meant to be funny. Not at all. This is business. Now, Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” The growl in his voice makes my hands shake.

“I don't know who you are or what you want, but I won't be spoken to-”

“SIT. DOWN. Melanie.” His tone shifts to something worse, anticipation. “Tell me, does your mother swim?”

My blood turns to ice. “What?”

“Do you think your mother remembers how to swim? Because if you don't start fucking doing as I say, we're going to find out when I toss her and your aunt overboard. NOW SIT DOWN!”

---