Page 104 of Darlin'

I facepalm. Andy's right. She needs to pick a dresstoday. I never thought Marlow would be a Bridezilla, but here we are, two weeks away from the wedding, and the girlstillcan't pick a flipping dress!

"You said you wantedclassic, Mar." I attempt to keep a cheery disposition despite the fact that time's a-ticking and I'm losing my patience with the girl. "This dress is thedefinition of classic." I offer her an encouraging smile. "You look like a princess."

Marlow glowers at me and I swear the ice in my glass gets colder. "I look like a fucking toilet bowl cleaner."

Andy snorts. "Oh my God, I kind of see it."

I smack Andy's arm, shooting her an unimpressed glare. "Not helping!"

Andy rolls her eyes. "You picked it..."

"This is allyourfault!" Marlow huffs, jumping off the platform. She hikes up the ballgown, her converse stomping on the carpet as she marches toward me. "You're the one who was like—" She scrunches her face, putting on a horrible southern accent that offendsallof my ancestors. "Have a big wedding, Marlow. Don't elope to Vegas, Marlow. It's gonna be the most magical day of your whole life, Marlow!" She deadpans. "I could've been married by now, but nooo... I had to go and listen to your stupid ass and now—" She sniffles and begins weeping. Oh, dear Lord, I've broken the sweet little thing. "And now I'm wearing a dress with fifty layers of tulle!"

"Good job, Blondie," Andy scowls. "You've made her cry."

"Doyouwant to cry too,Andrea?" I ask, perking up a combative brow. "We both know I could take you."

Andy glares at me. "I was drunk and off my game that night,Savannah."

Pippa snorts, juice shooting out her nose. "I almost forgot about that!" She leans over, grinning at me. "Remind me how it felt to sock this bitch in the face. I want to live vicariously again."

"Therapeutic," I say, proud of myself. Ironically, thenight I punched Andy in the jaw for calling me a bimbo for the umpteenth time, is when we finally started becoming friends. Andy glares at me. "Oh get over it, Andy, that months ago."

"I'll get you," she mutters, sulking into her seat. "Best beware."

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots,” I jeer, turning my attention to Marlow who's on the brink of losing it completely. "Mar, look at me." She sniffles, wiping a tear off her cheek. "If you don't want to wear a ballgown, that's totally fine but you're gonna have to choose something, okay? Heck, at this point, wear whatever you want. You wanna wear a trash bag? That's fine by me but pick something. Anything!"

Marlow bites her lip, gaze floating to the rack of dresses she vehemently discarded weeks ago. "I mean... I didkind oflike the sparkly one with the slit?—"

"Yes!" I stand up. Hope is here! I run over to the rack and flip through the dozens of dresses she saidhell noto until I find the one possible maybe. "Here! Try it on again! I think this might be the one?—"

The door to Vision in White suddenly swings open. "Oh, fuck me!" Ryder throws his head back and lets out a boisterous laugh. "Jesus Christ, Mar, what the hell are you wearing?!"

"I'm going to kill you," I grunt, shooting Ryder fiery daggers as Marlow breaks down in tears again and rushes to the restroom. "Andy, you best get your man out of here before I do something I might regret."

"Let's go, dumbass." Andy hops up and grabs Ryder by the arm. "Next time, just don't speak, okay?

"What? I was just —" Ryder doesn't finish his sentence as Andy drags him out of the store.

"This is a nightmare," I grumble, checking the time. "Pip?"

Pippa blinks, looking up from hereighthdrink. "Yup?"

"I gotta go check on the studio quickly." I grab my jacket from the hanger. "Can you see if she's—" I nod at the washroom. Poor girl. "Just get her to stop crying, will ya?"

Pippa salutes me. "I'm on it!"

"Thanks, I'll be back soon."

Folding my jacket over my arm, I sprint down the street toward the studio. It better be done by now. One more mishap and I'm going to have to fire my contractors. It's been four months now, and I've had to push back the launch datetwice. I get that they want it to be perfect, but it was perfect two configurations ago! I can see why it took so long to renovate The Hog last year. He's a dang closeted perfectionist.

As I turn onto the main street, I tilt my head back and smile at the pretty pink sign.Little Darlin' Dance Studio. Jesse insisted on LED lighting even though it cost a pretty penny more than regular old vinyl. I tried to argue, but arguing with Jesse is like talking to a brick wall. A burly, beautiful brick wall.

"Jesse?" I call out, stepping into the studio. Gratitude flows through me as I sweep my finger along the front desk, admiring the pristine white walls, grey flooring, and all the personal touches Jesse and my brother spent months perfecting. "Beau? Anyone here? Jesse?"

"Looks good, huh?" I jump as Beau creeps up behindme, his overalls covered with hot pink paint. "Bathrooms are all done. Just don't go touching the walls or anything. Still wet."

"This is amazing," I gush, leaning against my brother's shoulder. "You guys went above and beyond, truly. It's incredible."

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