Page 1 of Sunny Skies Ahead
Chapter one
Imogen
Growing up, my father had a theory about hell.
He was fascinated with the notion that hell meant something different to everyone else. For some, it might be standing in a line at an amusement park that never moves, or sitting in a waiting room and never having your name called.
I decided that for me, my personal hell was standing in the doorway of a bridal salon, drowning in a sea of white.
White lace, white pearls, and so,somuch tulle. To my eternal horror, there were even white feathers.
I didn’t like to dwell on thoughts of my marriage. I’d worked tirelessly to leave that behind; to distance myself from the memories.
But standing in this bridal salon in Brighton while the nice woman at the front desk ran to find my best friend, Abbie, I wondered what it would have been like to wear a dress like this. To stand in front of God and everyone I loved and swear to love the person beside me until the end of my days.
As a child, I thought marriage meant a happy ending. As a teenager, I thought marriage was my ticket out of a bad situation.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d been foolish and naive, just like everyone warned me.
I turned away from the front desk towards the entrance to the store. The tall glass windows framing the busy streets of Brighton reflected my brown skin back to me, shoulder-length black curls framing my round face. I gazed at my reflection for the briefest of moments, toying with a stray curl that never seemed to lay where I wanted it.
“Good afternoon!”
I startled, whirling to face the woman. It was a different woman this time, dressed in the same solid black attire, but with a name-tag that readDiana.
“You’re here with Abbie Collins, right? She’s right this way.”
Diana led me towards the fitting rooms. I kept my arms tucked in firmly to my sides as we slipped through the overfilled racks of fluffy white. The back of the store had four fitting rooms, two on each side, divided by a center hallway that ended with a curved mirror and a pedestal in the middle.
“Thank God you’re here!”
I turned around to face my best friend, painting what I hoped was an excited expression on my face.
“I’m here.”
“I was nervous you were going to bail last minute.”
I gasped in mock outrage.
“This is your final wedding dress fitting we’re talking about here. I would never bail on you. I’ll be the only voice of reasonhere, if those feathered monstrosities in the showroom prove anything.”
Abbie shook her head, but her eyes shone brightly with affection. She walked towards the pedestal, fiddling with her hands before smoothing them down the front of her dress. I recognized it as the reception dress she’d picked out several months prior. Simple satin draped elegantly over her curves, a long slit cut to her upper thigh from ankle-length, and two thin straps crisscrossed in the back for an added detail. It was everything her ceremony dress was not, and that’s what made it so special.
“All that aside, a bridal boutique is kind of the worst place for a commitment-phobe to be,” Abbie teased.
I rolled my eyes. I might be commitment-phobic now, but I hadn’t been at eighteen.
Diana appeared behind me as Abbie stepped onto the pedestal, turning around to view the dress from the side. I stepped forward to ensure that all the adjustments had been made, seamlessly transitioning into the role of maid of honor. Diana gave us both a warm smile.
“Can I get either of you some champagne or sparkling water?”
I hesitated for a moment and then shrugged.
“Sparkling water would be great, thank you.”
The stylist disappeared from the fitting room area, leaving Abbie standing alone on the pedestal, twisting to get a look at the back of the dress.
“Everything look okay?”
