Page 5 of Storm in a Teacup
She exhales a groan, reluctantly dropping her hand while I finish the buttons and then step back. As I do, I yank open the curtain of the dressing room right as Kensie, Mel’s closest friend and maid of honor, enters the shop, clackity heels echoing on the tile floor.
“Sorry I’m late!” she shouts, long, dark ponytail swingingaggressively behind her. “I took a bus because it was more direct than the tube, but the traffic today is horrendous.” She drops her leather bag in a chair, then looks up, slapping her hands over her heart. “Oh! Mel, you’re gorgeous!”
She approaches as Mel steps fully out of the dressing room and onto the little raised platform in front of a three-way mirror.
I say lightly, “It looks like it fits. Does it feel like it fits?”
Mel stares at herself in the mirror, eyes watering.
“Shit,” Kensie and I say together. We step onto the platform, taking our places at Mel’s side.
“You’re beautiful, Melly,” I say, squeezing her arm.
Kensie hums in agreement, hand finding its place on Mel’s shoulder. “This is the perfect dress. Are you happy?”
Mel nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s perfect,” she whispers.
Kensie thinks quickly, hopping back down from the platform to fetch tissues from her bag. Stepping back up, she offers the pack to Mel.
Mel takes one and dabs at her tears. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional.”
Kensie nudges her. “Because you’re excited.”
“And hot,” I add.
“I do look hot, don’t I?” She’s practically glowing, so elated. So in love.
When I was engaged, I was never at the level of excitement Mel is. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Atticus at the time, but marrying him would have been a mistake. I was happy, sure. There were a lot of things to be happy about during my engagement, and I embraced them all, but I wasn’tthislevel of happy about marrying the man himself. So, I’m very glad I didn’t.
Marriage isn’t really for me, anyway. I’m not anti-marriage, I’mjust anti me being in any sort of romantic relationship. They never work out, and that’s okay.
The tailor comes out and claps her hands together. “Oh, gorgeous, darling. It’s perfect. How does it feel?”
Kensie and I step aside so the tailor can fuss over Mel.
I ask Kensie, “Anything you need me to do for tomorrow?”
Mel’s bridal shower is the following day, which is the main reason I’m in London for the weekend.
She shakes her head. “I think it’s all sorted. I have all the party favors packed into my girlfriend’s car and have printed out all the games and such. You and Mel just need to show up.” She squeezes me on the arm. “She is so happy you were able to come for this.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too. It’s not that far of a trek, though.”
“For an American, I suppose. You lot act like it’s perfectly normal to drive three hours one way for a concert.”
I laugh because she’s right.
Kensie continues, “Anyway, she knows it can be hard to step away from the shop.”
I manage an antique shop up in Edinburgh. My Auntie Carolyn owns it, but as she is aging, I have taken more and more control of everything. “Carolyn gives me grief aboutnotstepping away from the shop more than I do.”
Mel finishes up with the tailor as they decide the dress does indeed fit perfectly. Kensie helps her take the dress off, then we pack it into a garment bag and are on our way.
The sky is dark by the time we leave, so Mel hands the garment bag to Kensie to carry and loops her arm through mine. “Steps,” she says as we exit the bridal shop, down two concrete stairs.
I squeeze her on the arm and mutter a thanks. I saw the steps, but she’ll warn me about them in broad daylight as well. I tookone little tumble down a step exiting a shop once, and now she expects me to take that exact tumble every time we come across any variety of stairs.
Mel says, “Do we want to head back to mine? Julien is still away, so we could have a girls’ night.”
