Page 104 of Love and Other Trials
He turned and gave her a frigid glare. “You’re pissing me off.”
“Good!” The cottage was in sight, and he was still following. “Me too! Personally, I hate fighting with people I love. And I’m a newbie over fighting over something like a frame-up. Although Tiffany did blame me for breaking Mother’s favorite Waterford vase one time, which I couldn’t un-prove. Is that a word?”
“Sorry, but I hate your sister,” he spat. “And your whole family except Jeffrey.”
“We have that in common, then,” she answered, her limbs as heavy as concrete now. “I sometimes do too.”
Sherlock greeted them at the door. She leaned down and put her head against his fur, hugging him. He nuzzled her softly, and she felt rare tears fill her eyes.
“Sherlock, you take care of Dax.” She took Dax’s stiff hand and led him to the couch, pushing him not so gently down. “Sit.”
Her precious dog leaped into Dax’s lap—all one hundred pounds of him. “I thought you needed me to zip you up.”
“Settle down first.” She headed to her bedroom, knowing she should be rushing around, but all the life was drained out of her.
Another Deverell family event.
How could she have imagined it would be any different from the rest?
She pulled on her dress after stripping, glad she’d left it in her closet and not taken it over to the bridal suite. She’d known she couldn’t handle being in there with the others. She’d also been hoping to avoid the makeup. Which she had. She almost laughed at that, but she was worried the laugh would turn into a sob.
God, she hoped everything was in place. Maybe Tiffany would be too elated her dress was back to ask many questions.
Oh, who was she kidding?
The crisis had leached all the color from her face, she noted in the mirror, so she went and added powder and a touch of blush along with the nude pink lip gloss Jeffrey had chosen for her.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she brushed her hair. She looked like bridezilla’s sister with her glazed-over eyes and pale features. Blush couldn’t get rid of that look on her face. And then there was her hair. The curls were sticking out in all directions. She smoothed them with some water and clenched her eyes shut.
Please let this wedding come off without a hitch.
Taking one last look, she tried to smile before heading back to her room and stepping into her heels. Maybe she should go barefoot. Be faster. Then she shook her head. With her luck, she’d step on a nail and end up with lockjaw or something.
Her being hospitalized wouldn’t make Tiffany more compassionate.
Then she remembered how her sister had stood up for her about the wig. Later she’d threatened her with Grandma’s house again. She just couldn’t predict what her sister was going to do. She made a point of strapping on her garter flask. Because she was not going to leave home without it. Not today.
Striding back to the main room, she found Dax where she’d left him, Sherlock in his lap. He stopped rubbing him under his ears and looked up at her, his green eyes missing the warmth and light she was used to. “Your dog has gotten hair all over my dress whites.”
She laughed in a high-pitched tone she didn’t recognize, then pressed her hand to her mouth. “Sorry.”
His mouth gave a twitch before he flattened it. “Can I get up now?”
“Sherlock. Off.”
Her dog jumped from Dax’s lap and came to her side. She rubbed him gently and smiled into his expressive eyes. He gave a whine.Yeah, that’s how I’m feeling, buddy.
“Will you zip me up?” She turned and presented her back to Dax.
There was a pause, and then he kissed the nape of her neck. Slowly. Tenderly. Long enough to make her throat ache. The hiss of the zipper finally rent the silence. A knock sounded on the door. She went over to answer it. Jeffrey stood on the other side, his face red.
“Went that good, did it?” she asked rhetorically, lifting her skirt and taking out her flask and offering it to him.
He gave a sputter of laughter before taking a drink and handing it to her. She took one pull herself before handing it to Dax. He waved his hand, refusing.
“Okay, boys. Let’s go. Sherlock, I’ll see you later.”
With another pat, she was outside, her heels clicking on the path. The rub of the cold metal flask against her thigh was a comfort. When she arrived at the wedding site, she scanned the area. The guests were all seated and talking to each other, happy wedding music playing over the loudspeakers. The sweetgrass baskets filled with flowers, a Charleston wedding tradition, graced the Welcome Table. Everything looked to be in place except for the bridal party, who were likely waiting for their cue.
