Always the Last Word (Always the Bridesmaid #4)
Always the Last Word (Always the Bridesmaid #4)
Author: Crystal Bowling
Chapter One
Just stay quiet, Evie.
I freeze in place, huddled behind a rack of wedding gowns in the backroom at Something New Bridal Boutique. I barely allow myself to breathe as the click-clack of kitten heels becomes more frantic and the seconds tick past. I know it's beyond pitiful that any self-respecting twenty-six-year-old should be hiding at her place of employment. I'm not proud of this moment in my life. And, let's be real, the jury is still out on the whole 'self respecting' bit.
The footsteps come to a stop and I let a long, slow breath. Whew. Another interaction successfully avoided. I am just about to move out from behind the row of ball gowns when the dresses part like the Red Sea and, instead of seeing the promise land, I see the panic-stricken face of Jamie Valentine, part-time event planner, part-time receptionist, staring at me with wild eyes.
"Jamie, hi," I say softly, treating her like a feral cat.
"They postponed the wedding," she says, and I can't help but notice her fingers clutching the fabric of a heavily detailed dress. Her nails are scratching at the intricate beadwork on the bodice and I can just imagine the threads breaking and all those beads and faux pearls falling to the floor. I can even hear the gentle tings the beads will make when they hit the linoleum floor. I gulp.
"Please don't freak out in the back room. We've talked about this," I say, and gently remove her hand from the gown.
"Sorry," she mumbles, and we both know she doesn't mean the apology. "But, Evie, they postponed the wedding."
"You'll figure something out. You always do." I give her a smile and turn my back to look at another rack of dresses, which was my original purpose in coming into the back room in the first place. I have a finicky bride-to-be out there, unsure of what type of gown she wants. I pull an uncomplicated A-line that will go well with the simple wedding being planned.
"Do you hear yourself?" Jamie's voice cracks as she follows me through the maze of dresses. "It's like you don't even care."
I was foolish to think I could get away this easily.
I don't know that I've ever met someone like Jamie. She's great, don't get me wrong, but she is quite possibly the most anal-retentive person to ever exist, and she tends to get a little twitchy when things don't go the way she planned them. She's calmed down since I started working here five years ago, but she remains the most high-strung person that I have ever encountered. I don't know how such a tiny person can have so much energy. Some days, I expect to see little lines of electricity racing through her hair.
"I just don't know why you didn't tell me."
I stop, my hand on the door leading back into the boutique, as a chill rushes over me. This can't be about Rachel and Carter, can it? I slowly turn to face Jamie.
"Again?" I ask, dropping the gown a little as my shoulders sag.
"Again," she confirms, already plugging away at her phone.
I leave Jamie in the backroom, plaster a smile on my face, and finish my appointment. The bride chooses the sheath gown I brought out, and, on the way home, I plot out what stiff drink I want to imbibe.
Turns out, my best friend had the exact same idea.
"We've talked about using each other's keys for emergencies only," I say, unsurprised to find Rachel on my couch, a mostly empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and an episode of Gilmore Girls on the television.
"This was an emergency," she tells me as she comes to a sitting position. "I ran out of wine and couldn't drive to procure more."
Rachel and I became friends in college. We lived down the hall from each other our freshman year, shared a dorm room our sophomore year and, as a result, barely spoke to one another our junior year. By senior year, we were besties once again. When we found ourselves still in town after graduation, the apartment above mine came up for rent and Rachel managed to snap it up.
Granted, it's not like there was a long line for the apartment. The rent is cheap, but that's because it's a decrepit house split into apartments that sits next door to the rowdiest frat house in town. The number of beer cans in their recycle bin over the course of any given month could build the body of a 1978 Chevrolet Caprice. Don't even get me started on the beer bottles and condom wrappers that cover their yard.
"So, I talked to Jamie," I say, sliding off my heels and dropping my purse onto my sewing machine table. Rachel does her best to keep a straight face but, with almost two bottles of wine under her belt, she falters. Her blue eyes go wide and she flops her head against the back of the couch. "You cancelled the wedding again?"
"Postponed," she corrects me quickly.
In the three years that Rachel and Carter have been engaged, they have tried to get married three times. The first time they set a date, Carter was in a car wreck two days before the wedding and they had to cancel since he was still in the ICU and heavily medicated the day of the ceremony. The second time, the church they had booked got hit with a tornado the night before their nuptials.
And, with Rachel being laid off work last week and concerned over money and her uncertain future career-wise and with Carter still tied up in contracts with his book, this makes the lucky number three.
Thank God I convinced them to invest in wedding insurance when they started planning the second wedding.
After the tornado took out the location of their second ceremony, it was suggested that they just go somewhere and elope. They refused, wanting their families and friends there to witness them pledge their eternal love to one another. A courthouse wedding would never do; they want a spectacle.
It may have also been suggested that they just break the whole thing off since some higher power clearly doesn't seem to want them together.
They keep trekking on though, and that's why I love them as a couple. No matter what gets thrown at them, they stay together through it all and come out stronger for it.
I also love them as a couple because they haven't changed their minds on the colors for their wedding date. It's far too late to return the pale pink bridesmaid dress I purchased for their first ceremony. Granted, I've had to let the dress out just a tad over the years, but the sweetheart neckline makes up for my lack of boob and the pink hue of the dress allegedly makes my eyes pop. Rachel's words, not mine.
"I just dread hearing what everyone is going to say when we tell them we've postponed the wedding again," she mumbles into the wine bottle before taking another swig. "God. It'll probably just be everyone telling me that they lost a bet." She groans and drops her head against the armrest, defeated.
I take a seat next to her. She does not need to know that I had twenty bucks riding on her and Carter. Jamie made sure that I paid her before I left work.
"It'll be okay, Rach. The next time, it'll go perfect. There will be rainbows and unicorns. And Wayne Newton will perform at the reception." I smile at her.
She lets out a long sigh. "At least now you don't have to badger Grant to go with you to the wedding."
I force a tight-lipped smile, both at her believing that I would have to beg Grant to attend a wedding with me, and because I definitely would have to beg him.
Not that I blame him. I mean, we're casual. You don't go to a wedding with the person you're seeing casually, especially if there's not an open bar. Because, in Rachel's words, going to a wedding with someone means that you have to fall in love too. According to Rachel, that's an impossible feat for Grant since he lacks a heart. She's positive that she could drunkenly throw a rock and hit a better guy for me to sleep with than Grant.
Since she's so confident in her choices, I would ask her to find someone for me to actually date and attend weddings with without him having an anxiety attack, but the last time that happened … well, let's just say that no one can hold a grudge quite like Evie Duvall.
"Do you want to go grab dinner with Carter and me tonight?"
"Thanks, but no thanks. I have plans tonight."
I try to hide my guilt-ridden face behind a throw pillow, but it doesn't save me.
"Evie, no. Give Grant up already. He's a kid."
"He's twenty-four, and you only dislike him because he was a frat guy."
"He mooned our house!" she shouts.
Okay, to be fair, he did do that. Grant was, at one time, our next-door neighbor. One of the howler monkey frat boys. And I may have yelled at a group of them a little over a year ago for screeching the words to the school fight song at two in the morning on a Wednesday. In retaliation, I was mooned by one of them and, despite my rage, I had to admit that as far as views go while being mooned, it wasn't the worst. The next day, the guilty party came over to apologize. He made a joke about being an ass and told me his name was Grant and that he was a senior on the verge of graduation. To make amends for showing his ass, he offered to take me out for a drink. And, for the past year, he and I have been fooling around, much to my best friend's dismay. He no longer lives next door, but that doesn't matter to Rachel.
Author: Crystal Bowling
Chapter One
Just stay quiet, Evie.
I freeze in place, huddled behind a rack of wedding gowns in the backroom at Something New Bridal Boutique. I barely allow myself to breathe as the click-clack of kitten heels becomes more frantic and the seconds tick past. I know it's beyond pitiful that any self-respecting twenty-six-year-old should be hiding at her place of employment. I'm not proud of this moment in my life. And, let's be real, the jury is still out on the whole 'self respecting' bit.
The footsteps come to a stop and I let a long, slow breath. Whew. Another interaction successfully avoided. I am just about to move out from behind the row of ball gowns when the dresses part like the Red Sea and, instead of seeing the promise land, I see the panic-stricken face of Jamie Valentine, part-time event planner, part-time receptionist, staring at me with wild eyes.
"Jamie, hi," I say softly, treating her like a feral cat.
"They postponed the wedding," she says, and I can't help but notice her fingers clutching the fabric of a heavily detailed dress. Her nails are scratching at the intricate beadwork on the bodice and I can just imagine the threads breaking and all those beads and faux pearls falling to the floor. I can even hear the gentle tings the beads will make when they hit the linoleum floor. I gulp.
"Please don't freak out in the back room. We've talked about this," I say, and gently remove her hand from the gown.
"Sorry," she mumbles, and we both know she doesn't mean the apology. "But, Evie, they postponed the wedding."
"You'll figure something out. You always do." I give her a smile and turn my back to look at another rack of dresses, which was my original purpose in coming into the back room in the first place. I have a finicky bride-to-be out there, unsure of what type of gown she wants. I pull an uncomplicated A-line that will go well with the simple wedding being planned.
"Do you hear yourself?" Jamie's voice cracks as she follows me through the maze of dresses. "It's like you don't even care."
I was foolish to think I could get away this easily.
I don't know that I've ever met someone like Jamie. She's great, don't get me wrong, but she is quite possibly the most anal-retentive person to ever exist, and she tends to get a little twitchy when things don't go the way she planned them. She's calmed down since I started working here five years ago, but she remains the most high-strung person that I have ever encountered. I don't know how such a tiny person can have so much energy. Some days, I expect to see little lines of electricity racing through her hair.
"I just don't know why you didn't tell me."
I stop, my hand on the door leading back into the boutique, as a chill rushes over me. This can't be about Rachel and Carter, can it? I slowly turn to face Jamie.
"Again?" I ask, dropping the gown a little as my shoulders sag.
"Again," she confirms, already plugging away at her phone.
I leave Jamie in the backroom, plaster a smile on my face, and finish my appointment. The bride chooses the sheath gown I brought out, and, on the way home, I plot out what stiff drink I want to imbibe.
Turns out, my best friend had the exact same idea.
"We've talked about using each other's keys for emergencies only," I say, unsurprised to find Rachel on my couch, a mostly empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and an episode of Gilmore Girls on the television.
"This was an emergency," she tells me as she comes to a sitting position. "I ran out of wine and couldn't drive to procure more."
Rachel and I became friends in college. We lived down the hall from each other our freshman year, shared a dorm room our sophomore year and, as a result, barely spoke to one another our junior year. By senior year, we were besties once again. When we found ourselves still in town after graduation, the apartment above mine came up for rent and Rachel managed to snap it up.
Granted, it's not like there was a long line for the apartment. The rent is cheap, but that's because it's a decrepit house split into apartments that sits next door to the rowdiest frat house in town. The number of beer cans in their recycle bin over the course of any given month could build the body of a 1978 Chevrolet Caprice. Don't even get me started on the beer bottles and condom wrappers that cover their yard.
"So, I talked to Jamie," I say, sliding off my heels and dropping my purse onto my sewing machine table. Rachel does her best to keep a straight face but, with almost two bottles of wine under her belt, she falters. Her blue eyes go wide and she flops her head against the back of the couch. "You cancelled the wedding again?"
"Postponed," she corrects me quickly.
In the three years that Rachel and Carter have been engaged, they have tried to get married three times. The first time they set a date, Carter was in a car wreck two days before the wedding and they had to cancel since he was still in the ICU and heavily medicated the day of the ceremony. The second time, the church they had booked got hit with a tornado the night before their nuptials.
And, with Rachel being laid off work last week and concerned over money and her uncertain future career-wise and with Carter still tied up in contracts with his book, this makes the lucky number three.
Thank God I convinced them to invest in wedding insurance when they started planning the second wedding.
After the tornado took out the location of their second ceremony, it was suggested that they just go somewhere and elope. They refused, wanting their families and friends there to witness them pledge their eternal love to one another. A courthouse wedding would never do; they want a spectacle.
It may have also been suggested that they just break the whole thing off since some higher power clearly doesn't seem to want them together.
They keep trekking on though, and that's why I love them as a couple. No matter what gets thrown at them, they stay together through it all and come out stronger for it.
I also love them as a couple because they haven't changed their minds on the colors for their wedding date. It's far too late to return the pale pink bridesmaid dress I purchased for their first ceremony. Granted, I've had to let the dress out just a tad over the years, but the sweetheart neckline makes up for my lack of boob and the pink hue of the dress allegedly makes my eyes pop. Rachel's words, not mine.
"I just dread hearing what everyone is going to say when we tell them we've postponed the wedding again," she mumbles into the wine bottle before taking another swig. "God. It'll probably just be everyone telling me that they lost a bet." She groans and drops her head against the armrest, defeated.
I take a seat next to her. She does not need to know that I had twenty bucks riding on her and Carter. Jamie made sure that I paid her before I left work.
"It'll be okay, Rach. The next time, it'll go perfect. There will be rainbows and unicorns. And Wayne Newton will perform at the reception." I smile at her.
She lets out a long sigh. "At least now you don't have to badger Grant to go with you to the wedding."
I force a tight-lipped smile, both at her believing that I would have to beg Grant to attend a wedding with me, and because I definitely would have to beg him.
Not that I blame him. I mean, we're casual. You don't go to a wedding with the person you're seeing casually, especially if there's not an open bar. Because, in Rachel's words, going to a wedding with someone means that you have to fall in love too. According to Rachel, that's an impossible feat for Grant since he lacks a heart. She's positive that she could drunkenly throw a rock and hit a better guy for me to sleep with than Grant.
Since she's so confident in her choices, I would ask her to find someone for me to actually date and attend weddings with without him having an anxiety attack, but the last time that happened … well, let's just say that no one can hold a grudge quite like Evie Duvall.
"Do you want to go grab dinner with Carter and me tonight?"
"Thanks, but no thanks. I have plans tonight."
I try to hide my guilt-ridden face behind a throw pillow, but it doesn't save me.
"Evie, no. Give Grant up already. He's a kid."
"He's twenty-four, and you only dislike him because he was a frat guy."
"He mooned our house!" she shouts.
Okay, to be fair, he did do that. Grant was, at one time, our next-door neighbor. One of the howler monkey frat boys. And I may have yelled at a group of them a little over a year ago for screeching the words to the school fight song at two in the morning on a Wednesday. In retaliation, I was mooned by one of them and, despite my rage, I had to admit that as far as views go while being mooned, it wasn't the worst. The next day, the guilty party came over to apologize. He made a joke about being an ass and told me his name was Grant and that he was a senior on the verge of graduation. To make amends for showing his ass, he offered to take me out for a drink. And, for the past year, he and I have been fooling around, much to my best friend's dismay. He no longer lives next door, but that doesn't matter to Rachel.