With a passion.
'Ok, Annabelle?' I asked the bride, as I noticed her hands shaking when the lift started to glide upstairs.
'I'm terrified,' she admitted. 'Months and months of planning and it's here. I just want it all to be perfect, it has to be perfect.'
'Take a deep breath. It doesn't have to be perfect, because your wedding isn't the important thing, Annabelle. Your marriage is. Today is the day you start a new chapter with the love of your life. That's what you need to focus on, all the days you'll get to spend together now, not just this one day.'
'Oh, Abbie, that's so sweet, and so typically you,' she smiled, reaching out to take my hand. 'But you've never been engaged. You've no idea how much my parents have spent on this event. The rest we can muddle through, but this has to be perfect,' she repeated, letting go of my hand as she faced the doors, the lift settling into position. Well, that told me, didn't it? Was I stupid to think that the relationship was more important than the day? The more time I spent with some of my ex-school friends, the more shallow they seemed to become. I was so grateful that Georgie was my best friend. She'd never be like some of these girls.
'Right, Juliet, you're first, then Rachel, followed by Abbie, then Fi-Fi. Keep close, a step or two behind. Annabelle and her father will bring up the rear. Remember, shoulders back, heads up, and smile,' Martine ordered as she shuffled us into position.
The doors parted, sunlight filling the space as we were presented with the most breathtaking view of Manhattan. Polished marble steps led from the lift down to the roof terrace, where rows and rows of guests were seated under billowing muslin sails, protecting them from the glare of a relentless New York summer sun. The swimming pool, a crystalline turquoise, shimmered in front of them, cutting the roof terrace in half. A narrow wooden bridge spanned it, leading to a lush green lawn on the other side, surrounded by potted bay trees interspersed with black and white rose bushes. A muslin gazebo stood at the top, with a celebrant waiting with the groom and his best man and ushers, while a string quartet played in the background. Very classy, very Annabelle.
Juliet stepped forwards, gliding down the steps with poise, and we all followed suit. I kept my eyes firmly ahead of me, not wanting to be distracted by Miller, who was sitting somewhere in the congregation. Was I pathetic to be missing him already, I wondered. The sound of our high heels clip-clopped along the marble floor, then dulled as one by one, we stepped onto the wooden bridge. I took a deep breath, clutching my white rose bouquet tightly. It was hard to breathe out here, it was so hot and humid. Miller had warned me that New York suffered extremes of temperature in summer and winter, but I'd really had no idea. What I'd give to just go and change into my bikini, then dive head first into that pool and frolic with Miller and some cocktails.
'What the – ' I gasped as I went to step forwards and was yanked backwards by my dress tightening around my chest. I staggered, flashbacks to Rachel's wedding rushing into my mind, forcing me to cling to my bouquet for dear life instead of flinging it. I tried to find my centre of gravity, but without my arms to balance me, I was useless. I felt myself tipping, Annabelle's last words of "It has to be perfect" ringing in my ears, along with that damn annoying song of the same title.
I could have sworn I heard Fi-Fi's squeaky snigger as my wish for a swim came true. I landed on my side in the cold water with a shrill scream, then quickly went under, the weight of my dress and small train pulling me down. I finally let go of my bouquet and opened my eyes, then struck out for the surface as I heard a muffled noise and saw the water churn above me. The bridge was just visible, with distorted faces peering down at me, as I felt someone's arms wrap around my waist. We shot to the surface, both gasping for air.
'Are you ok, baby?' came Miller's concerned voice as he let go of me.
'What the hell just happened?' I spluttered, treading water as I tried to wipe the water and hair out of my eyes.
'I think she deliberately stepped on your dress,' Miller panted, scrubbing his face as he bobbed in front of me.
'That bitc – ' He cut me off by clamping his hand over my mouth.
'We'll deal with her later. We'd better get out, we're causing a bit of a scene,' he whispered. I nodded, but my eyes darted over to Fi-Fi's far-too-gleeful ones while Martine urged everyone to keep moving, announcing the wedding must go on. 'Come on, let's swim down to the shallow end and we can try and sneak out with minimal disruption.'
'Why do weddings with you always end up with us cold and wet?' I asked as we started to climb the steps. Miller offered me his hand as my dress hung heavy around me. Most of the crowd was focussed on us instead of the soon-to-be happy couple.
'I'd rather a wet wedding with you than a dry one with anyone else, Abbie,' Miller grinned. He was still in his suit trousers, but he'd obviously managed to strip off his jacket before he'd dived in after me, as his white shirt was clinging to his chest and toned stomach.
'And me you, Mr. Darcy,' I whispered, eyeing him up. He shook his head and chuckled, then gasped and grabbed both of my breasts as the laughter and chatter from the guests at the back of the congregation grew louder. 'Oh no,' I groaned.
As if I thought my humiliation at ruining Annabelle's perfect day couldn't get any worse, the weight of the water had pulled my dress down as I'd stepped out of the pool and both of my tits were out, flashing everyone whose eyes were on us.
'Quick! You know I love them, but pop them back in,' Miller laughed.
'I swear I'm going to kill her. I'm going to push her over the edge of the building. I'm going to bottle Sumo's farts and send it to her as a new designer perfume. I'm going to pop her over-inflated tits with one of Daphne's knitting needles,' I ranted, as I dragged my dress back up and scooped my breasts into the cups. 'I'll make her walk barefoot on sharp gravel. I'll make her rue the day she – '
Miller cut me off again by yanking me to him and kissing me until I sagged against him in a happy, relaxed heap. He then swooped down to scoop me up into his arms.
'You can exact your revenge later. Right now I want you out of this wet dress.'
'Oh, hello,' I giggled.
'That wasn't what I was thinking, Abbie Carter,' he grinned. 'I can't have you slipping and breaking anything, not when we have another week of sight-seeing to do,' he advised.
'Come, come,' Martine ordered as she scurried up to us, holding Miller's suit jacket. 'Let's get you out of here. Bernard will be waiting for you when you exit the elevator to escort you to a vacant suite so you don't drip water all over your own. You can shower, then relax in the bathrobes with some complimentary champagne and truffles. We'll wash, dry, and press your clothes within the hour and he'll return them to you. Abbie, I'll send up a beautician from the spa to redo your hair and make-up. You'll miss the wedding itself, but should make it back in time for the champagne reception before the sit-down meal.'
'I'm so sorry,' I grimaced as I gave her an apologetic smile.
'Pfft,' she huffed with a flick of her wrist as we climbed the steps to the lift. 'Trust me, as wedding disasters go, this is nothing. Anyway, don't blame yourself. I was watching, this was no accident.'
'She did step on my dress! I'm so going to be having words with her later,' I hissed. A hiss seemed appropriate as visuals of a catfight with her filled my head. She was well overdue being put in her place.
'Trust me, I will be having words with her later,' Martine stated, with a scary, stern schoolmistress face.
'Me too,' added a furious-looking Miller.
'And I will let the bride know that this catastrophe was not your fault,' she added, softening her face to give me a smile as she ushered us into the lift and pressed for it to go down.
'Catastrophe,' I groaned loudly as the doors slid shut. 'Annabelle's going to kill me, but on the plus side, I don't think I'll be asked to be a bridesmaid again, not after two total disasters.'
'And on another plus side, this dress isn't running, so you won't be returning with black, blotchy skin.'
'Oh, God, can you imagine?' I laughed, burying my face in his wet chest. 'That would be even worse than my multi-coloured one.'
Martine was true to her word, leaving me marvelling at the efficiency of The Domville. Bernard showed us to a suite opposite the lift and straight into the bathroom, where piles of fluffy white towels were waiting, along with some toiletries. By the time we'd emerged from the shower, a bottle of champagne on ice was waiting for us in the lounge, with chocolate-dipped strawberries coated in edible gold leaf. There was also a note to say that one of the girls from the spa would arrive soon and our clothes would be returned within the hour.
'I could get used to this,' I grinned, as Miller pulled me down onto his lap and fed me a strawberry.
'I didn't think you were that sort of girl,' he said, biting down on one of his own.
'I'm a girl full stop. Show me any girl that doesn't like being pampered from time to time.'
'I meant all this. The luxury, the money, the glitz of it all. Beautiful as you looked in that dress, and you really did, deep down you're Abbie Carter, simple jeans-and-tee country girl. Aren't you?'