Never The Bride(51)

       
         
       
        

'It sounds wonderful, Abbie, but aren't you forgetting something?' Georgie added, pulling a face at me.

'What?' I asked, giving her a puzzled look. It wasn't like it was going to be a huge wedding. Neither of us really had any family to speak of and our circle of close friends was pretty small.

'The pact,' she reminded me with a tut. 'The thirteen bridesmaids from school, including that horror, Fi-Fi?'

'Oh no,' I groaned, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I didn't want a ridiculous big wedding, I didn't want sixteen bridesmaids, and I certainly didn't want that vicious tramp turning up and ruining my big day, the way she'd ruined the last two weddings. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

'What's wrong, baby?' Miller asked, tucking his phone away as he put his arm around me. After congratulations and hellos had been exchanged between him and the girls, I filled him in on my dilemma. 'I don't know what the problem is,' he shrugged. 'It's your day, you do what you want. Invite who you want, leave out the people you don't want, and if they don't like it or take offence, tough.'

'My thoughts exactly, Miller,' nodded Daphne, and I looked at Georgie in despair.

'Guys, you just don't get it,' she added, backing me up. 'All of these women have spent a lot of money on Abbie's dresses, no matter how hideous some of them were. It's a real slap in the face to not return the favour and leave them out of pocket.'

'Then it's simple. We're honest about only wanting a small affair,' Miller stated, 'and I'll pay for you all to have a luxury bachelorette party weekend somewhere abroad, and buy them all a designer dress for a night out. How does that sound?'

'Expensive,' I retorted, still worried about how they'd react.

'Not to me it's not. I'm sorry to be harsh, Abbie, but most of these girls aren't your real friends, Fi especially. I don't mind you inviting the ones you do like to the wedding as normal guests, but getting married is about us exchanging our vows in front of the people who are important to us, not some show-off, one-up-manship spectacle to outdo each other. Deal?'

'Well said,' called Daphne.

'Got to admit he has a point, Abbie. If they're going to take offence after an offer like that, it's no great loss if they cut you out of their lives, is it?' Georgie added.

'I guess not,' I conceded. 'Ok, we have a deal.'

'So, when are we doing this?' Daphne asked.

'Baby, you wanted soon. You tell me where and when and I'll make it happen,' Miller confirmed, kissing my temple. I bit my lower lip as I gazed up at him. 

'Well, we're already agreed on Dilbury church, but Dad always dreamed of me having an evening reception at Severn Manor at Christmas time. I'd love to do it, for him as well as for us,' I advised, my heart fluttering at the thought that after years of imagining, it might finally come true.

'The place I walked you home from in the snow, right? The night we had our first kiss?'

'Yes,' I nodded, touched that he remembered that important moment in our relationship.

'Then consider it done,' he nodded, kissing me again.

'You can't plan a wedding at Severn Manor just like that,' Georgie scoffed. 'It's one of the premier wedding venues in the UK. They're booked years in advance.'

'Then it's a good thing Abbie's marrying a man of means who can be very persuasive when he wants,' Miller grinned as he looked down at me. 'Money talks, and I don't care how much it costs, I'm giving my girl the wedding of her dreams this Christmas.'

'Miller,' I whispered, my eyes filling with tears.

'I want me a Miller,' Georgie sighed, sniffing loudly before blowing her nose as she started crying again.

'Well, if you'd just ring Veston back, maybe you would,' scolded Daphne as she dabbed her watery eyes.

'Weston,' Georgie and I chorused.

'Who's Weston?' Miller asked.

'We have a lot to catch up on,' I reminded him.

'We do,' he agreed. 'And lovely as it is to see you, ladies, I'd like to spend some time with my gorgeous fiancée, so if you'll excuse us, we can discuss plans when we come home this weekend.'

'Fiancée,' I repeated, giving him a dreamy look. I loved the sound of that word rolling off his tongue. He smiled and clutched my chin, then started to kiss me, softly at first, then with more urgency. My hands found their way up into his soft hair, tugging at it as my body ignited into a primal need to reconnect with him, and I let out a low moan of pleasure as he groaned.

'Ermmm, hello, still here, creepily watching and gagging,' called Georgie with a giggle.

'Good night, you two, see you soon,' murmured Miller as he reached over to terminate the call, then pulled me back into his arms.





Chapter Seventeen


The Dress

December



I WAS HAVING A flashback to the nightmare of Rachel's final dress-fitting day as I headed from the same changing room in Bridezilla down to the private viewing room, where Daphne, Georgie, Charlie, and Quinn were waiting patiently to see me in my dress. My stomach felt like a stormy sea, churning and wild. I was getting married next Saturday, and I was having serious regrets. Not about Miller, about this damn dress!

I'd tried on so many over the last few months, despairing of ever finding one that I loved, so I'd settled. And right now I felt like crying. Like most little girls, I'd dreamed of finding a handsome prince and wearing the perfect dress on the day I exchanged my vows with him. Well, I'd struck gold with Miller, but the dress  …  my God, the dress. What had I been thinking?

I stopped just short of the double doors to the room and looked down at myself. Maybe I was just getting overly anxious. After all, it was the biggest day of my life. It was an expensive designer creation, it couldn't be that bad, could it? I covered my face with my hands and tried to take some deep breaths. Georgie and Daphne had come on the first two dress shopping events, when I'd come away empty handed. Only Georgie had seen this one so far, as Daphne had had another viewing on her cottage and couldn't make it.



       
         
       
        

Georgie hadn't been overly enthused when I'd showed it to her a few weeks ago, but her head had been all over the place at the time dealing with something else, so I'd just taken her lack of enthusiasm with a pinch of salt. But now I was wondering if I should have paid heed to her muted response. There was no way I'd get another dress altered in time, and with my curves, it wasn't like an off-the-rack one would fit perfectly. I took a deep breath, gathered up the skirt, and walked into the room. All four women looked up at once.

Quinn choked mid-sip of her champagne, spraying a fine mist of it in front of her as she coughed and shook her head.

Daphne's hand flew to her chest as her jaw dropped, and she looked over the top of her glasses with an 'Oh my.'

Charlie dropped the canapé she was eating, her empty fingers remaining frozen by her parted lips.

And Georgie, well Georgie threw herself back on the horseshoe-shaped sofa as she roared with laughter and clutched her stomach.

'So, it's a big thumbs up for the dress, huh?' I stated sarcastically, as Maggie, the shop owner, helped me up onto the podium.

'Abbie, please tell me this is some sort of a joke?' Daphne exclaimed.

'It's even funnier that it's not,' Georgie howled, reaching up to wipe some tears from her cheeks.

'And I thought I was the one with the racy mind. Wow, Abbie, I  …  I  …  I  …  You know what, I actually have no words,' Charlie added, throwing her hands in the air.

'Wow, you Brits have a totally different style when it comes to wedding dresses,' observed Quinn in her strong American accent, looking from me to my friends, then back to me again. 'You look like you're going to that fancy dress thing you have, what do you call it? With the preacher in his collar?'

'Vicars and tarts,' I sighed, looking down at my overly enhanced cleavage and the plunging neckline. 'I'm going to be getting married looking like a tart.'

'Abbie, really, what were you thinking?' Daphne added with a shake of her head. 'That's not a tart's wedding dress, we need to upgrade it to a slapper's. I think I can see nipple through the sheer fabric!'

Charlie looked at Daphne wide-eyed as Georgie started snorting and hyperventilating in the corner, and I sank like a high-rise block of flats that had just been demolished, crumpling down into a heap on the podium.

'What's a slapper?' asked Quinn, looking bemused.

'Someone who wears a dress like that on a night out, let alone at a wedding. My God, Reverend Potter will have a heart attack, never mind the rest of the male guests,' Daphne stated, fanning herself with her hand as she shook her head. 'Abbie, please tell me this is a joke, that you have the real dress in the changing room.' 

'This is a highly expensive piece of couture,' Maggie stated, with more than a touch of offence in her tone as I put my head in my hands.

'Cowture more like, as it looks like a heap of crap,' Georgie howled. 'Oh, Abbie, did it seriously look this bad when I saw it last time?'

'You approved this?' Daphne gasped. 'Georgie Basset, what were you thinking? She'd have looked classier going up the aisle in a see-through bikini!'

'Is it really that awful?' I moaned, lifting my head. With only a week to go, I needed reassurance right now, not all of this negativity.

'I may not know what a slapper is, but I'm pretty sure that if the guests can see you need a wax on your hoo-hah, it's not a good thing,' Quinn shrugged.