Epilogue
"Nope! Nope. Nope. Nope." Marlow spins around, feverishly shaking her head. "This is ridiculous. I can't wear this. I can't."
Andy groans. "We've been here for hours , Marlow! Just pick a fucking dress already!"
"I like it!" Pippa exclaims, chugging her seventh mimosa of the day. "Makes you look—" She hiccups. "Pretty."
I facepalm. Andy's right. She needs to pick a dress today . I never thought Marlow would be a Bridezilla, but here we are, two weeks away from the wedding, and the girl still can't pick a flipping dress!
"You said you wanted classic , Mar." I attempt to keep a cheery disposition despite the fact that time's a-ticking and I'm losing my patience with the girl. "This dress is the definition of classic." I offer her an encouraging smile. "You look like a princess."
Marlow glowers at me and I swear the ice in my glass gets colder. "I look like a fucking toilet bowl cleaner."
Andy snorts. "Oh my God, I kind of see it."
I smack Andy's arm, shooting her an unimpressed glare. "Not helping!"
Andy rolls her eyes. "You picked it..."
"This is all your fault!" Marlow huffs, jumping off the platform.
She hikes up the ballgown, her converse stomping on the carpet as she marches toward me.
"You're the one who was like—" She scrunches her face, putting on a horrible southern accent that offends all of my ancestors.
" Have a big wedding, Marlow. Don't elope to Vegas, Marlow.
It's gonna be the most magical day of your whole life, Marlow!
" She deadpans. "I could've been married by now, but nooo.
.. I had to go and listen to your stupid ass and now—" She sniffles and begins weeping.
Oh, dear Lord, I've broken the sweet little thing.
"And now I'm wearing a dress with fifty layers of tulle! "
"Good job, Blondie," Andy scowls. "You've made her cry."
"Do you want to cry too, Andrea ?" I ask, perking up a combative brow. "We both know I could take you."
Andy glares at me. "I was drunk and off my game that night, Savannah ."
Pippa snorts, juice shooting out her nose. "I almost forgot about that!" She leans over, grinning at me. "Remind me how it felt to sock this bitch in the face. I want to live vicariously again."
"Therapeutic," I say, proud of myself. Ironically, the night I punched Andy in the jaw for calling me a bimbo for the umpteenth time, is when we finally started becoming friends. Andy glares at me. "Oh get over it, Andy, that months ago."
"I'll get you," she mutters, sulking into her seat. "Best beware."
"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots,” I jeer, turning my attention to Marlow who's on the brink of losing it completely.
"Mar, look at me." She sniffles, wiping a tear off her cheek.
"If you don't want to wear a ballgown, that's totally fine but you're gonna have to choose something, okay?
Heck, at this point, wear whatever you want.
You wanna wear a trash bag? That's fine by me but pick something. Anything!"
Marlow bites her lip, gaze floating to the rack of dresses she vehemently discarded weeks ago. "I mean... I did kind of like the sparkly one with the slit?—"
"Yes!" I stand up. Hope is here! I run over to the rack and flip through the dozens of dresses she said hell no to until I find the one possible maybe. "Here! Try it on again! I think this might be the one?—"
The door to Vision in White suddenly swings open. "Oh, fuck me!" Ryder throws his head back and lets out a boisterous laugh. "Jesus Christ, Mar, what the hell are you wearing?!"
"I'm going to kill you," I grunt, shooting Ryder fiery daggers as Marlow breaks down in tears again and rushes to the restroom. "Andy, you best get your man out of here before I do something I might regret."
"Let's go, dumbass." Andy hops up and grabs Ryder by the arm. "Next time, just don't speak, okay ?
"What? I was just —" Ryder doesn't finish his sentence as Andy drags him out of the store.
"This is a nightmare," I grumble, checking the time. "Pip?"
Pippa blinks, looking up from her eighth drink. "Yup?"
"I gotta go check on the studio quickly." I grab my jacket from the hanger. "Can you see if she's—" I nod at the washroom. Poor girl. "Just get her to stop crying, will ya?"
Pippa salutes me. "I'm on it!"
"Thanks, I'll be back soon."
Folding my jacket over my arm, I sprint down the street toward the studio.
It better be done by now. One more mishap and I'm going to have to fire my contractors.
It's been four months now, and I've had to push back the launch date twice .
I get that they want it to be perfect, but it was perfect two configurations ago!
I can see why it took so long to renovate The Hog last year. He's a dang closeted perfectionist.
As I turn onto the main street, I tilt my head back and smile at the pretty pink sign.
Little Darlin' Dance Studio . Jesse insisted on LED lighting even though it cost a pretty penny more than regular old vinyl.
I tried to argue, but arguing with Jesse is like talking to a brick wall. A burly, beautiful brick wall.
"Jesse?" I call out, stepping into the studio. Gratitude flows through me as I sweep my finger along the front desk, admiring the pristine white walls, grey flooring, and all the personal touches Jesse and my brother spent months perfecting. "Beau? Anyone here? Jesse?"
"Looks good, huh?" I jump as Beau creeps up behind me, his overalls covered with hot pink paint. "Bathrooms are all done. Just don't go touching the walls or anything. Still wet."
"This is amazing," I gush, leaning against my brother's shoulder. "You guys went above and beyond, truly. It's incredible."
Beau kisses the top of my head. "Only the best for our Savvy girl." He pauses, clearing his throat. "How's my bride-to-be? She pick a dress yet?"
I wince. "We're getting there."
"She's not gonna bolt, is she?" he asks nervously. "This ain't like cold feet or something, is it?"
"Marlow's not going anywhere," I reassure him. "The fact she cares so much is a good thing. I kind of wish that she cared less to be honest."
"Hey, you're the one who?—"
"I know!" I exclaim, crossing my arms. "It's fine. Once she picks the dress, it should be smooth sailing from here on out."
"I trust you, Sav," Beau says, checking his phone as it vibrates. "I gotta get going. Billy needs me to?—"
"I don't wanna know," I say, waving him off. That's the rule. Don't ask. Don't tell. This way, if another FBI agent approaches me, I don't have to lie about SOS dealings. "Go do what you gotta do."
"I'll see you and JP tonight," Beau says, heading out the door.
"Where is Jesse?" I ask. "He told me he'd be here all day."
Beau grins. "Check the alley. He was working on something out there. "
"Great." I roll my eyes. "Maybe he's re-sanding the barre... again ."
Beau chuckles. "See ya, Sav."
"Bye!"
Clicking my tongue, I head through the studio toward the back exit. I swear if this man found another thing to paint or sand or polish...
"Finally!" Jesse throws his hand up in the air as I step into the alley. "Did you crawl here or something?"
I smirk at him. "A queen is never late?—"
"No." He shakes his head. "We're done with that, Sav. You can't Princess Diaries your way out of everything."
I snort. "I still can't believe you watched that with me."
He gives me a playful scowl. "Yeah, me neither."
But actually, I can believe it. Jesse would do anything for me. And he has. He encouraged me to finish school, supported me when I didn't have a job and invested his own money to help me open a business. He's not just my boyfriend. He's my partner. My teammate. The cornbread to my brisket.
"Why are you out here?" I ask, looking around the alley, surprised to find no tools sprawled about. "Beau said y'all are finished, no?"
Jesse nods behind the trash bin. "Come here, princess. I wanna show you something."
"If it's another dead raccoon, I'm gonna—" My jaw hits the pavement as we round the corner, and a pastel pink Harley comes into view. "Oh... My... God..." I snap my head at him, eyes wide with excitement. "For me? "
He blinks. "No, princess, the pink motorcycle is for me . Do you like it? I think it matches my nails."
Snorting, I roll my eyes and give him a tiny shove. "Oh, stop it."
"Of course, it's for you, ya dink." Jesse fishes a set of keys out of his pocket, dangling them in front of me. He wiggles his brows. "Wanna take her for a spin?"
"Uh— yeah!" I take the keys from him and we approach the bike. "I can't believe you did this. I have never seen a pink Harley before. Probably broke your little heart to paint it, didn't it?"
"I might've shed a tear or two," Jesse says as I straddle the bike. He smiles down at me, his gaze soft and warm, like the gooey center of a cinnamon bun. He's the sweetest little thing. "But I knew you'd love it."
"Thank you," I whisper, my heart full of love. I nod at the back of the bike. "Well? What're you waiting for? Hop on."
Jesse's smile fades. "You want me to—" He shakes his head. "Nope. No way."
I feign a pout. "Oh, come on, daddy . Please."
He glares at me. "You're never gonna let that go, will you?"
"Maybe one day," I coo as he reluctantly hops on the bike, grunting as he wraps his protective arms around my waist. "Until then—" I kick off the ground. "Deal with it."
Jesse kisses the top of my head, his lips marking me as his own.“Whatever you say, darlin'.'"
END