18. Nick
NICK
“What do you think?” Emily shoved her phone under my nose.
“Oh. My. God.” I snatched the phone out of her hand and enlarged part of the photo. “This is exquisite .”
“Right?” She grinned and leaned over me to zoom in on the bodice of her wedding dress. “Check out the beadwork. It’s hard to see in this photo, but the crystals all have different-hued undertones and the effect is gorgeous under the light. Here, this video shows it better.”
“Stunning,” I said as the video played. The beads sparkled in a starburst of colors, shifting and transforming as the light hit them at different angles. “I love that you didn’t stick with the ‘safe’ choices and included warm tones. The reds and yellows add so much depth to the effect.”
“And you know the best part? It has pockets!”
“Love love love it.” I wanted to ask why the dress on her phone looked completely different from the photos she’d shown me a few weeks ago.
That dress had been sheath style with asymmetrical rouching angled toward her left hip and a sarong-style slit. The intricate beading, straight neckline, and off-the-shoulder loop sleeves added to the goddess-like energy of the gown.
Simple, elegant, and exactly what I would have expected Emily to choose.
The one I’d just looked at had the beading and angled rouching, but with a scoop neckline, butterfly sleeves, and giant ballgown skirt.
“Do you have any new ones of your reception dress?” I asked.
“We decided it was best if I didn’t waste money on a second dress.” She flipped through the gallery on her phone. “The skirt is detachable. This is what it’ll look like during the reception.”
The mermaid skirt was gorgeous on her, but the heavy material and restrictive style just didn’t hit the same as her original dress. None of what she was showing me tracked with what I knew of her tastes.
I flicked my gaze to her expression. Her tight smile and sad eyes told me everything I needed to know about how she felt about all these last-minute wardrobe changes.
“That silhouette was made for you,” I said carefully.
“Want to see the after-party dress?” she asked, her tone hopeful again.
“Is water wet? Of course I want to see the after-party dress!”
She giggled and angled the phone toward me.
This dress was exactly what I would have pictured on her with the deep V-neck that ended just north of her belly button. The actual dress was a shimmery silver, and the airy blush overlay softened the look and gave it a fairytale feel while still being edgy and making a statement.
But what really stood out for me was how happy Emily looked in it. In the other dresses she’d smiled and posed like the ex-model she was, but in this dress she radiated joy and literally glowed.
“Pardon my French, but holy shitballs.” I looked closer at the photo. “This. Is. Stunning. Ten out of ten. Five stars. I’m literally ob -sessed with this. The cut, the fit. The color choices. You’re a goddess.”
She beamed. “This was supposed to be my ceremony dress, but we ended up going in a different direction. I’m glad I still get to wear it for the after-party.”
“Why did you have to change to a different dress?” I asked.
“It’s not appropriate for a wedding or reception.”
“What’s not appropriate about it?” The dress was floor length and didn’t have any slits that I could see. The neckline exposed a lot of skin, but covered all the important parts.
“She might as well walk down the aisle naked.”
I looked over at Imogen, who was sitting on the couch across from us with her phone in one hand and glass of wine in the other.
She was a blonde version of Emily and nearly as pretty, but her resting bitch face and attitude to match took her from a solid eight to a hard three. Right now she was hovering around a negative seven and dropping every time she opened her mouth.
“It’s also extremely disrespectful to not wear white. Everyone knows the virginity train left the station long ago, but Malcolm deserves to have his bride wear a proper dress at his wedding.”
“But it’s their wedding.” I turned to Emily. “It’s your day too. This dress is perfection. There’s nothing inappropriate about it.”
“Like you’d know anything about what’s appropriate.” Imogen scoffed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked icily.
“Didn’t Evan find you working at a strip club? And you’re a baby with no life experience. It’s understandable you’d confuse lingerie with proper wedding attire.”
“A baby with no life experience? Excuse you?”
“You’re what, eighteen?”
“Twenty-two. Almost.”
“You’ll understand when you’ve lived a little and can’t rely on your ass to make money.” She smiled serenely and sipped her wine.
Emily’s hand on my thigh stopped the tirade I felt brewing under the surface.
“What about your shoes?” I asked, trying to bring back her earlier happiness. “And jewelry?”
“I’m still deciding on those.” She sipped her wine, her face blank.
I shot Imogen a glare as she scrolled on her phone. I hated people like her. If you didn’t like something, that was fine, but to deliberately make someone feel bad about something they were excited about was a dick move of epic proportions.
“How are my favorite ladies?” Malcolm asked, striding into the room. “Nick.” He didn’t spare me a glance.
“Bored out of my mind.” Imogen looked up from her phone.
“Fine.” Emily gave him a tight smile.
Malcolm motioned for Imogen to stand. “I need your help with something.” He glanced at Emily. “Excuse us.”
She nodded and took a long sip.
Evan and I had arrived at Emily’s house just over an hour ago for what was supposed to be a small family party.
Their parents had canceled ten minutes after we got there, and Malcolm’s brother, sister, and their families hadn’t bothered to show up.
His parents were out of the country, so they had an excuse, but it made me sad that she’d gone through all the work of planning something, only to have three quarters of the guests not show up.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
“Fine.” She put her glass down and grabbed her phone. “I need to check on a few things.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, thank you. I won’t be long.” She patted my shoulder. “Will you be alright?”
“Fine, but I may or may not need to use the little boys’ room…”
“Use my ensuite. The guest bath smells like someone emptied an entire can of Axe body spray in there.”
“Oof, instant flashbacks to walking down the hall in middle school and having to dodge the chem trails from all the dudes drenching themselves in that stuff in between classes.”
“Did you know Evan was a big fan?”
“Shut the front door. Mr. I only wear custom cologne went through an Axe phase?”
She grinned. “He went through a whole bottle of Recover in less than a year. He loved the stuff.”
I sat with that for a beat. “Thank you for trusting me with this information. I promise I’ll use it for good, and not evil.”
“He’s going to kill me for telling you.”
“I’m gonna kill Vlado for not telling me. I take it he was aware of this sacrilege?” I fake-gasped. “Was he part of it too? Did he also fall to the dark side?”
“He did.” She giggled. “But he realized the error of his ways when he asked Sarah Milton to go to the movies with him and she had an asthma attack in the car on the way there.”
“I’m weak.” I laughed. “That’s not how you want to make a girl breathless on a date.”
Her phone chimed and she peered at the screen. Her smile fell. “I need to answer this.” She stood. “Take a left at the door, then down the hall and through the arch. It’s the last door on the left.”
“Thanks.”
Following her directions, I made my way down the hall, through the arch, and to the last door.
I expected to find a bathroom, but instead, the door opened into a bedroom.
A bedroom with a big bed.
Where Malcom and Imogen were in a rather compromising position.
What the actual fuck?
I closed the door as quickly as I’d opened it and slowly backed away.
“Holy shit. Holy shit .”
Lemon face was cheating on Emily with Imogen? Imogen who was supposedly his bestie?
My shock melted into anger. I hated cheaters. Like ha-ted them. There was never an excuse to be unfaithful to someone. But to cheat on your fiancée weeks before the wedding was peak assholery.
Not only was Malcom cheating on Emily, who was worth a million of him, with his skanky side bitch during her party, they were doing it in her bed. Malcolm might live here, but this was Emily’s house.
How was I supposed to tell her? I hated lemon face with the intensity of a thousand burning suns and he was a giant dickweed to her, but she loved him. This would devastate her.
Evan. I needed Evan.
Wrenching my phone out of my pocket, I opened my text thread with Evan and scurried down the hall.
Nick : where are u??? its an emergency
The click of a door opening caught my attention as I was slipping my phone back in my pocket. The pounding of feet on the hall floor sent a rush of terror through me.
Malcom was racing toward me, his face red and his clothes askew.
“Shit!” I squeaked and tried to pivot toward the arch to get away into the main hall before he caught me.
My shoes looked amazing with my outfit, but they were definitely a fashion over function choice and had almost no grip. The nearly smooth soles slid over the polished floor. Arms windmilling, I managed to stay on my feet, but the lost time was enough for Malcolm to catch up to me.
“Ev—!” I tried to scream, but Malcolm grabbed the back of my shirt and jerked hard enough my collar cut into my throat, effectively silencing me as I tumbled back.
I landed on the hard floor, my ass and elbows smarting from the impact.
“You little shit,” Malcolm sneered.
“Let go,” I croaked, pulling my collar away from my throat so I could breathe.
“Mal?” Imogen’s voice filtered down the hall.
“Get back to Emily and distract her while I deal with this,” he said, his voice soft and almost sweet.
He’d never talked to Emily like that in all the times I’d seen them together. My blood boiled for her.