Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Aspen
“Good, isn’t it?” Hazel asks as she and Dakota watch me take a bit of the strawberry-rhubarb-stuffed croissant that Marlowe’s debuting this week. I nod enthusiastically as I chew my bite.
“She is literally magic. It’s unfair. I wish I could bake half as well as her.” I grin at her as she makes her way over to us.
“Here’s a cake menu. Types of cake. Icings. Fillings. Then we can talk about what you want it to look like. I won’t be able to do anything too fancy since I don’t have much time for a trial run, but if you have something you really want, you let me know, okay?” Marlowe hands me the cake menu.
“Oh no. Nothing fancy. It’s only a small wedding. I just want to pick something out I think he’d like is all.” I shake my head.
“All right, well, here is an order form and a pen.” Marlowe slides them across the table to me.
“He would like anything you got him.” Dakota leans back.
“He would,” Hazel agrees. “You’re all he talks about when I see him around the barns. You and Fallon.”
“Well, it’s new, you know. To be in love like this again.” I force a small smile, feeling guilty for telling little white lies to women who have been so kind to me since I moved back home to Purgatory Falls.
“I know how that is.” Hazel grins at me.
It’s not entirely a lie. I do feel things for him again. My heart races. My stomach flips. There’s plenty of whole-body flutters. I just don’t trust them or him quite yet. I need time we don’t have. So I’m jumping into this wedding, but my heart is going to be a little slower to catch up.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take on his little challenge and impress him with a cake though. I’ve got to be able to come up with something.
“Are we struggling to pick one?” I look up to see Dakota watching me browse the menu. “That’s an intense look.”
“He challenged me to pick one I thought he might like. I always thought he liked vanilla, but he said he only liked it because that’s what I made for him. Which I only made because he liked it.” I purse my lips in irritation as I take another pass over the menu.
“Bishop definitely doesn’t strike me as the vanilla type,” Dakota muses.
“Dakota!” Hazel flashes her a look of admonishment.
“No, that’s a good point. And maybe the angle I can take on this.” I tap my finger to my lips. He doesn’t like vanilla, but he likes me. “What am I if I’m cake?”
Dakota and Hazel both burst into laughter, and Marlowe wanders back over to us with iced lattes and pastries.
“What’s so funny?” Marlowe asks, taking a seat with us.
“Aspen wants to know what kind of cake she would be.” Dakota tries to take a sip of her latte but fails in the process.
“Hey! I’m just trying to outsmart this man on his little challenge,” I say defensively.
“Chocolate. With a layer of fresh raspberry mousse filling and chocolate buttercream. We could top it with some fresh raspberries too.” Marlowe taps her finger on the menu.
“Well, that sounds amazing, but how is that me exactly?”
“Rich. Decadent. And a little tart.” Marlowe smirks.
“Um, okay. As long as you’re letting me steal that.” I grin in return.
“Absolutely. That’s what I’m here for,” Marlowe states matter-of-factly. “But do you think he’ll like it?”
“That man would like anything she does.” Hazel looks me over like I’m too anxious about this.
“I think he would. I’ve seen him eat all of those things, and it sounds good. Plus, groom’s cakes are usually something more chocolate flavored, right?”
“Yes, or just something less vanilla.”
“Just like he requested,” Dakota pipes in.
“All right. Let’s do it.”
“Do you want something more traditional as well? I could make a second cake if you want. As long as they’re both smaller.”
“No. This is perfect. We can have some other desserts off the Avarice menu if people want them, but the cake should be something for him.”
“Okay, that makes my life easy then. What else are you all up to today?” Marlowe asks, taking a few sips off her own latte as she waits for us to answer.
“Bristol’s after this. I wanted to show Aspen her latest business expansion.” Dakota grins.
“And then out to look for dresses,” I add. “One for me and one for Fallon.”
“Are you having a bridesmaid or two?” Hazel asks.
“No. All my friends are back in Boston, and I fear they’d try to stage an intervention if they thought I was getting married again so soon. Doubly so if I tried to put them in bridesmaid dresses.”
“Well, we’re happy to be them in spirit. Help you get prepped for everything,” Dakota offers.
“I would love that. I need all the help I can get.” I nod. “Did you pick a wedding dress out yet?”
“No. We haven’t even managed to pick a date. Trying to find something where everyone is available is not going well.” Dakota lets out a sigh of frustration.
“Same,” Hazel agrees. “I still say we just do ours on the same day to avoid a little of the frustration.”
“I love the idea. Grant, however, wants a massive production.”
“I can talk to Grant if you need me to.” It’s my turn to offer help.
“Could you? Just a little hint here or there. I know he wants to do everything for me, and I love him for it, but I just want to be married to him. I don’t care how that happens. You know?” Dakota’s eyes widen, and she nods her head.
“Of course, and I understand completely. I love my brother, and he wants everything to be perfect. But sometimes done is better than perfect,” I agree.
“Exactly.” Dakota seems relieved that one of the siblings in this family gets it.
When we get to Bristol’s antique shop, Many Moons, I’m struck by the selection of antiques she has.
They’re tucked into every nook and cranny of the store, and my eyes don’t know where to go first. But apparently, this isn’t the main reason we’re here, a thing I realize when Dakota nods for me to follow her behind a beaded curtain that looks like it could be an antique itself.
The room we step into is much darker than the main store floor, and quite a bit smaller.
It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to be able to see what I’m looking at, and I blink when it comes into full view.
There are several rows of shelving lit with practical lighting, displaying a surprising array of vibrators and sex toys, another with whips and handcuffs, and another still with things like edible underwear and sexy dice games.
I turn the corner, and there’s another section with lube and a cute little library of books with titles that promise to help you change your sex life, improve your confidence, or find the fun in sex again at any age.
“Isn’t this amazing for such a small space?” Dakota beams with pride over her friend, and I can’t help but smile back.
“I love it.”
“She’s trying to make it more accessible and a little less taboo for the women of Purgatory Falls, and I, for one, commend her on the effort. I’m not sure what the church ladies will do when they find it though. I imagine pearls will be clutched.” Hazel picks up one of the books and reads the back.
“You’d be surprised about some of the church ladies.” Bristol grins as she walks in to meet us.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” I mumble, and the women all look to me. I shrug. “Usually, it’s the quiet ones.”
“Or Levi ending up with a nun,” Dakota muses.
“Fair point.” Hazel nods along with our assessments.
“All right. My vote is, we each pick out something for Aspen, and quietly tell Bristol so she can keep it a secret as she packs it up while we go look at antiques. Then Aspen and Bishop can open them on their wedding night,” Dakota suggests.
“Oh, I already know what I’m picking.” Hazel sets the book back on the shelf and turns a corner.
“Me too.” Dakota flashes a mischievous grin.
“Then I guess I’ll be out looking at antiques in the meantime. I’ll have to come back though. This is great, Bristol! Hopefully, it gets so popular that you need to expand your footprint.”
“I’m sure getting approval for that would be a fun time at a city council meeting.” Bristol laughs.
After we leave Many Moons, we head over to the boutique dress shop.
There’s already a prom dress in the window, but it’s bracketed by two beautiful white wedding dresses.
Each more gorgeous than the last, a theme that continues once we go inside.
Fallon appears from behind a rack of dresses, pulling out a black one and holding it up for me.
“I’ve already found a couple I think would look good on you.” The small smile on her face has me hopeful that this isn’t going to be a complete disaster. “She has them in the dressing room for you to try on.”
“Are they all black?” It’s my favorite color, but I suspect Bishop wouldn’t love the symbolism.
“No, there are a few color ones, but I didn’t pick any white ones yet.”
“I think we might be able to skip the white ones.” Technically, I shouldn’t have worn it for the first wedding, particularly since Fallon was there.
“Maybe a champagne color? Or a pale pink?” Hazel looks down the rack.
“Or a red to set off the color in your eyes?” Dakota pulls a gorgeous red ball gown off the rack.
“Okay, but I think you should try that one on. That looks so pretty with your hair and skin color.”
“And Grant would die if you wore red.” Hazel beams. “Which would make it more fun.”
“I honestly think he’d secretly love it,” I add when I see the wheels start to turn in Dakota’s mind.
“He calls you Hellfire. Wouldn’t a red dress make sense?” Hazel cheers her on.
“That’s gorgeous.” Fallon chimes in, too, when she comes back after adding another dress to the dressing room for me to try on.
“All right. All right. I’ll try it on. But I still maintain Aspen should consider it too.”
“You’ll pull it off far better than I could.” I shake my head. It’s gorgeous, and if I were still Dakota’s age, I might consider it. But I want something more understated and serious.
“Hazel has to find something to try on as well.”
“I might have it.” She pulls a white one from the rack, with a corseted bodice and a free-flowing, billowy skirt with a slit up the side. It looks exactly like the kind of thing she would wear. “Worth trying on anyway.” She shrugs.
“All right. Let’s hit the dressing rooms.” I jerk my chin in that direction, and we all head to the back.
There’s a big middle section with couches and a sprawling wall of mirrors with a platform in the center, one that makes the perfect stage while we all take turns in the gowns and dresses we’ve managed to amass in our respective changing rooms.
“Oh, I love that,” I say as I press my fingers to my lips when Fallon takes a turn in a deep-purple tea-length dress. “It’s beautiful on you, and it makes your eyes pop.”
“I think I might love it too.”
“Like or love? Bishop won’t be happy unless it’s something you love.”
“Love, I think.” She smooths the skirt down a bit. “If they could take it in a little here and there.” She points to spots she wants altered.
“We’ll have to see if they have time. It’s short notice.”
“Your turn.” She urges me back into another change.
I left the best for last. It’s black, and I’m not sure how he’ll take it.
But he damn well knows I don’t want to wear white.
Not at a second wedding with our teenage daughter there.
White or something more classically wedding-coded would feel fake.
Like part of the show we’re trying to put on for everyone else, and I’d rather do something for him if he’s buying it.
Bishop’s always liked me in black, and I don’t suppose the black boots and black leather miniskirt that he might prefer would fly with Grandma Bradford, so hopefully this is the next best thing.
The second I step out in it and see everyone’s faces, I know I’ve made the right choice.
“That’s perfect!” Fallon claps her hands together at the dress she picked out.
“I love it.” Dakota grins.
“Same. It’s stunning on you, Aspen. I know it’s unconventional, but then, so is everything else about you two. It works.”
“I love it too.” I twirl on the platform, and the black lace undulates over the floor. “Let’s do it. But I’m blaming all of you if he hates it.”
“He won’t,” Hazel reassures me.
“I need help with the zipper. I barely got it up on my own.” I turn my back to them, and Dakota helps me start the zipper so I can finish it in the dressing room.
When I close the door behind me, I take one last peek in the small mirror inside.
I’d pictured what dress I would wear if he ever asked me a million times in my head when I was younger.
The dress had taken on a dozen different forms over the years.
But I’ve never had one in particular I was attached to.
This one feels right. It feels like us. The best chance of there being one again, anyway.