Chapter 20
Fact or Fiction?
Fireball makes fast friends.
Addison
“Her wedding date is when?” The bridal attendant gapes at Jo, who tells the woman our December date for the second time.
“We can’t get in dresses in less than six weeks.”
“Then we’ll just have to buy something off the rack,” Jo responds cheerily. Definitely not ready to call this powerhouse “Mom,”
but “Jo” suits her nicely to me.
The attendant eyes me up and down. “We may not have her size.”
“Ahem,” Cozy barks loudly, stepping up to the tiny bridal attendant and eyeing her with the fire of a thousand suns. “Why
don’t you and I go for a little walk?”
The attendant looks confused as Cozy escorts her away from us, and Dakota and Trista exchange a knowing look before clinking
their complimentary champagne flutes together.
“This is fun,” Dakota says with a smile, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot excitedly.
“I haven’t even tried anything on yet,” I state, feeling like a total fish out of water.
She shrugs. “It’s already fun.”
I frown at that because it seems so easy and natural for these ladies to be pampered in this plush bridal store.
I never even went to my high school prom.
I just went to the parties afterward. The awkwardness of asking my dad for money for a dress that he’d have to see me in . . . I shuddered at the thought.
As an adult, I’ve learned how to shop, but I get almost everything online just to avoid the uncomfortable dressing room moments.
Like this moment right here.
Who knows what Cozy is talking to that woman about right now. I take a deep breath in and lower myself onto the open furry
white armchair next to Trista. The only way I’m going to survive this is by leaning on the women around me, even if it kills
me to do so. “Trista, where did you buy your wedding dress? You looked so beautiful in Mexico.”
“Oh, they definitely had to order my size in.” She giggles and takes a sip. “These types of places don’t carry sample sizes
that would fit me.”
“Should I be worried?” I ask, biting my lip. “My proportions are odd. I’m all hips and flat chested and my shoulders are super
broad. I should have been a linebacker, I swear.”
“Those shoulders are going to look beautiful in whatever you pick out.” Jo sits down on the armrest of my chair, hitting me
with her wide, hopeful eyes. “Luke says you want an outdoor service?”
“Yeah, is that crazy?” I ask, glancing at Dakota and Trista and then back to Johanna. “I don’t want to be difficult.”
“Not at all,” Jo peals back. “It’s your special day. You should get exactly what you want. I am already looking at these gorgeous
outdoor tents with heaters for a small reception.”
“I heard Wyatt talking to Luke this morning about using our house as backup if there’s a storm,” Trista says, turning my attention
to her. “We’re totally good with it. I’ll put my breast pump parts away and everything.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” I reply gratefully, amazed at how this is all coming together.
Some snow has already fallen the past week up on the peak, dusting everything in a sparkly white blanket.
It’s not enough to completely cover the ground, but by the wedding, I expect it will be a white wonderland.
“Fletcher Mountain in December is beautiful,” Trista says as if reading my thoughts. “It’s like existing on a cloud. Last
year was the best Christmas of my whole life up there.”
“You were also drunk on newborn baby and a brand-new rock on your finger.” Dakota laughs knowingly.
“That is true.” Trista shoots me a sheepish smile and then glances at my hand. “I see you have some new hardware as well.”
I blush as I hold the ring up to my chest, not wanting any more attention on me, but it’s pointless because all the ladies
squeal and grab my hand for a closer look.
“So unique,” Dakota says with a sigh. “Great work, Luke.”
I frown as I look down at it. “Yeah, he’s good like that, isn’t he?”
“All this planning is making me wish I would have done our wedding on the mountain too. But Wyatt wasn’t in such a damn hurry.”
“I’m glad you guys got married in Mexico,” Dakota says, raising her hand. “Or who knows if Calder and I ever would have happened.”
“You two would have happened,” Johanna adds with a secretive smile. “He’s been waiting a long time for you.”
Dakota’s smile falls as Jo hits her with that stunning remark. “Why do you say that?”
“A mother knows these things.” She taps her nose at her future daughter-in-law because the writing seems to be on the wall
for Dakota and Calder. I haven’t been around them a lot as a couple, but the few times I’ve seen them this past week on the
mountain, they seem ridiculously happy . . . even when they’re bickering.
This whole conversation makes me understand even more why Luke was up for helping me with this marriage situation. The epic love stories he’s surrounded by with his family are a lot to live up to.
“Oh, Addison,” Jo says, clapping her hands excitedly. “I’m almost done with the invitations already. Do you want to see them
or just be surprised? Luke told me you love surprises.”
“I do love surprises.” I smile softly at the fact that Luke is out there in the streets trying to protect me from all this
wedding stuff. He really is such a good friend.
“Very well, then. I shall keep it all to myself for now. Along with all my reception ideas. Oh, this is going to be so hard,
but fun!” Jo squeals and walks away to thumb through her binder, clearly deep in planning mode.
“That woman loves a project,” Trista says, pointing to her mother-in-law. “Just wait until you give her a grandbaby and you’ll
really see everything she can do.”
The mention of having a child causes a pit to form in my stomach because . . . I never intend to have a baby. I’ll never be
a mom, or even have a husband . . . not in the real sense anyways. Guilt niggles with that thought because Jo will want Luke
to have a baby. To give her more grandchildren. All these women probably want nieces and nephews. And nothing close to that
will ever happen between me and Luke.
I’m a total fraud.
Allowing them to plan my wedding, gush over my ring, help with my dress fitting. What am I doing here? This is so wrong of
me, isn’t it?
Then again, Luke and I are legally married.
Does the fact that I’m not sleeping with him make our marriage less real?
And kids aren’t a necessity for all committed couples.
There are all sorts of marriages out there, right?
By all accounts, things between me and Luke are going well.
Maybe there’s an argument that could be made for friends getting married and leaving the romance out of it.
We’re certainly making it work so far. And if that’s what I have to tell myself to stop feeling guilty for bringing everyone here today, then so be it.
“Here we are!” Cozy announces her return, appearing before us with a new bridal attendant whose hands are full of dresses
as she hangs them up on the nearby rod.
“Which one is the lucky bride?” the new gal asks, already displaying a better attitude than the last one.
I stand and raise my hand while taking a sip of my champagne. The woman crosses her arms and elbows Cozy. “I see exactly what
you mean.”
“Right?” Cozy confirms. “You could bounce a rhinestone off that ass.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning around to look at my butt in the nearby mirror.
“Definitely fitted,” the attendant confirms. “If that’s what she wants. I pulled lots of options. And some incredible faux
fur shrugs.”
“She’s going to look so hot,” Dakota confirms.
“Like Snow White on the mountain with that raven hair,” Trista adds, pointing at me.
“Did you pull something to showcase her lovely shoulders? The reception will be heated,” Johanna asks, walking over to touch
my arms and gaze at my reflection in the mirror.
“Can you take off your sweater, Addison?” Cozy asks, tilting her head to look at me. “We’re trying to objectify you.”
Trista and Dakota sputter out laughing and Johanna cuts them a look. “No more free champagne for those two.”
Their faces fall and I take a moment to admire the women in front of me. All uniquely shaped and confident in their own skin,
which only makes me feel more self-assured in mine. Perhaps this is what I missed out on my whole life not having girlfriends,
a hype squad.
And as I look at Johanna gazing at me in the mirror with contemplative eyes, I wonder if this is what my mom would be like . . . if things were different.
I don’t have long to ponder that painful thought because I’m swept up into a dressing room to try on a mountain of dresses
with ladies who make me forget about this wedding being fake, because they’re all so perfectly real.
“She said yes to the dress!” Dakota calls out to Pearl Street Pub in Boulder as we clink our glasses together in unison.
“Quiet down,” I shush her with a giggle while shooting apologetic glances to the other patrons at the bar.
“Sorry.” Dakota laughs as she reaches up to tie her blond hair into a ponytail. “I just thought they should know.”
“The strangers in the bar that we’ve never met do not care about my wedding dress status.” I eye her skeptically.
“You never know.” Dakota tuts before taking a sip of her Moscow mule.
“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Cozy says, stumbling over to us as she fists four shots of Fireball she just ordered at the
bar. Her short dark hair falls in front of her face and she shakes her head to push it back. “Since we didn’t get to throw
you a bachelorette party, an impromptu bar crawl on Pearl Street is the next best thing.”
“Okay, but why do we have to keep having Fireball?” I ask, sniffing the cinnamon whiskey and wrinkling my nose.
“’Cause it’s like a breath mint and it’s delicious!” Cozy answers with a gleeful smile.
Trista holds her shot glass up and yells, “To another woman on Fletcher Mountain!”
“Hear! Hear!” Dakota confirms, lifting her glass to her lips and shooting her shot along with the rest of us.