Chapter 19
Bear
I stand in front of the store Evie told me to go to, and check I'm at the right place.
The address is correct, though it doesn't look like a bridal shop.
A few mannequins wearing interesting, colorful outfits stand in the window display, below a gold and black painted sign on the glass that reads BELOVED.
Behind them, a black screen blocks the view from outside.
The main door is tinted, except for the smaller version of the same logo and the three words printed underneath— BELOVED - come on in.
Like the owner wants you to know they sell clothes, but you go into a little world of your own as soon as you cross the door.
Arching an eyebrow, I open the door and do just that. A little bell announces my arrival, and two faces turn my way, none of them Pen.
"Welcome!" one of them says. "You must be the fiancé. I was told you'd come, when I talked to your bride's friend on the phone."
I approach and offer my hand. "Yes, thank you. I'm Leon."
"The Bear, I think, from the way your fiancée talks about you?"
I grin. "Just Bear, thanks."
"And I am Jacqueline, but call me Jack. This is Maeve, my spouse and business partner. She's a delight and a whizz at the sewing machine."
I shake Maeve's hand, too.
"While Jack is the creative director, you could say." She laughs. "They designed the dress your bride picked."
Maeve makes a gesture to show me the way and I follow.
"Pen is right through there." Maeve points at a door at the other end of the room.
"She's almost done," Jack adds. "We'll give you some space to chat, okay?"
I nod. The couple walks away and into a backroom. A deep breath later, and I'm ready to face whatever is going on with Pen. I go through the door, expecting to find a hall with changing rooms— only to freeze on the spot.
Pen stands on a small pedestal, wearing nothing but a deep blue lingerie set, and deep blue stilettos.
Her long hair falls down her back, the waterfall of it driving my eyes down her back, down a wonderfully round ass, and lower onto thick thighs.
A cute smattering of dimples give texture to her skin, while silvery marks on her skin shine differently under the hundred lightbulbs around us.
The door lets out a mild bang as it closes. I stop breathing. I can't react.
"Bear?" she asks, eyes wide open. "What are you doing here?"
She stares at me from the reflection in front of us, where a large mirror showcases my best friend in all her glory.
The space is smaller than I imagined, or the situation is suddenly making everything feel tiny— like we were crammed into minimal space without notice.
Still, there's enough room to have several dresses lining one side of the mirror in their hooks, while several lingerie sets perch from hooks in their own hangers.
Three sets of sexy bras and panties on display, but my eyes go back to the one Pen wears… and I die.
The mirror shows me things I should not be staring at. Her full breasts hugged by lace, a soft, gorgeous belly I could kiss, lined with more of those silvery stretch marks, and two layers of… panties… over her…
"Oh my God, Bear!"
Her expression gets my attention. I startle.
"Pen— I—"
"Leon Karlsen! What—"
She tries to turn, but loses her balance.
"Fuck— these heels!" she manages, before she cuts herself off.
Some part of my brain has processed what's going on even when I don't think I have. She's trying to make it off the pedestal but her ankles give out.
I snap into action, and jump to catch her before she can fall. On autopilot, I bring her closer to me— it will be easier to keep her upright this way. One hand goes to her ribcage, the other to her hip.
"Watch it," I say.
"Watch it?!" Shock and irritation go into her voice. "You should watch it. What are you doing here?"
"Evie told me you needed help."
"Did she also tell you to make yourself comfortable and walk right into the changing room where I'd be trying on lingerie?"
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I've never seen Pen in her underwear, but I didn't even consider that might happen by walking in.
The shop owners were so casual about it, and every store I've ever been in had several changing rooms, not just a single large one.
I didn't think twice about it. Knowing we're engaged, they probably assumed we're comfortable with each other this way— but we're not.
Sure, I have seen Pen in a bikini, I've seen the same expanse of skin, the same marks, the same cute dimples, and shouldn't that be the same?
The way my heart hammers against my breastbone, and the way my blood changes direction, are evidence it's not.
Pen's eyes widen. "Did Evie tell you to cop a feel, too, Leon?"
Her voice comes out controlled, now. I recognize the tone. It's her 'I'm trying hard not to lose it' tone.
I frown. Am I copping a feel? In my head, what I was really doing was…
But yeah. I am. The hand on her ribcage is actually close to her breast, and my thumb arches around and underneath the cup, touching lace.
The other is right on the curve of her hip where her flesh turns to her ass, and my fingers are splayed wide, like I'm trying to cover as much territory as possible.
I have never touched Pen so intimately.
"I am not— I was—" I try.
Whatever part of my brain is in control of me right now is definitely playing tricks. I'm aiming to move my hands away to safer geography… but it doesn't take a lot of imagination to feel like it's a caress.
"Leon."
This time, my name on her lips succeeds at bringing me back to reality. I pull my hands away like I've been caught in a criminal act and I'd like to claim innocence.
"Sorry," I say. "I was only trying to break your fall."
Pen puts her hands on my chest and finds her balance again. Her weight is on me as she kicks off her heels, and if bad luck is still the name of the game, she will feel just how hard my heart beats right under her palm.
Her hands leave me. "Give me the robe, will you?"
She stands barefoot now, and points to a chair behind me. I grab the white silk piece of clothing she wants, hand it to her, and turn around.
"Isn't it too late for that?" she asks, a hint of dark humor in her voice.
"Look, I'm trying, okay? I didn't think this through."
But looking away will hide my hard-on until I have it under control.
"We were both shocked by it, I think," she says.
"I'm sorry. You know I usually try to be more careful. I should have thought things through and announced myself just in case—"
"Just— give me a sec. And don't turn around. I changed my mind. I'm getting back into my own clothes now."
Cool, cool. Meaning she's getting naked behind me.
I cross my arms and close my eyes for good measure.
Fuck. All that does is fill my head with images that aren't helping.
Now I don't only have to contend with the memory lighting up my head, of Pen in blue lingerie standing on a raised pedestal, like she's modeling her new set for me, her future husband— dammit, her fiancé.
Her best friend. I'm her best friend, who should be doing his best to erase the vision before it gets permanently etched in my mind.
Especially since it's too late for my body.
The places where we touched, the caress of skin to skin, the curves I got to cradle… they are burned on my hands already.
GET IT TOGETHER, LEON KARLSEN.
I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. "Sorry. I can wait outside."
Has my therapist taught me any distraction techniques? I don't think she has, because I'm supposed to be so good at compartmentalizing. Ha. She's never been so wrong. If I was, I would be able to make my dick forget what we saw, and make my brain delete the files.
"There's no point now." She doesn't sound too annoyed anymore, but factual.
"Then I'll undress to my boxers and make it even."
"I don't think this is going to be fixed with both of us in our underwear at the same time, to be honest."
Thank God. I was counting on this being her response. Just something else to carry in my conscience.
I need to change the topic, stat.
"I'm sorry, Pen. Evie said you were having trouble finding your dress, and that they couldn't come keep you company, so I should. That's all I had in mind, I promise."
Pen and I have always managed to keep certain things private. Hard to believe that, in twenty years, we intuitively knew how to never cross the line in the sand. The one where platonic feelings might get harpooned and dragged into dangerous, unchartered oceans.
Pen sighs. "I guess that's what Evie said when she told me she was about to meddle."
"To be fair, she didn't tell me to get a peek. Or to cop a feel."
"That was all your idea?" she laughs.
"That was an accident. I just heard you needed company and that's all I had in mind."
The sound of a zipper reaches me. It helps to focus on the little noises around me— the soft whispers of fabric moving against fabric, the way her breathing changes as she moves and works on getting dressed, the burr of the fan I didn't realize ran in a corner.
"I was just trying to get to you," I say. "I thought you were not doing well."
She sighs. "That's actually sweet, I'll give you that. You can turn around now."
I do, only to drop into one of the armchairs next to me. Pen hangs her robe from one of the hooks, right next to where the blue lingerie set waits.
I drag my eyes to Pen. "Why didn't you call me?"
She's fully clothed now, wearing a familiar outfit. Jeans and a green crop top. Just Pen, my buddy, once again. Almost. Enough, until further notice.
She purses her lips and sits on the round pedestal in the middle of the small room. "I didn't want to ruin the surprise for you."
Both my eyebrows shoot up. "Was I… going to be seeing you in lingerie for some reason?"
The thought burns through my brain. If we've been careful for so long, it's for a good reason. We can't be doing things like this, if we're meant to keep it platonic.
That's why the new memories in the back of my head are so dangerous.
"Of course not," she replies. "The lingerie was something the girls said I should do for myself. Just for fun. But I didn't want you to see me in my dress before the wedding."
I frown. She understands the question without me having to say it.
She gives me a self-deprecating smile. "I thought that even though this isn't your dream wedding, and you're not marrying the love of your life, you're romantic enough that you would want to keep this tradition. You know, not to tempt fate or something like that."
My chest softens, because this is how Pen is. She doesn't care for romance, but she cares that I care.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. It brings us closer, until we're gazing into each other's eyes.
"I didn't think of that, to be honest." I give her a smile. "But thank you. You were right. Now I'd rather be surprised."
"My dress is very pretty, Bear." She mirrors my grin. "It's gorgeous, even. And Jack and Maeve promised they'll dye it whatever color I want after, so I can wear it again."
"That's amazing."
"Because we're getting married, and I'm wearing a beautiful dress that's five times more expensive than I budgeted for, and I can't imagine not wearing it again."
"I'm sure the dress is worth every cent, especially if it's making you feel happy to wear it for our wedding."
"Remember our conversation by the swing last time? When we told my parents we're getting married. You told me to imagine what it would be like to marry you."
I nod. It's strange, this feeling that shows up in my belly, to hear her repeat my own words back at me. At the time, I felt conviction. Hope. The need to get her on board with the plan. Now, they feel more possessive than I ever consciously meant them. Yet they still ring true.
"We are getting married, Penélope." I smirk and point at the diamond and blue stones on her left hand. "You are wearing my grandmother's ring. This is happening."
"I know. Isn't it the darnedest thing? We're saying yes to this, but it's the first time you've seen me in lingerie, and I've never seen you in your boxers."
"I'll undress right now," I offer again.
Mostly because my boner is finally gone, and I know she will laugh it off. She does.
"Oh, Bear. Just— let's focus on the wedding. It's happening so soon. I'll be wearing a cute dress and you'll look incredibly handsome, I'm sure. We'll make it a special evening. For you, for me, my parents, our friends…"
She's asking me to keep to our plan, and forget what just happened.
It'll be difficult, but I'll try my best. I'll compartmentalize it as hard as I can, if it means Pen will feel better about the whole thing, and we can keep being best friends.
"Of course, Pen." I take her hand and kiss the back of it. "I'll do anything to make it a special day for both of us. Even if it's not the wedding I thought I'd have, it's you and me. There's nothing more important than that."
It's what I tell myself as we walk away from the store. I repeat it in my head when I'm having a hard time falling asleep, and avoiding the memories of Pen in blue lingerie. And I make it into a prayer every day until the day of our wedding.