Chapter 25
I suppose the downside to having a creative brain – especially being a novelist – is that you can’t reserve your skills exclusively for fiction. Oh no, the ability to fantasise, dramatise and catastrophise can and does spill into real life.
I must have a thousand theories about what could potentially be going on with Cordelia.
She’s obviously got a secret, she’s clearly keeping it from Andy, and she’s very uneasy when JJ or I bring it up.
The wedding seems to factor in, somehow, but anyone can tell she wants to marry Andy, and he does seem really happy.
It’s just the speed of it, I suppose, and secrets – it makes you wonder if maybe she has an ulterior motive, or if she’s in some sort of trouble?
But the show must go on, so today Cordelia and I are meeting with a lady who runs a bridal boutique.
Given how quickly we’re having to get this show on the road (and now I’m once again wondering why, why, why?) it means Cordelia is going to have to wear a wedding dress off the rack and hope one fits.
It also means my bridesmaid dress will be similar – yep, now Cordelia gets to tell me what to wear.
‘Well,’ Cordelia says brightly, clapping her hands together once, ‘this is all very last-minute, but honestly I think that’s when you make the best decisions. No time to overthink.’
I can’t say I’ve made a decision without overthinking it, but sure, we’ll go with that.
Anya, the lady from the bridal boutique, is immaculately dressed, and she speaks so softly and smoothly – she’s clearly used to bridal meltdowns.
‘We’ll keep it simple,’ she says. ‘Ready-to-wear options, tailored where needed. We’ll find something beautiful for you both.’
‘Sounds fab!’ Cordelia replies. ‘Doesn’t it, Whitney?’
‘Fab,’ I echo.
Anya starts unzipping garment bags, revealing rows of dresses in creams, ivories and various other shades of white – because it turns out there are loads.
They’re all beautiful. Effortlessly elegant.
Cordelia would look amazing in any one of them.
Funny though, I can’t imagine any of them looking right on me.
I feel the same way about the bridesmaid dresses – I suppose it’s because I’m not here in a typical capacity.
Normally, I’d be close to the bride, excited for the wedding, over the moon to be a bridesmaid.
Instead I’m here as a favour to Andy, my best friend, and I still feel so confused over my feelings for him.
I just can’t shake the feeling that we should have given things a go sooner, that he could have been the one for me, under my nose all this time.
Cordelia advances first, gliding towards the rack like she’s floating on a cloud. She pulls one dress free and holds it up against herself, already admiring the way it would look.
‘I think I want something timeless,’ she says. ‘Nothing too fussy. Classic – think the royal family. I always loved Lady Di’s dress.’
Oh, yeah, definitely wedding/marriage/couple goals right there.
The designer nods.
‘Of course.’
As Cordelia tries on her first royal gown, I take my phone from my pocket again and carry on investigating – or trying to.
I’ve tried to google Cordelia. I’ve been through her socials.
No public posts of friends of any meaning.
No tagged photos from years ago. No schools or universities listed.
No casual mentions from friends or family congratulating her.
Everything just feels so basic; like, she has an online presence, sure, but nothing present, nothing past. Nothing for me to go off.
Cordelia emerges in her dress. It looks nice, simple – not very royal, but surely she doesn’t really want that?
‘So,’ I say lightly, because I am apparently incapable of leaving things alone, ‘is anyone from your family able to come?’
Cordelia stiffens, ever so slightly, but I clock it.
‘Oh,’ she says, smoothing the fabric of a dress that is already perfect. ‘No. It’ll just be me.’
‘Really?’ I push gently. ‘That’s such a shame. Not even like an old school friend or a cousin drafted in from somewhere?’
She laughs, too quickly.
‘No. It’s just… complicated.’
The designer glances between us, clearly sensing something, then tactfully pretends to do something with a coat hanger.
‘Andy’s family are lovely, though,’ Cordelia continues. ‘So welcoming.’
‘They are,’ I agree. ‘And your friends? It’s a shame you’re having to settle for me as a bridesmaid, when we’ve only just met…’
She pauses.
‘I don’t really have a big group or one close person,’ she says. ‘I move around a lot. For work.’
There’s a beat of silence. Then Cordelia tilts her head, studying me in a way that makes my stomach drop.
‘What about you?’ she asks. ‘You and Andy go way back.’
‘Yes,’ I say carefully. ‘We do.’
She picks up another dress, runs her fingers over the lace.
‘I sometimes wonder what that must be like. Knowing someone for so long,’ she continues.
‘It’s great,’ I say. ‘You can always rely on old friends.’
‘Hmm,’ she replies, making eye contact with me in the mirror. ‘Were you ever… more than that?’
‘No,’ I say quickly. Too quickly again. ‘Just friends.’
Cordelia’s eyes flick to my face, then away.
‘Not even a drunk kiss here, a wild night there…?’
I laugh awkwardly.
‘God, no. Andy’s like family to me.’
She smiles, but her eyes don’t get the memo, and so it just looks menacing.
She can tell something is up, that I’m not being totally honest with her.
I guess, technically, Andy asked me out before we were friends, and I’m feeling whatever I’m feeling now, but telling her either of those facts isn’t going to make her happy, is it?
‘Funny. Because sometimes I catch him looking at you like…’
She stops herself.
‘Like what?’ I ask, my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.
She shrugs.
‘Like he’s… remembering something.’
Anya clears her throat.
‘Perhaps we should try on some dresses?’ she suggests.
Cordelia turns sharply.
‘Yes. Let’s.’
She gestures towards a dress I hadn’t really looked at properly.
‘That one. For Whit,’ she tells Anya.
As far as bridesmaid dresses go, they’re all the same, those multiway ones that reckon they can mummify any shape or size in several different styles. The only thing to choose is the colour.
‘The blue,’ Cordelia confirms. ‘With the light blue bolero, to cover her arms.’
I mean, where to begin? With the implication that something is wrong with my arms, or the fact she’s dressing me like Elsa from Frozen for a summer wedding?
‘It’s a bit cool, maybe, for my colouring,’ I say tactfully. ‘Warmer tones tend to—’
‘I want blue,’ Cordelia informs me. ‘It’s my wedding and I want you in blue. I thought the bridesmaid’s job was to please the bride and you’re, what? Trying to outshine me?’
‘That’s not what I was—’
‘It’s Andy and me getting married,’ she reminds me. ‘We decide. When you get married, you can call the shots then. Okay?’
One shot I would call, if I ever do get married, is absolutely no reciprocating bridesmaid duties. Cordelia is the last person I would want by my side.
‘Perhaps we could—’ Anya starts, but Cordelia cuts her off too.
‘The blue,’ Cordelia tells her. ‘Thank you.’
I try on the dress in silence, staring at my reflection and telling myself this doesn’t matter.
It’s just a dress. It’s just one day. It’s not that bad.
It is very much Elsa when she sings ‘Let It Go’ but that’s what I need to do: I need to let this go and make sure no one suggests putting my long blonde hair in a side plait.
I leave Cordelia in the Rosewood hotel room where she’s trying on dresses – and where she’ll sleep the night before the wedding – and head back to the lodge. I bump into Andy almost straight away.
‘Whit,’ he says, smiling. ‘Hello.’
He’s standing outside one of the rooms, suit bag slung over his shoulder. He looks good. Sharp. Handsome. Like the version of Andy I used to imagine he might grow into one day. Getting married oddly suits him. It’s like I’m seeing him as a man now, rather than my dorky friend.
‘You look…’ I trail off, because what am I actually going to say?
‘Like I’m about to get married?’ he finishes, amused.
‘Yes,’ I say softly. ‘Exactly like that.’
‘Want a peek?’ he asks, unzipping the bag, showing me his suit and tie.
I peer inside and it hits me. He’s getting married. Actually getting married, and I’m going to lose my friend – and to Cordelia too. She’s going to be a nightmare. I’m not going to want to be around her. I feel like I’m going to burst into tears…
‘You know, Whit, I was thinking…’ Andy starts.
‘Well, here you are, darlin’,’ Jake says, interrupting us.
I turn and see him approaching, relaxed, confident, pleased to see me even.
He slips an arm around my waist, easy and natural.
‘I was wonderin’ where my girl disappeared to.’
Andy’s gaze drops to Jake’s hand and my heart skips a beat.
‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it,’ Andy tells us. ‘So much to do.’
‘Yeah, okay, we’ll talk later,’ I reply.
‘You okay?’ Jake asks, like he knows something is up. ‘You looked like you needed an interruption.’
‘I did, thanks,’ I reply. ‘It’s a good job you noticed.’
‘If you can read horses, you can read anyone,’ he jokes. ‘Actually, horses might be easier.’
I laugh.
‘Just a weird moment,’ I tell him. ‘Cordelia is making me wear a dress I don’t like.’
‘You’ll look beautiful in anything,’ he assures me.
‘Wait until you see it,’ I reply.
‘It’s the bachelor and bachelorette parties tonight, right?’ he checks.
‘Erm, not exactly,’ I reply. ‘Let’s go get ready, I’ll fill you in.’
‘Sounds fun,’ he replies.
‘Oh, I’m not sure about that…’