Chapter 6
Her hands still shook three hours later.
As Sierra drove towards downtown Santa Ynez, she gripped the steering wheel and took deep breaths to try and calm her anxiety. Her thoughts, fractured and confused, circled pointlessly. Her heart beat frantically in her chest.
She wasn’t even sure what had pushed her to that edge: Seeing Ty or holding Benji’s hand? Both? The fact that she had been one second away from running from Ty before Benji’s hand had closed over hers?
When the urge to call Markus and tell him that she got caught up with work rose, Sierra pushed it down, knowing that it would have been a weak excuse.
She needed to show up for Nina. She would show up for Nina, a woman who not only loved her brother and Poppy fiercely and was about to become family, but who had also literally saved Mav’s life.
‘You’re fine,’ Sierra told herself, as she looked at her own face in the rear-view mirror. ‘You’re fine. You’re fine.’ She took several deep breaths. ‘You’re fine.’
She pulled into the small parking lot in front of Gifford’s Bridal Boutique and turned off her car.
She’d called the boutique ahead of time and reserved the entire store by shamelessly name-dropping ‘Nina Keller’.
For a long moment she just sat there, staring at the phantom brides in the gorgeous gowns behind the big glass windows.
Memories rose, pulling that suffocating grief up with them. Sierra slammed one hand on the steering wheel. She ground her teeth, reminded herself, ‘You’re fine,’ one last time before grabbing her purse and climbing out of the car.
Gifford’s hadn’t changed. Inside, soft creams provided a neutral backsplash for the white dresses.
The carpeted floor was pristinely vacuumed.
The thermostat set to a cosy seventy. Classical music drifted through from hidden speakers.
Dozens of dresses hung along the walls in plastic protective covers.
In the far corner of the room, a single pedestal rose out of the carpet.
Behind it, a trio of huge mirrors, gilded in gold, provided the bride-to-be with every angle of her dress.
In front of it sat a plush, three-person sofa for guests, and Markus, Nina and Poppy were already there, the adults holding flutes of champagne while Poppy held a glass of what Sierra assumed was apple juice.
Sierra hurried forward. ‘Sorry I’m a few minutes late.’
Nina waved away her apology. ‘How did the Sinclaire wedding go?’
‘Good. One minor emergency that was easily fixed,’ she lied.
An assistant, dressed in black, came forward with a flute of champagne, which Sierra took with murmured thanks.
‘Let me know if you need anything else.’ The assistant cast one adoring look in Nina’s direction before moving back to the racks of dresses.
‘Sometimes I forget that you’re actually quite famous,’ Sierra commented.
Nina smiled. ‘Me too.’
Before she’d been assaulted and had decided to take a year off from acting, Nina had been Hollywood’s Golden Girl.
In fact, if the lovestruck looks Nina got every time she was in public were anything to go by, she still was.
Sierra only forgot sometimes because at home, Nina wasn’t that glamorous, mysterious woman from the tabloids.
She was just … Nina. She wore Maverick’s T-shirts, came home from the barn each night covered in horsehair, and cuddled Poppy when the five-year-old couldn’t sleep.
Even then, and although she somehow looked chic and fashionable, Nina was dressed casually in jeans with slashed knees, a Pulp Fiction graphic tee, and white sneakers.
‘All right, ladies – and gentleman.’ Aimee, the owner of Gifford’s, came out from the back room with three dresses draped over her arm.
She hadn’t changed. Aimee was a reed-thin, French woman.
Everything about her oozed perfection – her porcelain skin, her blonde hair, slicked back into a ballerina bun, her precise manicure.
‘Based on our phone call, Miss Keller, I’ve reserved some dresses that I think you’ll like.
’ Although Sierra tried to keep out of the way, Aimee saw her and paused.
She broke into a huge grin. ‘Fleur de la Vie.’
Sierra nodded. ‘That’s right.’
Sierra couldn’t fault the woman’s memory. She had bought the Fleur de la Vie the day after Benji had proposed.
She had been so excited that she had called up her best friend, Jade, and together they had gone to look at wedding dresses.
She’d never intended to buy anything, only browse for inspiration and styles, but when she’d come to Gifford’s, Aimee had insisted she try on the Fleur de la Vie – even with her hugely pregnant belly.
Sierra had immediately known the dress would be hers. She’d bought it intending to get it altered once they’d settled on a date and the baby had arrived.
And it had hung in her closet ever since.
‘How did your dress look on the day?’ the boutique owner demanded. Turning to the others, she informed them, ‘The Fleur de la Vie was made for her. Thin straps, slit down the front, embroidered wildflowers climbing up the skirts from the hem, fading out closer to the waist. C’était magnifique!’
Sierra merely nodded past the emotion in her throat. ‘It looked perfect,’ she lied. Taking the first dress from Aimee, she held it up for Nina’s inspection. ‘Let’s start with this one.’
Perhaps sensing Sierra’s distress, Nina popped up without further prompting. ‘Exciting!’ she exclaimed. Taking Aimee in hand, she gently redirected the woman. ‘Tell me what we have here?’
As Aimee dived into detailed explanations of each dress she’d selected and Nina listened intently, Markus stood and came to Sierra. ‘You okay, doll?’
‘Golden.’
‘Liar.’ He nudged her with his elbow. ‘But I got you.’
This time, Sierra’s smile was genuine. ‘Ditto.’ She linked her fingers with his, and unable to acknowledge all those emotions, redirected with, ‘Let’s go cheer our girl on.’
‘Hell yeah.’
They reclaimed their seats on the sofa while Nina headed to the dressing room.
Poppy slipped onto Sierra’s lap and leaned back against her chest. Sierra took a deep, calming breath.
And even though she reminded herself, You’re fine, that swirling anxiety never left.
It circled in her chest, winding her breath tighter and tighter so that it took everything she had left not to get up and run outside.
Still, when Nina came out wearing the first dress, Sierra put her glass down so that she could clap her hands. ‘Beautiful!’
‘Wow, Neens!’ Poppy exclaimed.
The dress was nothing but a sleek column of ivory silk ending in a thick halter neck strap. Nina’s pixie-like frame wore it better than any model could have. She ran both her hands down her waist. ‘It’s so light. I feel naked.’ She laughed happily.
Aimee helped her up onto the pedestal. ‘Not very many women can wear this,’ she observed. ‘It shows every flaw. But you are lucky to have so few lumps,’ she commented matter-of-factly, her French accent oozing approval.
‘I love it,’ Nina said, but her tone was hesitant.
‘But?’ Sierra prompted.
Nina met her eyes in the mirror. ‘I want Poppy and me to match. It’s kinda our thing.’ She looked apologetically at Aimee. ‘My stepdaughter and I want to wear the same – or, at least, similar dresses.’ She indicated to Poppy.
‘Oh, yes. You mentioned on the phone.’ Aimee clapped her hands twice in rapid succession.
The assistant appeared out of nowhere. ‘Where are the dresses we set aside for the little girl?’
As the assistant ran to fetch them, Aimee turned back to Nina. ‘They are not exact. They are made for flower girls. But we can find a similar style, make some alterations using the same lace.’ She sighed sadly. ‘But not this one. This one is’ – she waved one hand – ‘too sexy for the little girl.’
‘Thank you. Um, there’s one other thing …’
‘Oui?’
‘I’m getting married in cowgirl boots.’
Sierra had to bite back her grin at the flabbergasted look on Aimee’s face. And when the boutique owner said, ‘I see,’ she choked on a laugh.
Next to her, Markus giggled, which set Poppy off so that the three of them were cackling audibly.
The moment Aimee went off to find a few more options, Nina turned to face them, her own lips fighting a smile. ‘I don’t think she liked that.’
Sierra shook her head. ‘Definitely not. But it’s not her wedding.’
‘And you’re Nina Keller,’ Markus reminded her. ‘You could tell her you wanted a dress made out of red meat and she’d make it work.’
‘Lady Gaga already did that,’ Sierra reminded him.
‘She did. I love her.’ Markus sighed. He picked up Nina’s champagne flute and stood to pass it to her.
Sierra was watching Nina, so she saw the way she hesitated before taking the flute. And once it was in her hand, she didn’t sip it, only held it.
Slowly, Nina raised her eyes to Sierra’s.
The question and the answer passed between them silently. Sierra’s eyes filled, but it was Nina who started crying first.
‘When?’ Sierra rasped.
‘We found out the day after Mav got home,’ Nina whispered.
Markus looked back and forth between them. ‘What the hell did I miss?’
Sierra pushed to her feet. She blocked all her own ugly emotions as she walked to Nina.
She tried not to think about the fact that if her baby hadn’t died, there would have been one more little girl between Poppy and Mav and Nina’s baby.
There would have been a new generation of kids, running riot on Hunt Ranch like Mav and Benji and Sierra once had.
Taking the flute from her almost-sister-in-law’s hand, she pointedly took a sip, said, ‘More for me,’ and then she folded Nina in a bone-crushing hug. ‘I’m so freaking happy for you.’
‘Thanks, Si. I … I wanted to tell you in private first. I can’t imagine—’