Chapter 18
Captain Kendra’s Log: If you have to ask, it’s not for you.
I pulled into the only spot left in the parking behind Charlotte’s Bridal and took a few moments to wipe the tears off my face.
It was ridiculous. Crying over a boat. But that wasn’t just any boat.
It was my first boat. And it was The Plan.
We had The Plan, Jesse, and me. Without that boat…
well, I’d need a new plan. I needed to talk to Jesse, but that wouldn’t happen at True’s gown fitting.
The groom couldn’t see the bride in her dress before the wedding. It was bad luck.
I briefly considered tricking him into coming to the store but ruled it out. It was like the rings thing. Would seeing the bride in her wedding dress really stop a wedding? Probably not, especially since Jesse and his mom, Charlotte, didn’t believe in those superstitions.
They moved to Pleasure Point when I was in middle school.
A talented seamstress, Charlotte opened Charlotte’s Bridal on Aphrodite Avenue.
People came from all over the country to buy a dress she created.
She had the bridal store long before Pleasure Point decided on the wedding destination rebrand.
Although, come to think of it, maybe that led to the decision? I’d have to ask Dad about that one.
I walked around the corner and nearly ran into a group of tourists headed for a picnic at the Pleasure Point Gazebo. I shook it off, steeled myself for Charlotte’s overwhelming bridal-ness, and pushed open the front door, bells tinkling overhead to alert people to my arrival.
“Velcome in!” Charlotte muttered in her French accent around a mouthful of pins. Her back was to the door as she worked on another bride’s hem.
A mannequin dressed in a simple yet stunning gown stood proudly in the front window, twinkling fairy lights wrapping around it like a soft embrace.
Rows of dresses, each a masterpiece in its own right, swayed gently on delicate satin hangers, from extravagant ball gowns straight out of a fairy tale to sleek, modern silhouettes that exuded sophistication.
The dresses had no price tags because they were custom, one-of-a-kind creations. If you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. Another reason I thought bridal gowns were a ridiculous custom - not that I’d ever tell my best friend’s mom that.
In the heart of the shop, the central fitting pedestal awaited, encircled by a wall of mirrors that captured every angle. It could also block the bride from the windows so a curious groom wouldn’t catch a glimpse of his intended and jinx their nuptials.
A tray of champagne, red wine, and sparkling water captured my attention, and I made a beeline for the wine.
I grabbed a glass, took a sip, and turned to see True emerge from the dressing room. A hush fell over the crowd, punctuated by my nearly choking on my wine.
She was a bridal angel. There was no other way to describe it.
Her curly blonde hair framed her cherubic face.
A creamy white expanse of silk draped over her voluptuous figure, with tiny hand-stitched pearls creating intricate patterns of waves from her chest to the floor.
The garment was strapless, all the better to show off her strong shoulders and muscular upper arms. The hem pooled around her feet in a small train that would look gorgeous in pictures.
She looked like she stepped right off her own wedding cake.
How was I going to compete with that?
“Kendra! You made it!” True gathered up her train and shuffled over to me.
She hugged me, and my wine glass precariously tipped to the side.
For a moment, I considered letting it go and drenching her wedding dress in red wine all down the backside.
It would look like Shark Week came early.
Or an autopsy. A firm hand grabbed the wine glass and pulled it from my fingertips.
“And you brought your fiancé!” True exclaimed, pulling back to smile at Rowan and me.
Rowan.
I was startled at his sudden appearance. I hadn’t heard the bells over the door. Was he taking lessons from my stealth brother now? “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
Another hush fell over the crowd.
Rowan laughed and pulled me into a side hug. “Isn’t she spicy? I love that about her.” He pressed a kiss to my temple.
True pressed her hands to her heart. “You give me such hope. I love this for both of you.” She then glided - yes, glided - I don’t think she walks on the ground like mere mortals anymore; she simply floats wherever she wants. Which, in this instance, was over to the central fitting pedestal.
“Kendra, darling!” Charlotte marched up to me with the fierce determination of an Army general. “You made it! Truette said you would attend. And is this the handsome fiancé she was talking about? Oui? She did not do him justice! I am Charlotte Barbot. Mother of the groom and bridal gown creator.”
Rowan gently lifted Charlotte’s tiny hand in his and kissed the back of her hand. “Enchanté, madame. Je m'appelle Rowan. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer.”
I heard ovaries explode all over the bridal shop as he introduced himself and said it was nice to meet her. A little drool might have escaped my mouth, not that anyone noticed, with Rowan at the center of attention. I cleared my throat. “You speak French?”
“Assez pour être dangereux.” He smirked at me. “Enough to be dangerous.”
“Dangereux pour les dames, c'est s?r,” Charlotte purred at him, then turned to the rest of us. “Dangerous to the ladies. To be sure.”
All the ladies in the shop tittered as they batted their eyelashes at Rowan.
I’d never seen Charlotte ruffled like this. A blush darkened the Frenchwoman’s ebony cheeks as she fanned herself with her free hand. This was getting ridiculous. I gently pried her hand out of Rowan’s. “Okay, loverboy. French lessons are over. Charlotte has work to do.”
Charlotte giggled as she picked up her pins and walked toward the dais. “Don’t be ridicule. A handsome man is always welcome in my shop unless he is my ex-husband. God rest his soul.”
“He died?” Rowan asked.
“Non. But if that bastard steps foot in Pleasure Point, he will be dead!” Charlotte fake spat on the floor. “At my hands. I have strong scissors in the back.”
I chuckled. I had heard this threat a thousand times before but always wondered if Charlotte protested too much. She hadn’t seen her ex in more than thirty years. I wondered what would happen if he showed up in town.
“Now, ma chérie,” Charlotte said to True, a soft smile on her face. “We will finish this beautiful gown for my beautiful daughter-in-law-to-be. Yes?”
My heart sank at the words. The number of times I wanted Charlotte to address me like that.
“Shall we sit?” Rowan asked, leading me to a comfortable couch in view of the fitting stage.
I nodded and followed him. Then, I accepted a glass of sparkling water that he offered.
Rowan draped his arm across the back of the couch behind me, then leaned in to whisper, “You wouldn’t have dumped that red wine on her dress, would you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
His blue eyes darkened. “Is that who you want to be? Someone who goes to those lengths to ruin a wedding?”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed at him, looking around to see if anyone heard. No. They were all paying attention to the bride. “I don’t know what lengths I would go to.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that doing these childish pranks isn’t the way to go about it? Ruining a wedding dress or hiding rings won’t do as much damage as undermining their relationship,” Rowan said.
I frowned and considered his words. That was a good point.
“Isn’t this gorgeous?” True called from the pedestal.
“It is,” I admitted. “Charlotte is a whiz with silk, tulle, and seed pearls.”
True smoothed her hands down the bodice.
“This is a modern version of my grandmother’s wedding dress.
” She nodded toward a faded vintage dress hanging outside a dressing room.
“My grandmother wore that when she married my grandfather. Strapless was a little scandalous then, so she wore a shawl over it. They had been married 50 years before he died. We had to finish my dress today because my grandmother will be buried in that one on Wednesday, and we won’t have the original anymore. ”
I blinked a few times. “Your grandmother is being buried in her wedding dress?”
True shrugged, and Charlotte chided her as the hem moved. “Sorry, Charlotte.”
“Maman, I told you to call me Maman,” Charlotte corrected, then returned to pinning the hem.
An ache started in my chest, and I rubbed the spot to alleviate the pressure.
The whir of a sewing machine from the back room seemingly grew louder.
The sharp snip of scissors mingled with laughter between Charlotte and True.
The bite of the red wine I drank earlier formed acid in my throat.
The cloying scent of roses from the counter was suddenly too much.
“I need air.” I scrambled off the couch and tried not to break into a run as I escaped the bridal shop with Rowan hot on my heels.
I didn’t stop fast walking until I made it around the block to the parking lot. Then, I bent over with my hands on my knees and took several deep breaths. Rowan caught up to me and rubbed my lower back.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
I lifted my head. “Do I look okay to you?”
He considered me. “No. You look like you’re in the throes of a panic attack, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What I’m thinking. You said it yourself - if he wanted me, he would have said something before now, right?”
I watched a muscle tic in Rowan’s jaw as he considered the question.“Goldilocks, I only said what I would do if I were in that situation,” Rowan sighed. “I don’t know Jesse. Maybe he’s as scared as you are of saying anything.”
“I’m not scared.”
Rowan tilted his head and squinted at me. “Seems like you are.”
“No way. I’m not scared.”
“Then why didn’t you tell him?”
“It never seemed like the right time.”
Rowan glanced up at the clear sky before leveling another stare at me. “Did it ever occur to you that it was never the right time because he’s not the right guy for you? That’s why you’ve held back?”
My hands clenched into fists. “You take that back.”
He shrugged. “Nope.”
“That’s a dirty lie. You take it back!” I yelled.
“If it’s a lie, prove me wrong. Go tell him how you feel right now!”
My heart stuttered, and I jutted out my chin. I reached into my pocket for my phone and held it up in front of Rowan’s face. “Maybe I will!”
“Then do it.”
“I will.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
Rowan crossed his arms across his incredible chest. “Of course not. You’re the boss of your life. You decide what you want and don’t want. It’s your decision, right?”
My mouth opened and closed as I thought of a great comeback. I didn’t have one. And my luck, I’d think of one two weeks from now in the middle of the night when Rowan was long gone.
The thought of him leaving did funny things to my insides, but maybe it was the wine I drank.
I blew out a breath and pushed the hair off my face, glancing down at my phone. I could call Jesse or go see him. He had to be on the island somewhere. He was a golf cart ride away from me for the first time in years. So, why haven’t I said anything before now?
“Nighttime is the right time, Captain Dudette.”
I blinked a few times as Ziggy came into focus. He had a neon pink flyer in his hands, which he gave to Rowan.
“BIMBO?” Rowan looked up from the flyer. “What’s this?”
“This is our bondage experience.” Ziggy shrugged. “We get all tied up in games.”
“Bondage?” Rowan’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean bonding?”
“Just go with it,” I muttered.
“This week’s all turvy topsy with your bestie’s wedding, so we need to get things right tonight,” Ziggy explained. It almost made sense. “All Pointers will be there, including the love of your life.” Ziggy pointed to me.
My heart beat a little faster. I snatched the flyer out of Rowan’s hands. “Tonight at five.”
“Everything changes.” Ziggy saluted us both and walked away, humming a familiar tune that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Rowan waited until Ziggy was out of earshot before he said, “You can’t be serious about this.”
“Serious as a panic attack,” I said. “Tonight’s the night Operation Break Up gets started.”