Chapter 57 Orla
Orla
London
February
The cold February wind bit at my cheeks as I wove through the streets of Mayfair, my coat pulled tight around me. After two months of blazing Australian sun and Malibu heat, the sharp London chill felt like punishment and a comedown of epic proportions.
We left Cali just after Christmas and headed straight Down Under.
Tyler had stormed his way through the Australian Open, carving a path to the final before losing by a single set to Jordan, who was still riding the wave of his post honeymoon glow.
Tyler came home buzzing, hungry, and more determined than ever to take him down this year.
And now here I was, walking toward my bridal appointment, heart thudding against my ribs, equal parts giddy with excitement and sick with nerves.
Gwen and Kate were meeting me there, and just the thought of sharing this with them warmed something in my heart.
It wasn’t the same as having my mum at my side, but in truth, I couldn’t imagine two better people to share this with. My chosen family.
I stopped outside the boutique, its tall glass windows gleaming in the winter light, mannequins dressed in silk and lace staring down at me like they knew I didn’t belong.
The polished gold lettering above the door made my stomach twist. Places like this were for women who floated through life with confidence and black Amex cards, not for me.
But this was my day, so I swallowed hard, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
Relief hit me instantly. Two familiar idiots were perched on a blush-pink chesterfield in the waiting area, champagne flutes already in hand.
“I should’ve known you two would be drinking before I even got here,” I laughed, the tension loosening in my chest.
“Here she is, the beautiful bride,” Kate said, leaping up to hug me. Her voice crackled, and I caught the shimmer of tears already gathering in her eyes.
“Jesus, Kate, at least let her get through the door before you start blubbering,” Gwen muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Sorry, it’s a big day!” Kate sniffed sheepishly but a small smile spread on her lips.
Before I could reply, a petite blonde woman in a chic designer wrap dress appeared, her hair pinned into a perfect chignon. She carried a leather-bound folder against her chest and gave me a professional but genuine smile.
“You must be Mrs. Reed. We’ve been very excited to have you in. And don’t worry, we’re under strict instruction from Mr. Reed not to discuss any costs with you.”
Her grin widened, and Gwen’s eyebrow shot up. “Fuc—”
Kate elbowed her before she could finish.
I bit back a laugh. Yeah, we definitely didn’t belong here.
The woman led us upstairs into a stunning lounge area draped in opulent cream fabrics.
The carpet was the softest I’d ever stepped on, and vintage armchairs were scattered artfully around the room.
This wasn’t one of those shops with racks of dresses to browse through.
This was the kind of place that brought the dress to you.
We sat with the lady, Cornelia—even her name sounded expensive—for half an hour discussing ideas and styles.
In my head, I’d always pictured walking down the aisle in something sleek and strapless, maybe satin.
Cornelia nodded thoughtfully, then disappeared to fetch some options.
Within twenty minutes she returned, three gowns gliding toward us on a gilded rail.
Cornelia swept the dresses into the center of the room as though she were unveiling the crown jewels. My stomach flipped. Seeing them up close gleaming in the light, heavy and exquisite made it all suddenly real. I was actually here. About to step into one of them.
“Right,” Cornelia said crisply. “Why don’t we begin with the satin strapless? I think you’ll be pleased.”
Kate let out a tiny squeal, clutching Gwen’s arm.
“Jesus Christ, it’s not even on her, yet,” Gwen muttered.
“Shut up,” Kate whispered back, already glassy-eyed.
I laughed, nerves bubbling up. “You two are going to make me cry before I’ve even tried anything on.”
“That’s the point,” Gwen deadpanned but her smile softened. “Go on, then. Let’s see our girl in her first dress.”
Cornelia motioned me toward a private dressing space screened off with heavy, draped curtains.
My palms were clammy as I stepped inside, running my hands over the smooth, silky fabric.
For a moment a lump formed on my throat; it was a feeling I’d become familiar with since I was a little girl.
This was supposed to be something I’d do with Mum.
Picking the dress. Seeing her face light up when I walked out in it for the first time.
The ache sat heavy for a moment, until I thought of Tyler and the way he’d arranged this whole day so I wouldn’t miss out.
Moments like these were always strange. I didn’t really know my mum long enough before she passed, and sometimes I couldn’t tell if I missed her, or the idea of her, the version of a mother I’d built in my head over the years.
Cornelia lifted the first gown from its hanger and floated it toward me, the silk catching the light like liquid cream. Suddenly, it all felt too real. My palms prickled as I smoothed them down the front of the dress, trying to steady my breath.
It was ivory satin with a sweetheart neckline.
No fuss, no frills. Exactly the kind of thing I’d always pictured myself wearing to walk down the aisle.
Cornelia guided me into it, fastening the endless line of tiny buttons with gloved precision.
My pulse quickened. My God. I actually looked like a bride.
When the curtain swept back and I stepped into the lounge, Kate squealed so loudly her champagne nearly sloshed over the rim of the glass. Gwen gave a low whistle.
I climbed onto the pedestal, catching sight of myself in the mirror.
My chest rose and fell too fast. The gown was perfect on paper.
All clean lines and elegant fabric, everything I thought I wanted.
But as I stood there, staring at my reflection, something didn’t settle.
I looked the part, yes, but I didn’t feel it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice unconvincing. “But… I thought I’d feel more wow in it.”
Gwen tipped her head. “Not going to lie, you look stunning. But if that’s your reaction, it’s not the one.”
“Yeah,” I sighed and scrunched my nose, studying myself for a few more seconds. “Don’t think it is.”
“That’s no problem,” Cornelia said smoothly. “Your instinct is important. Let’s try something completely different.”
She guided me back behind the curtain and helped me peel off the satin sheath before presenting the next contender. A towering satin ballgown with a pearl-studded bodice, strapless and heavy enough to crush me under its own weight.
When I stepped out, Kate’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s very…romantic,” she offered weakly.
Gwen didn’t bother to hide her smirk. One look in the mirror and I lost it, bursting into laughter.
“Jesus, you look like you could fit the entire wedding cake under there…and Tyler,” Gwen declared with a raised eyebrow.
That set all three of us off, laughter filling the plush little boutique. Even Cornelia’s mouth twitched. “Well, I think we can rule that one out.”
Still laughing, I wiped my eyes. Cornelia tilted her head, a secretive glimmer in her gaze.
“Are you ready for my secret weapon?” she asked.
I froze. “Go on.”
She swept back the curtain and revealed it.
For a second, I almost laughed again. It looked too perfect, like something out of a glossy magazine, the kind of gown women pinned to mood boards but never actually wore.
But as I stared, the room grew quiet. There was something about the way the fabric caught the light, the shape of the neckline, the slit at the side, the drama and simplicity all at once. My pulse began to race.
And when I stepped into it, I felt the silk slide over my hips, the corset hugging me in all the right places and a tingle rose through my fingers to my cheeks.
I walked out, smoothing the fabric nervously, and the room went dead silent.
Kate’s hand flew to her mouth, tears forming instantly. Gwen, always the one with a quick quip, just blinked, completely lost for words.
Cornelia sang triumphantly. “There it is.”
I turned toward the mirror, and for the first time that afternoon, I didn’t feel like I was trying on someone else’s fantasy.
This was me. Elegant lines, just enough skin.
Feminine without being fragile. The off-shoulder sleeves framed me perfectly, the slit made me feel like I could walk into a room and own it.
And all I could think was: Tyler’s going to lose his fucking mind.
My throat closed, eyes blurring as I stared at my reflection. “Oh my God…”
Kate was already sobbing into a tissue. Gwen finally rasped, “Yeah. That’s it. That’s your dress.”
Cornelia nodded. “We always know when it’s the one. It’s the silence that gives it away.”
I must have stood there for twenty minutes while Cornelia fussed adding veils, taking them away, tweaking the neckline while I just stared, unable to move.
“I should probably take it off,” I sighed eventually.
“Not before I get a picture.” Kate scrambled up so fast she almost knocked over her glass which, now that I noticed, still looked suspiciously full.
I smiled for the photo, then narrowed my eyes as I stepped down. Come to think of it, she’d cried all afternoon and hadn’t touched her drink once.
“Kate,” I said slowly. “Is there a reason you’ve been an absolute blubbering wreck and still haven’t touched your champagne?”
Gwen cut her a sharp look. Kate flushed crimson.
“Mrs. Taylor…” Gwen drawled.
Kate looked like a deer caught in headlights before she finally huffed. “Fine.” Her hand drifted to her stomach, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “I’m pregnant.”
“WHAT?!” Gwen and I gasped in unison.
“I wasn’t going to tell you today,” she rushed on. “It’s your special moment, Orla. But yeah, almost twelve weeks. We had our first scan a few days ago. Turns out getting drunk on your wedding night after you stop breastfeeding isn’t exactly stellar birth control.”
“Oh my God, Kate!” Gwen shrieked, launching at her.
I nearly ripped off the gown to hug her too. Laughing through tears, I pulled her in tight. “You’ll be bloody beautiful in a maternity bridesmaid dress, don’t even think otherwise.”
She laughed, watery and glowing. “Today’s about you, Orla. But just so you know, those weren’t hormonal tears, you genuinely looked breathtaking.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said, still clutching her hand. “But Jesus, I can’t believe you’re pregnant again.”
“Does that man have a breeding kink or what?” Gwen replied dryly.
Kate glared at Gwen with mock offence while I snorted so hard I nearly doubled over.
“Oh my God, Gwen!” Kate swatted her, blushing furiously.
“What?” Gwen grinned, raising her champagne. “I’m just saying, I think he’s trying to prove a point now.”