Chapter 5
EBBA
“I can’t be this inept, can I?” I mutter aloud to the silent and empty kitchen. The contraption Noah has for coffee is far out of my element. The fancy device looks like it belongs in a coffee shop, not in someone’s home.
“Oh, that thing?” I stiffen at Fisher’s voice. I hadn’t realized anyone else was around. “It’s not as hard as it looks. What do you want?”
“I don’t know.” My shoulders deflate. “What can it do?”
“You like iced espressos, right?” He pushes his glasses up his nose and I nearly groan. I never thought glasses were attractive until I met Fisher. He doesn’t wear them often, preferring his contacts, but I love them on him.
Loved, I remind myself.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got you,” he says and my breath catches when he invades my space. He’s so close and he smells familiar like a favorite sweater you return to time and time again even when it’s falling apart just because it’s perfectly worn in.
I step away from the corner I’ve been pinned in and move toward the sink. I can breathe easier when Fisher Grant isn’t invading my space.
He grinds beans and then tamps them down, working quickly and efficiently like my own personal barista. While the espresso is brewing, he grabs a cup and fills it with ice and grabs oat milk and some sort of creamer from the refrigerator.
When the espresso is ready, he pulls out some round looking contraption from the freezer. At my inquisitive look, he says, “It helps to rapidly cool the espresso and keep the ice from melting as much.”
“Interesting,” I muse.
He sticks a glass straw in the cup and hands it to me. “Let me know what you think.”
I take a sip and can’t hold back my tiny hum of appreciation. “This is delicious.”
“Thanks.” He crosses his arms over his chest. He’s dressed comfortably in a pair of shorts and a hoodie. “Where are the girls?”
I shrug. “Sleeping in, I guess.”
He leans back, bracing his hands on the counter. Even through his hoodie I easily see the contours of his biceps. I quickly drop my gaze.
We haven’t been alone like this in ages. His presence shouldn’t affect me as potently as it does, but he’s all-consuming.
“Thanks for this.” I raise the cup slightly in the air.
He gives me a soft, nearly shy smile before he drops his gaze. “You’re welcome.”
I wasn’t planning to leave the kitchen, but I need to get away from him, so I head outside to the pool area and settle on one of the chaise lounges.
That’s where Sabrina and Whimsy find me, reading a book on my phone, an hour later.
“I wondered where you were hiding,” Sabrina teases. “I should’ve known you’d be avoiding Fisher.”
“I’m not hiding.” I roll my eyes and swing my legs over the side of the chaise. Picking up my glass now filled only with melted ice, I say, “I’ll have you know, he made my coffee this morning because I couldn’t figure out Noah’s fancy ass coffee maker.”
Sabrina laughs. “He’s so over the top with it, I know. He says he got it for me, but I’m not doing all that, so he ends up making it for me.”
I follow the girls back into the house and drop my glass off in the sink with a quick rinse.
“The dress shop is about thirty minutes way,” Sabrina says as we pile into her car.
I take the backseat, because I’m hoping that will eliminate any string of questioning that leads back to Fisher.
But I should know better.
Whimsy turns around to face me with a sly smile. “So, Fisher made your coffee?”
I roll my eyes. “It was just coffee.”
As if reading my thoughts, Sabrina glances back at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you ever going to just come out and spill what happened? We all have eyes. I’m pretty sure everyone knows you guys were together except Noah. He’s pretty oblivious.”
“Everyone?” I nearly choke on my tongue and end up swallowing wrong which leads to me hacking in the back.
“Jeez.” Whimsy passes me a bottle of water.
“We weren’t trying to kill you with the question.
You don’t have to be dramatic and almost die by your own saliva on us.
” I purse my lips and accept the water bottle.
I take a few careful sips to help calm my throat.
“I haven’t said anything to your brother, but he’s not dumb, and he’s made enough comments to me that it’s safe to say he knows you and Fisher have something between you two. ”
“Ugh.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I feel a headache coming on. It sucks to hear that despite years having passed since our secret relationship that people can see that there’s something between us. “It’s in my past,” I say. “I’ve moved on.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Whimsy says in an almost pitying tone, “But have you?”
I don’t answer, opting instead to look out the window and contemplate her question.
It’s a tricky situation. In many ways I have moved on with my life, but in others Fisher and what could’ve been still very much haunts my memories.
The girls don’t press me though, leaving me to stew in my silence while they make small talk about what’s planned for today and the upcoming wedding.
We arrive at the bridal boutique and Sabrina hooks her arm through mine and Whimsy does the same on my other side.
“No more talk about Fisher,” Sabrina promises. “Just fun.”
I give a small smile in return. It would probably be good for me to get it off my chest—to tell my friends all the details about my time with Fisher, the pregnancy, losing the baby and ultimately losing him.
But I’ve kept it buried down deep for so long that the idea of sharing it makes me downright sick to my stomach.
It was hard enough to admit that there had been something with us.
Inside, the boutique is decorated in soft pastel shades of pink, blue, and lavender with floral wallpaper donning the walls and three separate areas set up with a pedestal and a small couch for viewing the bride to be.
“Sabrina,” croons a southern sounding woman to our right. “Are you ready for your final fitting?” The brown-skinned woman does a little shimmy as she approaches.
“You have no idea.” Sabrina lets go of my arm and Whimsy does the same. “I’m so ready to be married.”
“I assume these are more of your friends?” The woman asks.
“Yes. And Lucy and Alyssa who you’ve already met should be here any minute. This is Ebba.” She gestures to me. “And Whimsy. Guys, this is Laurel. She owns the shop.”
“This place is lovely,” I say, looking around.
“Thank you, dear.” She smiles kindly. “Would you all like any tea? Champagne? Wine?”
“I’m good,” Whimsy says.
“I’ll take some champagne.” Maybe some of the bubbly liquid will help calm me.
“You all have a seat here and Sabrina follow me to a dressing room.” She crooks her finger and Sabrina trails after her, glancing back at us with a smile.
“She’s so happy,” Whimsy says when she’s gone from our sight.
“She really is.”
Whimsy crosses her legs and stares me down. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you, though.”
I huff softly. “If you’re referring to my abysmal love life, there’s more to life than just that.”
“I know.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re unhappy, Ebba. I’ve known you for years and I can’t recall you ever being this mopey.”
I lower my head. She’s right to call me out on it.
As devastating as it was to lose my career in dance, and my relationship with Fisher, I coped well for the most part.
But the incident in Paris with my ex shook me, and the recent increase in my leg pain has left me feeling tired, angry, and vulnerable. Three things I don’t like to feel.
A girl comes from the back area that Laurel and Sabrina disappeared too and hands me a glass of champagne and sets a small plate of pastel-colored macarons between us.
When she’s gone, Whimsy groans and picks up a robin’s egg blue one.
“Don’t judge me,” she says at my amused look. “I can’t resist these.”
“I’m not.” I swipe up the lavender one.
The door to the store opens and I look over my shoulder to see Sabrina’s best friend Lucy, and her wife Alyssa, hurrying into the store.
“We didn’t miss anything, did we?” Lucy asks with wide, panicked eyes.
“Not at all,” Whimsy says, scooting against my side to make room for our new additions.
I hold out the plate toward Lucy and Alyssa. “Do you guys want one?”
Lucy does a little dance in her seat and takes the pink one.
“None for me,” Alyssa says with a smile. “But thanks.”
We catch up on basic things while we wait for Sabrina to come out from the dressing room. When she does, all our breaths catch.
Stunning is too insignificant of a word to describe her.
Ethereal, maybe, but even that doesn’t truly encompass how she takes my breath away. Noah might pass away when he sees her.
The dress is simple, but in the most elegant way, with sweeping low sleeves and a skirt that drapes in a way that makes me think of royalty.
“Oh, Sabrina,” I gasp, feeling myself get a little choked up. “You look … wow.”
Whimsy wipes away a tear. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”
We helped her with dress shopping, but there’s something so vastly different in seeing her in the dress when it’s perfectly altered to her body.
Sabrina smiles at her reflection in the mirror and lifts the skirt to turn to us.
Laurel, and a woman who I assume might be the seamstress, smile off to the side and let us have our moment with our friend.
“What do you guys think?” Sabrina asks with a watery smile. “Do I look okay?”
“Okay?” Lucy scoffs. “You’re a total knockout. Noah’s going to swallow his tongue.”
“You think?” She bites her lip.
“Sabrina,” I say, pausing to think of the right words to say. “You are a goddess. No one has ever looked as good in a wedding dress as you do.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Did Lucy pay you for the compliment?”
“Not at all. I mean it.”
“Thank you.” She turns back to the mirrors, beaming at her own reflection. “Wow,” she murmurs. “I can’t believe I’m getting married. Noah’s going to be my husband. How crazy is that?”