Chapter 25
JASON
Nothing says Armageddon like getting close to a wedding day.
Poor Eileen. She has no idea that between now and the big day, the entire world can end. The only reason I continue humoring her is because I swear to God, this woman needs someone to watch over her or she’ll be trying to save the entire McBean clan.
“You know Jossie’s going to have a conniption over this,” I warn her as she puts money in a street meter.
Eileen stares at me incredulously. “Over getting Charlie’s dress altered?”
I nod.
She smirks. “Jossie is cool. I don’t get why you’re afraid of her as if she was the big bad wolf and you were one of the three little piggies.”
She laughs at her own joke, and after several seconds and a few confused glares from the people passing by, she takes a breath and says, “Why would you say that, little piggy?”
I lift my chin, feigning anger, but I can only stay like that for so long when her lips have that fantastic smile that just makes me breathe easier.
“It’s just a few stitches, don’t worry. She won’t notice.”
“She will, and she’ll freak out over getting Charlie’s dress altered way too fucking last minute by someone Jossie doesn’t know,” I say pressing my lips together and giving her a disapproving look. “Or approves of for that matter.”
Eileen grunts. “I told you, Seamus—”
“—Seamus—”
“—is a family friend who can do it in no time,” she explains. “He’s the one who altered Charlie’s baptismal gown to fit Sam and me too.”
A baptismal gown?
“I can’t believe you know a dude named Seamus,” I say instead of asking about this famous baptismal gown. Let’s hope Marek’s kid doesn’t have to wear it too. “That’s so funny, I don’t even need to make a joke for it.”
“Good,” she warns me.
As she opens the door to the shop for me, she gives me that gaze of you better behave or else and warns me, “If you make a joke in front of him, I’ll kick you out of here myself.”
“Fine, fine.” I raise my hands as if surrendering, even though I’m carrying the freaking gown, but caution her, “If he shows up in a leprechaun outfit with a pot of gold, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
She laughs at that one. Score.
The shop isn’t as asphyxiating as the bridal shop we were in a few days ago. In fact, I find it cozy. On one side, Seamus has his altering shop and on the other, he and his family have a tattoo parlor. How badass is that?
“Eileen,” a guy who’s about the same age as my father receives us. I stare at his tattoo sleeves and eye the chair.
“Tattoos are like marriages,” the guy says.
I swallow, wondering what he means by that. I have a couple of tattoos on my back but none of them are related to Greta or what I feel for weddings and the fucking institution of marriage.
“How can those two relate?” Eileen asks curiously.
“They are meant to be forever. So, when you think you’re ready for either one, you have to stop yourself and think about them thoroughly.
Think about what you want, where you want it, and if you’ll be able to live with it for the rest of your life.
If you can’t answer any of those questions, then stay away from the needle—or the commitment. ”
“Welp.” Eileen turns to me and claps her hand. “This wedding isn’t mine, and we’re not here to get a tattoo. So, let’s get to the point.”
“Down the hall, my dear,” Seamus indicates the way. “After you change, go onto the pedestal.”
I follow her but wait outside.
“Okay, second point,” I say while she’s changing in the bathroom at this tailor’s...shop? Store? Office? Convenient location with multiple businesses. “If this is Charlie’s wedding dress why is Eileen getting fitted for it.”
“Because Charlie wishes she had Eileen’s boobs and will stuff her bra regardless,” she explains. “So might as well give her the room to do that. Plus, she went to the doctor to make sure she’s healthy enough for her honeymoon.”
“Wait, honeymoon?” I don’t remember approving the cost of a trip to Acapulco.
“My grandparents from Mom’s side decided to gift her a honeymoon to The Keys,” she explains. “It’s not Acapulco like Marek wanted, but it’s a beach.”
“I knew they would find some sucker to pay for it,” I mumble.
“What’s that?” she shouts.
“Nothing,” I say innocently. “You realize she’s taller than you, right? And don’t brides like, wear high heels?”
“Can I reference your tragic backstory?”
“As long as you admit it’s tragic,” I concede.
“It’s extremely tragic,” she says indulgently.
I’m satisfied with that. “Proceed.”
“Well, not everyone wants to wear heels, pal,” she says. “You can’t supply what you know about one woman and apply it to every woman you meet after that.”
Are we still talking about Charlie and her?
That’s— “You’re saying I’m a dick.”
“I didn’t say that!” she shouts through the bathroom door.
“You just quoted misogyny 101.” I point emphatically. “Don’t assume all women are the same, that’s like, elementary level shit.”
“I guess,” she says. “If you know it, then I don’t understand why you still do it.”
I run a hand through my hair. “And you’re calling me out for it. Wow.”
“Well, didn’t you just assume every woman would wear heels to her wedding?” She protests.
I think about it for a second. “Shit, wow. Yeah, my bad. Thanks for calling me out on my bullshit. I’ll keep that in mind next time I try to make a blanket statement.”
“You’re welcome?” she says hesitantly. “You don’t need to thank me for anything.”
I cross my arms. “Have you ever been apologized to or thanked by a dude? Or, you know, ever been apologized to or thanked in general, ever?”
Her family doesn’t seem like the type to do either one period.
Eileen laughs. “Apologies, that’s a good one.”
“I’m being serious,” I argue.
“I don’t even have time to see dudes,” she says with a grunt. “Let alone have a long enough conversation with one of them where they could mess up and then be convinced into apologizing.”
The door creaks as she opens it. And wow, she’s gorgeous. I’m breathless, stunned, and speechless. The strapless top fits her perfectly, showing off her delicate shoulders.
I want to run my mouth across her soft skin, feather kisses along her long neck. As she walks, the bottom just flows off like this ethereal, angelic cloud.
Fuck, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. I could look at her forever.
“What do you think?” she says with a smile as she walks toward me. She beams as she twirls a couple of times. “How do I look?”
“Amazing,” I say without thinking.
She frowns. “What?”
“Uh... amazingly tall,” I say, producing a fake laugh. “How’d you get so tall?”
This is so awkward I feel like I’m drowning in quicksand.
She squints and shows her feet. “High heels. Remember?”
“Yeah, but…” Shit, think fast. What the fuck do I follow up with— “You’re taller than Charlie normally is?”
“Oh,” she says, shoulders sagging. “Charlie’s wearing heels to the wedding.”
“But you just said—”
“Don’t assume every woman wants to wear high heels to her wedding,” she says with a smirk. “I never said don’t assume Charlie wouldn’t wear high heels to her wedding.”
I burst into genuine laughter. “I can’t believe you.”
Eileen giggles, hip checking me as she heads to where the tailor is waiting for her. I tilt my head, enjoying the view. So fucking beautiful.
My mind short circuits when the tailor asks her to lift her skirt. The heels make her toned legs look like a mile long. My eyes follow them up, up, and I wish I could undress her slowly.
I fan myself. It’s too fucking hot and my pants are incredibly tight.
“I need to use the restroom,” I shout before running toward the back of the store.
This can’t be happening to me. I slam the bathroom door behind me, triple check that it’s locked.
I slap myself. “Pull it together, dude,” I chastise myself. “You’re not jerking off in public just because you’ve got some sort of...”
What is it? A crush? Lust for this amazing, smart, and funny chick? Or it’s just a wedding fetish?
Yeah, I think to myself. Wedding fetish. That has to be it. I never got to see my bride wearing her wedding dress, so it must be why I’m just thinking about ripping that dress off Eileen and tasting her. No other reason.
How do I get rid of it? Or her?