Chapter 42
Carla
The house smells like hairspray, perfume and extreme excitement.
The three of us are crammed into Robyn’s bedroom, half getting ready and half getting in each other’s way, which is how this is supposed to work.
Cath sits cross-legged on the end of the bed in her robe, scrolling through her phone, one bare foot bouncing.
I’m curled into the armchair by the window in my own robe, a soft cream color Robyn picked out for all three of us as a getting-ready gift.
My hair is already curled into loose waves, and my face is done, soft and warm around the eyes, my lips a color Cath picked out this morning that she swears photographs better than anything I’d have chosen myself.
It’s a shade we don’t get on Draig. It must be from the Mainland. I must say, it looks good. My cheeks are highlighted, and my eyes look huge.
Robyn sits at the vanity in the corner, not moving so much as a muscle, while the hairdresser, Yvette, works a curling wand through the last section of her hair.
“You’re barely even breathing,” Cath tells Robyn. “Like you’re afraid moving will undo all of Yvette’s hard work.” She giggles.
“I am afraid of exactly that,” Robyn says, eyes locked on the mirror. “Don’t talk to me. I’m concentrating on being a mannequin.”
“I don’t blame her,” I say. “I’d sit like a statue too if someone spent that long on me.”
“You say that, but you fidget through everything,” Cath says.
“That’s true,” I say. “My hair has nowhere near as much curl as the two of you.”
Cath laughs and puts her phone down on the bed next to her.
“I have an idea,” she says. “Let’s have half a glass of champagne. Just enough to take the edge off. I’m sure you’re nervous?” she asks her sister.
“I feel pretty okay, actually,” Robyn says.
“So that’s a no, then?” Cath levels her with a stare.
“It’s a hell yes,” Robyn says, without moving her head so much as an inch. She does move her eyeballs all the way to the side.
Yvette laughs, pins the last section into place, and steps back to admire her work.
“That’s you done,” she says, already packing up her kit bag. “Don’t touch it, don’t lie down, and try not to cry until after the ceremony.”
“No promises,” Robyn says. “You are a miracle worker.”
“I had a very pretty canvas.” Yvette smiles. “That goes for all three of you.”
Yvette says her goodbyes and lets herself out, and the front door clicks shut a minute later.
“Perfect timing,” Cath says, and slips out toward the kitchen.
“You look great,” I tell Robyn.
“So do you.” Robyn smiles at me.
There’s a distant pop and hiss of a cork letting go.
“So this is it,” I say.
Robyn bites her bottom lip just as Cath returns with a chilled bottle in one hand and three glasses hooked between her fingers in the other. She pours each of us a small measure.
“To Robyn,” Cath says, lifting hers. “To the best day of your life, sis.”
“To Robyn,” I say. “To your big day, my friend.”
We clink glasses, and Robyn takes a huge gulp, closing her eyes like she’s savoring a religious experience.
“Oh, I needed that,” she says. “After weeks of green juice, and I forgot what joy tastes like.”
I laugh, and so does Cath.
I bring mine to my lips and take a sip, and something about it isn’t right. It’s flat, almost sour at the back of my throat, like it’s been open too long, even though I watched Cath crack the seal myself.
I glance at Cath and Robyn, who are both drinking theirs without complaint, Robyn already halfway through hers.
Weird.
I take another small sip, hoping I imagined it the first time.
Nope. Still off. I put the glass down on the nightstand instead of forcing it, chalking it up to weeks of nothing stronger than sparkling water.
My taste buds have probably forgotten what to do with alcohol. I will retrain them, starting tonight.
“We should get dressed,” Robyn says, glancing at the clock on the wall. “The car will be here soon.”
“Shit, you’re right,” I agree.
That gets everyone moving. Cath grabs her dress bag off the hook by the door and heads for the guest room.
I grab mine and take it into the third bedroom, shutting the door behind me, grateful that Ridge and Robyn’s house has enough space for all of us to have our own corner to fall apart in privately if we need to.
I hang the dress on the back of the door and strip out of my robe.
First things first: the shapewear. I wrestle myself into a pair I bought specifically for this occasion, the kind that promises to smooth everything into submission. This baby had better work.
It takes some hopping and a fair amount of muttering, but I get it up over my hips, and I have to admit, once it’s on, it does its job. My stomach looks flatter. My waist is more defined.
Yes!
This is great!
I’m not sure why I bothered with all that working out.
Next is the new bra. I picked it up two weeks ago specifically for this dress, a push-up in a nude color that does exactly what it promises.
Because of the few extra pounds that I can’t seem to shed, my breasts are bigger than I’d like them to be.
But squeezed into this number, they are a little more tamed, with some upward projection instead of being all out there.
The extra padding hides my nipples, which is a big plus.
The dress goes on last. I step into it and pull it up, working the side zipper with some effort, and turn to check myself in the mirror on the closet door.
The green really is a good color on me. It catches the light and does something to my eyes that no amount of makeup could manage on its own.
The gather at the hip skims over everything, and my chest fills out the sweetheart neckline.
I have the deepest cleavage I have ever had in my whole life.
I am using help here. This definitely isn’t all God-given, but I don’t care.
I put on my earrings, then the thin gold bracelet Robyn gave the two of us last week as a thank-you gift, engraved on the inside with the date. My heels are next, a medium height I chose specifically because I plan on dancing later and would like to still have functioning ankles at the reception.
I take one last look in the mirror.
I wonder if Magma will notice.
No!
I’m going to see him soon, but I can’t be thinking about him. Not now. I think about his pretty girlfriend, and green is my color alright because I get jealous as anything.
Arghhh!
I push the thought out before it can take root. Today belongs to Robyn, and I refuse to let anything take even a sliver of it from her.
I take one more breath and head for the door.
Cath is already in the hallway when I step out, in a dress that is the same color as mine but in a different cut that works for her.
“Look at you,” she says, eyes going over me. “You look amazing.”
“So do you, Cath. I’m so glad you could come. Robyn is thrilled. You made her whole day.”
“Thanks for being such a good friend to her. She talks about you all the time.” She widens her eyes. “I can’t believe that her wedding day has arrived. My parents were starting to think she might never find that special someone,” she says under her breath, her eyes going to Robyn’s bedroom door.
“Well, she has. Ridge is wonderful.”
“He really is.” She nods.
“He is going to take excellent care of your sister.”
“I know he will. I remember getting ready like this, twelve years ago for my own wedding.” Her gaze drifts toward Robyn’s door for a second time, like she’s back there instead of here. “It feels like forever ago. Now we have two kids and a whole life. It’ll be your turn next.” She looks at me.
I frown. “I highly doubt that. I still have to meet the right guy.”
Which might never happen.
“It’ll happen when you least expect it.” She tilts her head, studying me for a second too long.
“I think it’s very rare that someone looks at their future partner and goes: ‘it’s him, or it’s her.
’ It took me several years before I realized that I was in love with Jasper. We were friends for a long time.”
“Oh…that’s interesting.”
“Yep.” She nods a few times. “I realized first and kissed him, which spooked poor Jasper. He literally ran away. He had only ever seen me as a good friend. It didn’t take him long to come around.
” She laughs. “Roughly a week after I planted one on him, he turned up at my door, and we had the best sex of my life.”
I bark out a laugh.
“With my best friend.” She’s smiling, looking wistful. “And that’s how it’s been ever since.”
“That’s a great story. I—”
“Are you telling the story about how you and Jasper got together?” Robyn asks from the bedroom. The door is open. We were so busy chatting that we never even realized she was done changing.
Then she steps out, and every word I had planned to say disappears.
Her dress is somehow more beautiful than before. Her hair is done and pinned back from her face, the veil not yet in place but draped over her arm for later. She’s glowing and radiant.
Cath gasps, and my mouth falls open.
“Well?” Robyn asks, turning a slow circle. “Say something. You’re both just staring.”
“You’re stunning,” Cath manages. “Mum’s earrings look beautiful with that dress.”
I can’t say anything at all. My eyes are already filling, and I have to wave a hand in front of my face, like that’s going to do anything to stop it.
“Don’t you dare,” Robyn says, pointing at me. “If you cry, I’ll cry, and then Yvette spent an hour on my face for nothing.”
“I’m not crying.” My voice comes out thick, and a tear rolls down anyway before I can catch it on the back of my finger. “Not! Crying! Dammit!” I wave my hand faster. I sniff.
“You are such a sap.” She smiles.
“I’m not a sap.” I blink hard. “You look so beautiful, Robyn. I mean it.”
“Okay, we all need champagne again before we ruin our makeup,” Cath says, leaving for the bottle.
She comes back and pours a little in each of our glasses. We clink them together, three glasses meeting in the middle of the hallway.
“To Robyn,” Cath says again. “You look amazing. Ridge is one lucky guy.”
“To the two of you on your big day.” We clink our glasses again.
This time the champagne tastes a little better, not quite like it used to but better, and I decide I must just have needed to get back into the swing of things after weeks and weeks without so much as a sip.
A horn sounds outside, and Robyn’s head turns toward the window.
“That’s the car,” she says, smiling. “I can’t wait to be married.”
We put the glasses down.
“I thought dragon shifters called it mating and not marrying.” Cath looks confused.
Robyn blushes.
I laugh. “They will get married today, and we will all be there,” I tell Cath. “When he mates with your sister, you don’t want to be there…trust me.”
Cath’s mouth drops open, and her eyes go wide. “Oh! Will they…? Is it…?”
Robyn starts laughing; she’s nodding.
“No…” Cath shakes her head. “I definitely do not want to be there.” She takes a swig of champagne right out of the bottle.
We all laugh after that.
The limo hoots again.
“Shit!” Robyn says. “We need to go. I don’t want to be late.”
We gather everything – the veil, the small clutch – and file out to the front door. The limo sits at the curb, long and black and gleaming in the midday sun, the driver already out and holding the back door open for us.
I reach for Robyn’s hand before she climbs in, and she takes mine, squeezing hard.
“This is it,” I tell her.
“This is it,” she says back. Her smile is enormous. If I didn’t love her so darned much, I’d be jealous as anything.