38. London #2
“Is everything all right?” the bridal owner asked with surprising calm. Then I realized she’d probably seen a lot of emotional stuff going down in her store.
“This is it.” Taran gestured to the dress. “This is the one.”
“Oh perfect! It’s awfy braw, that one. I loved it as soon as it came into the store. Let me just take your measurements for alterations.”
Her assistant offered us champagne while we waited, and Taran asked to see their selection of bridesmaid dresses.
None of them really appealed to us, so we decided to move on to the next store once Taran’s wedding dress arrangements were all made.
The owners of the next store, two older women, seemed a little put out Taran had already found her wedding dress until they realized three of us were looking for bridesmaid gowns.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t agree on anything in their selection either and I was beginning to flag.
Thankfully, Taran had factored in a lunch break and booked a table at her favorite Italian restaurant.
The way she navigated the city so easily reminded me that this had been Taran’s home for half her life.
The food at the Italian restaurant, however, was amazing. Nee and I had spent two weeks before college traveling and Italy was one of our stops. The food at this Glaswegian restaurant was incredibly authentic, and I said so.
“Oh, Glasgow has a big Scottish Italian population that has really influenced the food here,” Taran explained. “Italian restaurants, ice cream shops, even fish and chip shops, believe it or not.”
“Ice cream?” Nee asked. “I’ve been craving ice cream lately.”
“I know just the place,” Taran promised.
A few hours later, we’d probably eaten too much for a dress fitting, but none of us cared, and I felt marginally better after eating. Still, I was drained and desperate for us to find something.
One of the issues was procuring a style of dress that would still fit Nee in a few months’ time.
When we finally found a dress that miraculously suited us all, I almost wept with relief.
It was the opposite of Taran’s fitted wedding gown.
More Grecian/Regency style where it nipped in at the breasts and then flowed out in layers of silk chiffon.
The sleeves were tiny drapes of fabric that slouched over our shoulders and there were fitted cups in the bodice to create a perfect sweetheart neckline that did amazing things for our cleavage.
Rather than go for the same color in different styles, Taran wanted to do the opposite.
Same style, different colors. We chose a sage green for me to complement my hair, a dark pink for Cammie, and a pale pink that suited Nee’s blond coloring.
Heather, Quinn’s daughter, was Taran’s maid of honor, and we chose a forest-green shade to put aside for Heather to try on when she got back from a European trip with her girlfriend.
She’d planned the trip to celebrate the end of her freshman year of uni before Taran had planned this.
Taran was unaware of the trip and had pushed her bridal appointments out to the very last minute to accommodate Heather finishing her studies, only for Heather to announce this romantic getaway.
Taran didn’t want to push the dress hunt any further out in case alterations couldn’t be done in time for the wedding, so we’d gone ahead without Heather.
Taran’s soon-to-be-stepdaughter felt awful about the miscommunication, so Taran was trying to reassure her every step of the way.
She’d been sending Heather pics all morning and now sent her a picture of me in the sage green with the question “But in forest green for you?”
Heather had replied ten minutes later with a “YES! Perfect!”
After we settled everything at the bridal store, we walked out into a drizzly afternoon and decided to hop over to the pub across the street. Once settled at a booth, Cammie turned to me. “I’m still pissed off that I didn’t get to help you plan your wedding, London.”
“I wish you’d gotten a real proposal out of him.” Nee took hold of my left hand, her fingers stroking over my beautiful engagement ring. “I mean, if he chooses this perfect a ring, I bet Murray’s proposal would have been phenomenal.”
“I think his performance at the Lantern should count, no?” Taran teased.
Cammie pretended to fan herself. “Fuck, aye. That was the hottest and most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“People are still talking about it,” Taran agreed. “They think you two must be very much in love.”
There was more than a little hint of a question in her tone.
“Are you in love?” Cammie asked with her usual bluntness.
Deciding I was safe here with these women, my best friends, I nodded. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. But that also scares the hell out of me.”
“Murray has reason to be scared too,” Taran offered gently. “But he pretty much told you with that song in the Lantern that he loves you.”
“Yeah, but Spoon deserves to hear him actually say the words.”
While Nee was right, she was also wrong. “I think, especially after our fight yesterday, that Murray deserves for me to say them first. And honestly, it wouldn’t just be for him. It would be for me. It would prove to me that Nick didn’t win. He didn’t ruin my chance at real love.”
Taran wrapped an arm around me, giving me a squeeze of encouragement while Nee beamed broadly. “I’m proud of you, Spoon.”
“Proud of you, Silver,” I said, my old nickname for her.
“Hey. Together your nicknames are Silverspoon.” Cammie chuckled. “Kind of perfect for two rich kids from Manhattan.”
I snorted. “Yeah, that was kind of the point.”
Cammie tapped the heel of her hand off her forehead. “Uh, duh.”
We chuckled, and I screwed my face up at Nee, pretending to be pissed. “Ramsay commandeered it. He got all possessive over her maiden name because he doesn’t call Nee anything else but Silver, so I had to give up my rights to it.”
“It just got weird.” Nee gave me an apologetic look. “I can’t hear anyone but him say it now.”
“Why?” Cammie winked. “Because he says it all sexy to you.”
Nee nodded. “Uh, yeah. Exactly that.”
We filled the pub with our raucous laughter, and it was almost, but not quite, a perfect moment. My horrible argument with Murray still weighed on me, making me impatient to get back to him.
To make everything right between us again.