Elly looked up into her brown eyes.
“Trust me.” Her bottom lip turned out. “Trust me.”
Elly blinked and couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Okay.” She turned and walked out of the ballroom, past the cameras, past the gathering photographers (eleven, at her last count), past the archway made of twisting almond branch and dripping white daffodils, and past a vase taller than she was that swirled with tiny silver fish. Jogging now, Elly reached the van and climbed into the back, shutting the door behind her. It was sweltering inside. As she reached for her dress, she noticed the bag had been smeared with dusty white pollen during transport, and Elly prayed that it hadn’t gotten on the neck of the dress. She ducked her head forward and pulled her still-damp curly hair up into a bun with a few bobby pins that she had in her tiny delivery purse. Looking in the rearview mirror, she arranged the bun so that it looked messy on purpose. Or maybe it was just messy. Whatever. Crap, crap, crap.
Elly dumped her purse out on the passenger seat. Lip gloss and a small compact were the only pieces of makeup that it contained. Blasting the AC on her face, Elly hastily applied some powder to her nose and cheeks, which were flushed and shiny. The lip gloss added a subtle pink tint to her lips and she popped a mint into her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror, her bright-blue eyes staring back at her, smeared with a bit of mascara. Awesome. She cautiously looked out the window before pulling her stinky shirt and yoga pants off. She reached for the dress. Good thing you grabbed the dress … and nothing else, she chastised herself. When she had told Kim that she had been invited to the actual wedding, Kim had showed up the next day with a dress and a big smile on her face, unwilling to let Elly look at it. “It’s a surprise.”
Here in the hottest van in the entire universe, Elly let out a gasp when she unzipped the plastic. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a gown. Draped navy linen drew high over her neck and crisscrossed in the back, which would show Elly’s bare shoulders. A tiny band of jewels circled under her breasts, tapering in the dress at the top, but leaving the bottom to flow freely. The navy slowly cascaded down into a billowy skirt that hit Elly right at her feet. “Kim, you are the best!” murmured Elly as she pulled the impossibly soft fabric over her head. Of course it fit her perfectly. Of course.
She looked around for shoes. “Oh no … no….” Elly spun around. There were no shoes. Of course. OF COURSE. Here she was, wearing the most-gorgeous dress she had ever seen, and she only had one pair of shoes. Her Crocs. Hesitantly, Elly slipped them on under her dress. At least they were beige she told herself. Right? She nudged a toe out. The sight of a rubber shoe poking out from under the finest silk was physically repulsive. Not that she had much choice. Elly shrugged. This was her outfit. Better get used to it.
Moving carefully so she didn’t step on the dress, Elly climbed over the passenger seat and into the driver’s seat. Just the effort of getting dressed in a hot van had made her even more tired, and for a minute, Elly allowed herself the fantasy of going home and retreating to her bedroom with a cold glass of milk and a handful of Oreos. The fantasy didn’t last. What if Lola needed her, the way she had the other night? She was Elly’s client, and that was the promise of Posies to each and every bride—that they would make their day beautiful. If it meant smacking drugs out of her hand while she adjusted her bouquet, so be it. This was Lola’s day, not Elly’s, and not Gemma’s.
Blowing a curl of hair out of her eyes, Elly gunned the engine of her impossibly sexy van and began rumbling her way back to the farmhouse that had been made to look like a hotel.
Three men in impeccable white linen suits were shutting the door when Elly arrived, disheveled and hot. She practically ran for the door, and then slowed to a dignified walk (she hoped) and said, “I am also a celebrity, here for the celebrity wedding.”
The men stopped her and expressed disbelief that Elly, Lola’s florist, had actually been invited to the event. Finally, Elly got the hulking blond beefcake to call inside, and it took ten minutes, but finally, they cracked the door for her. A gruff man grabbed her arm when she turned the corner. “The ceremony has started. I will take you to where you can watch without disturbing the event.”