I smile subtly at her comment and gaze at my reflection. My chest tightens at the sight of myself. Me, in a wedding gown, and I look amazing. Crap. I’m covered in lace from my detailed halter down to my train. I was never a fan of lace, but right now, standing in this dress, I’m a huge fan. A clicking sound comes from behind me and I turn to see Juls taking a picture of me with her phone. “What the hell?”
“Oh, relax. I won’t send it to any sexy CPAs or anything. It’s just for us.” I can’t imagine what would happen if Reese got a hold of that picture. He’d probably freak the fuck out and end things for sure. Talk about being clingy. “Seriously, Dylan, look at us.” Juls hops up onto my pedestal and grabs my hand, linking it with hers. Besides the fact that we are both standing in wedding gowns, humorously, we’re complete opposites in appearance. Juls with her dark brown, straight hair and me with my uber blonde, naturally wavy mess, her piercing blue eyes contrast with my wide brown ones that seem to take up the majority of my face, and she’s a good three inches taller than me as I stand up on my toes to bring me up to her five foot nine height. “Goof. I’m getting married, Dyl.”
“You are and I’m not, so I’m getting the fuck out of this thing.” She giggles as I hop down and slip back into my dressing room. But before I take it off, I admire myself alone for a brief moment. I’ve never given much thought to getting married. Having only been in one serious relationship, Justin never appealed to me as the marrying kind, which now seems ironic since he is married. Just not happily, or faithfully. But standing in this dress right now, for the first time in my life, I can picture myself walking down the aisle toward the one person I want to spend my life with. And before I can put a face to that one person, I slip out of the dress and back into reality.
After saying goodbye to Juls and her sister, I spend the rest of the day keeping myself busy with a massive amount of baking. Seven dozen muffins, six batches of cookies, and an assortment of pastries later, I finally slip upstairs and crash, passing out immediately.
I wake up cranky and miserable on Sunday morning, having experienced one of the shittiest nights of sleep I’ve ever had. I tossed and turned all night, my usual dreams of Reese and I together replaced with him and a string of women with red hair who he’s fucking relentlessly. I wake up constantly, drenched in sweat and when I pass back out, another redhead replaces the previous one. I chalk it up to the fact that I haven’t seen or heard from him since Friday afternoon and I’m in desperate need of my fix. But he hasn’t called me or texted and I have no fucking clue how to interpret that. Coming from a man who pursued the shit out of me, sending me sweet notes and packages, and texting me daily. And now, nothing. Panic runs through me that I’ve actually royally fucked this up by telling him I needed time to think. But time to think doesn’t mean leave me alone. It just means what it means. That I’ve been thinking, which I have, and I’m done.
I’ve decided I’m done being pissy over the photos I received Friday because it’s not doing me any good. It wasn’t his fault and knowing him, I’m sure he’s dealt with that spiteful bitch to prevent any future deliveries from her. I have no right to be mad or jealous about his previous hook ups, especially since we’re not serious. And I’ve also decided I’m okay with that. This is what Reese wants, the only thing he does, and I’m having fun doing it with him. I refuse to let my emotions screw this up because this, what we’re doing, is the best thing I’ve ever done with a man. He’s sweet and fun and hot as hell. And he chose me. Of all the girls lining up, he chose me. What we’re doing is enough for him and it can be enough for me. I don’t need to be in a serious relationship to be happy; I’ve never been this happy before in my life. The sound of my phone ringing sends me sprinting up the stairs where I plugged it in before I decided to organize my pantry. Disappointment runs through me as Juls’ names flashes across my screen.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Can you meet me, like right now, sweets? I really need to talk to someone and I want it to be you.” She sounds upset. Juls never sounds upset.
“Yeah, of course. Where?”
“The coffee shop on West Elm okay? I’m only five minutes away.”
“Okay, I’m leaving now.”
I hang up and dress quickly, grabbing my keys and locking up behind me as I dash around the corner where I keep Sam parked. Juls’ voice is really worrying me and I want to get to her as fast as I can. She’s never upset. Her two favorite emotions are elated happiness, which is frequent lately after Ian came into her life, and pissed off hurricane Juls mode. The drive to Brocks Coffee Shop is a short distant from the bakery and I park behind her black Escalade, hopping out quickly and dashing into the building. I spot her at a table in the corner, her dainty hands wrapped around a coffee cup.
“Hey. Sorry if you’ve been waiting long. Fucking traffic.”
“No, I just sat down. Do you want something to drink?” Typical Juls, always concerned about other people and not what’s bothering her. God, love her for it.