Three hard raps on the door startled us both. “Goddammit, Georgie! Get your ass out here. It’s time,” her father shouted from the other side.
“Just a minute, Dad!” she called back.
“Ah, shit. You’ve even got Dick mad,” I teased.
“He’s just mad because I’m marrying the man of his dreams.”
We both laughed. It was one hundred percent the truth. Dick Cummings was in love with his soon-to-be son-in-law. He thought Kline walked on water. And after Georgia accepted his proposal, we later found out when Kline had asked her dad for his blessing, Dick had responded,
“Are you sure you want to do that, son? Georgie’s a bit of a ballbuster.”
Not, “You better protect my baby girl.” Or, “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
Nope. He had basically given him an out, or tried to keep Kline for himself, however you wanted to look at it.
“Finished!” She tossed the pen down and stood up, fluffing her dress. “How do I look?” she asked, taking one last glance at herself in the floor length mirror.
“Like the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” Because she did. Georgia was absolutely stunning.
She turned toward me, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. “Don’t start. If you start crying, then I’ll start crying.”
“I’m not!” My face contorted into that awful expression you get when you’re trying to hold back sobs.
“Goddammit, Cass!” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
The processional music started to filter into the bridal room, and we both looked at each other with Oh, shit! expressions.
“Georgia! It’s time!” her mother sing-songed from the other side of the door.
“Am I really getting married today?” she asked, bewildered, taking the bouquet of white lilies from my outstretched hand.
“Yeah, sweet cheeks, you’re really getting married. My little, virginal best friend is all grown up. Marrying the man of her dad’s dreams.”
She giggled, flipping me the bird in a way only my best friend could pull off in a wedding dress. It was a beautiful dress—elegant mermaid cut with a small train. And it was simple yet blinged out with tiny clear crystals sewn into the bridal-white material.
Georgia had found it at a vintage store—big surprise—in Chicago, when we went there for a girls’ weekend. It was Vera Wang, which was all Kline’s doing. He’d made sure she spent a boatload of money on her dress, refusing to let her come back in the house unless she had drained at least several thousand dollars from their bank account.
Yes, their bank account. Even though she refused to sign his ridiculous contract and was adamant on keeping her new job with the Mavericks, he’d made sure to add her to all of his accounts right after she’d said yes. And he’d done this without the cushion of a prenup.
If that didn’t tell you he was more than sure she was the one, I didn’t know what would.
Before we walked out of the bridal suite, I wrapped her up in a tight hug.
“I’m so happy for you. You deserve all of this happiness and then some.”
“I love you, Cass.”
“I love you too. Now, let’s go get you hitched!” I hooted, opening the door.
The wedding party was small, but it was perfect for them. Wes, Thatch, and Will were Kline’s groomsmen, while Dean and I were Georgia’s bridesmaids.
I walked down the aisle with Dean and took my place on the opposite side of the groomsmen. I couldn’t help but notice the intrigued yet slightly salacious smile I received from Thatch. I assumed it was my tits’ doing because my cleavage looked pretty damn fantastic in the little black dress Georgia had chosen for me.
And I didn’t miss how delicious Thatch looked in his tux. I eye-fucked that Jolly Green Giant for a moment, moving from his brown eyes, to the broad shoulders filling out his jacket like they fucking owned the joint, to the noticeable bulge—not, I’m the weirdo with a boner at a wedding bulge, but I’m packing bulge—in his pants, and then back to his mouth.
Man oh man, those lips looked like they could do things (to my puss-ay).
Hey, cool your jets. It doesn’t count as wedding inappropriate if it’s in parentheses.
Seriously, I’d Thatch that.
The quartet of violins and harps Georgia hired for the ceremony music abruptly stopped. I glanced around, not sure what was happening. This definitely wasn’t on her schedule.
Kline looked toward the side of the room and nodded at a woman with a guitar. She smiled, adjusted the microphone near her mouth, and started to strum a song that wasn’t the planned “Bridal Chorus.”
The crowd stood, turning toward the back doors.