All of a sudden, it was like the last six months disappeared. Like it always did. Because Renee owned a piece of her heart. Reunions weren’t awkward or uncomfortable; they were like finding an old pair of slippers after a long summer. They were worn, comfortable, and perfectly molded to your feet. She and Renee fit together, and she immediately felt at home.
The group continued talking and moving toward the reception desk, and for the first time since Renee had moved out, Samantha realized she wasn’t losing her best friend. She would still miss her like crazy, would still have to adjust to not seeing her face every day, but you could never lose a person who held a part of your soul. Renee wouldn’t be able to get rid of her even if she tried.
They began talking about the trip, about how different the city was compared to Los Angeles, and Renee stopped. She turned around to look at Tristan and tilted her head. “That reminds me. What happened with the car?” she asked, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. It was a normal question—one that should have been expected after being almost two days late to his sister’s wedding, but he adjusted his stance and looked at Samantha. “Radiator cap. Of all things.”
Renee’s brows furrowed and she looked to Samantha. “And it delayed you for that long?”
Samantha nodded, taking hold of Renee’s hand and squeezing. “That’s what happens when you break down in the middle of Colton, Iowa,” she answered. It wasn’t a lie, but for some reason it felt like one.
They continued walking, catching up on wedding stuff, while Phin escorted them to the reception desk to check into their rooms. Tristan and Phin took the task of checking in the car, while Renee rambled on about this weekend’s itinerary.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” Renee said, playing with the ends of Samantha’s hair.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world—”
Renee interrupted, cracking a grin. “No, I mean the party.”
Samantha narrowed her eyes. “I thought I missed—”
“No.” Renee shook her head. “Phin and I decided to do them together, bachelorette and bachelor all in one.” She got quiet suddenly, then rested her head on Samantha’s shoulder again. “We only get to see you guys for a few days, and splitting up didn’t make any sense.” She turned around to look at her fiancé, causing her face to instantly soften. “I want you to get to know him, Sam. Really know him, and I’m worried we’re going to run out of time.”
Samantha frowned then, and shook her head. “There’s plenty of time…” But she was saying it for her best friend’s benefit, because the moment she thought about the days she had left, a hard knot formed in the bottom of her stomach and made her feel ill.
A buzzing noise began vibrating in Renee’s pocket and she broke away to pull her phone from her pocket. She looked down at the screen then turned toward Samantha. “Betty, my seamstress, she’s waiting for you in my room. I know you’re probably tired, but do you mind if we run over there? I’ll have the guys bring your key when they’re done.” She turned to Phin and Tristan, grabbing hold of each one of their shoulders and lifting up on her toes. “I’m taking Sam. Bring her key to my room when you’re done. Okay? Okay!” Before waiting for an answer, she turned back to Samantha and took hold of her arm again. “I’m a mess. Can you tell?”
They walked arm in arm to the elevator, where Renee told her all about the events leading up to the wedding. About the caterer canceling last minute, about how her future mother-in-law was freaking out. But somehow it all had resolved itself in the end, because some big famous baker was coming into town and agreed to take the job.
They continued on to Renee’s room on the fifth floor, all the way to the end of the long hall. The suite was almost the size of the apartment they’d shared back in LA, although there were twice as many clothes thrown about it.
“Betty!” Renee exclaimed, as she walked into the room.
A woman who looked to be about the age of Samantha’s grandmother turned in her overstuffed seat. She set the pair of pants she was stitching to the arm of the chair and patted her salt-and-pepper bun.
“This,” Renee began, “is my best friend, Samantha.” It was said in a way that said “Finally!” And she pushed Samantha toward the woman like a sacrifice to her maker.
“Ooooh…” the woman said, with a thick Italian accent. “She more beautiful than you say.” She walked toward Samantha and circled her a couple of times before looking up. She then took one of Samantha’s thick blond braids in her palm, and flipped it over. “After we sew, we cut.”
“No, no,” Samantha protested, shaking her head. “No cut.”
Renee only laughed, pushing her forward again. “She means trim, and yes! I bet you haven’t had one in two years.”
Before she could even argue, Betty fetched a garment bag from the back of the door and thrust it into Samantha’s arms. “Put on,” she ordered.
Not wanting to argue with the tiny woman, she nodded, then turned to Renee with her eyes open wide open and did what she was told.
Just as Samantha feared, the dress was too tight. Much too tight. Getting into the thing was like trying to fit a hamburger patty into a hot dog bun. Bits of flesh were sticking out all over the place, but mostly in the top region. Betty circled her in the middle of the room, while Samantha desperately regretted all those pancakes she’d eaten on their trip.
“Okay!” Betty exclaimed. She took hold of each side panel and yanked them together. “One… Two…”
Samantha sucked in her stomach and blew out a breath.
“Three!”
The panels slammed shut behind her, and Renee, who was standing on a chair above her, tugged at the zipper. She made a few grunting noises as she tugged and stretched, while Betty shoved and stuffed Samantha with jabbing fingers. Then all of a sudden, as if the Gods had come out to show their mercy, the zipper flew up. Samantha pulled in a gasping breath, stumbling forward and steadying herself with a nearby chair, before she glanced up at Renee.
A full-length mirror was right in front of her, and her shoulders relaxed when she saw her reflection. It wasn’t half bad. Which honesty surprised the hell out of her. The fabric was a blush color, not pink or peach, but a color somewhere in between. It flattered her skin tone perfectly. There was a silky skirt that draped to the floor, somehow making her look a little taller, but the only thing she didn’t like was the A-framed bodice that pushed her breasts nearly up to her chin. And even that—aside from being completely public inappropriate, made her look gorgeous.
Betty circled a couple of times around the chair, scratching her chin and tugging at bits of the fabric as she went. “Hmmm…” she mumbled, before sticking a few pins in the hem. She came to stand right in front of Samantha. Her tongue tsked off the roof of her mouth as though deciding what to do. Then, as if not having any impulse control whatsoever, she lifted Samantha’s breasts in her hands and started bouncing them.
The door to Renee’s hotel room burst open at that moment, and Tristan and Phin walked in, carrying her bags. They both stopped dead in their tracks.