“Good night, and may the stars shower good dreams on you.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze and returned to his car, humming a tune I couldn’t quite catch.
Barely eleven o’clock and he didn’t try to invite himself in? Dallas might be reserved and a bit cautious, but he had definitely just scored some major points in my book.
With a hand on my freshly kissed cheek, I moved through my home, trying to analyze my feelings about Dallas. I started to get ready for bed, but after I slipped into my comfy pajamas, I knew I was too keyed up to sleep. Natalie’s wedding dress still needed my attention. Maybe I could think about my potential love life while I finished taking out the hem and figured out what to do with those rocks in my quilt.
On my way out of my bedroom, I paused, lifting the silver-framed picture of Briette and me at her bridal shower. Her grin was contagious, and my own smile was full of laughter as best friends celebrated childhood dreams of fairy-tale weddings coming true.
The corners of my mouth lifted, but my heart still hurt. “Oh, Briette. I miss you,” I whispered. Swallowing, I set the frame back on my dresser with the hope that she was proud of me for keeping my dream alive. Briette had always been my biggest supporter, and she’d done so much to help me make a name for myself.
After completing my wedding planner certification four years ago, I couldn’t stop pinching myself when I landed a job at the ritzy Bellissima Wedding Dreams in San Francisco. Grueling hours of pampering spoiled brides by fulfilling their every wish eventually earned my place as an assistant to one of the associate wedding planners. Then karma had intervened in my behalf—or so it seemed at the time.
Briette Nelson was engaged to marry Caleb Rice, a southern boy with old money, and his family wanted to spare no expense when it came to the wedding. Briette hired me, her best friend from college, as her wedding planner. The news of her engagement made it into the social sections of the major newspapers, and Bellissima was thrilled. Overnight, I was promoted to the position of associate wedding planner.
Six months of preparation passed as I oversaw every detail of Briette’s bridal showers, gown fittings, flower choices, and twinkle light displays. More accounts piled up with young women hoping to garner Briette’s wedding planner next. The Nelson-Rice wedding would be the highlight of the year for Bellissima.
Tears stung my eyes as I relived the moment that had dammed the course of the river my life had taken. My throat clenched, and even this many months later, it was still hard to swallow when I thought of how Briette was murdered. The sharp pain of sorrow enveloped me as I thought about Briette’s dreams—about her life. Stolen.
Only three days before the big day, I had found Briette strangled and stabbed to death in her wedding gown. There were no suspects. No one was arrested. And someone got away with murder, because even a year later the police didn’t have any leads and were moving the investigation to the cold-case file.
Caleb was trying to come to terms with the fact that he might never see the murderer brought to justice, the person who ripped his happiness away and left an aching hole in both our hearts. I knew I shouldn’t do this to myself, but I still hoped that the killer would be found and punished.
My mind went to those days after the tragedy, even though I resisted the memories. I had collapsed after Briette’s murder. The news surrounding her death, the subsequent cancellations of accounts, and the horrible realization of loss proved too much for me. I packed up and moved back home to Idaho.
With another glance at the picture, I left the room. At least the best parts of Briette would live on. Her cheerful, optimistic attitude crept into my thoughts and reminded me that she wouldn’t be happy to see me dwelling on the sad ending of her life.
I wondered what Briette would think of Dallas. Immediately I knew she would have been sympathetic to his shy nature. She’d consider him adorable, definitely worth several dates because of his quiet charm and chivalrous ways.
My cell phone sang “Marry Me” by Train—Lorea thought it was perfect when it rang at the shop. I wondered who might be calling so late and bit my bottom lip when I saw Dallas’s name float across the screen. My heart fluttered as a tiny thrill of excitement changed my solemn mood.
“Miss me already?” I answered.
A nervous cough preceded his voice. “Uh—yes, actually. Adri, can I see you again tomorrow?”
He liked me, and I surprised myself because I was okay with him liking me enough to ask for a third date less than an hour after dropping me off after our second date. “What time?” I wiggled my toes and watched the purple nail polish shimmer as the fluorescent light in my kitchen reflected off the glitter.
“I, um—I just can’t stop thinking about you,” Dallas stuttered.
I couldn’t help but smile. “I was thinking about you too.”
“Really?”
“You’re a great guy.” And if he had been in front of me at that moment, I would definitely have kissed him for being so genuine. What a change from the arrogant men I’d dated.
“Thanks. I—well, what would you like to do?”
I eyed Natalie’s gown and frowned. It would take nearly two hours to pick out the hem—I couldn’t pull the seams to pop the threads or it would damage the material. I had to undo each and every stitch. “It’ll have to be something fast. I’ll be working past six tomorrow, and
