The wedges are still steaming, their deep-fried aroma intermingling with the scent of sour cream and the sweet chilli sauce. I tear my eyes away and focus instead on Penny’s Chihuahua who’s watching me with ears perked up.
“So, do you know why Isabella called an emergency meeting?” She’d messaged me from London earlier, asking me to come here after work.
Penny shrugs. “You want something to drink? I’m having Skinny Bitch cocktails.” She offers me a glass which, on this sweltering summer evening, temptingly has condensation on it.
I take a step back. “Just water or a diet soft drink, please?”
She purses her lips, raising a brow at me. “Last time I saw you, you were drinking like a fish. You pregnant or something?”
“No. Just a new New Year’s resolution. Got on the wagon.” And started a new diet, of course. It’s already February and I’m still on track for both—so I’m doing better than I ever have before.
“Diet Coke okay?”
Penny goes to the little kitchen near the front door and pours me a glass of the fizzy drink. Handing it to me, she heads straight for her expensive laptop. She taps the touch pad and within moments, Isabella’s smiling face fills up the screen.
“Hi, guys! Anything new in Australia?” Her British accent is stronger than ever. Behind her, I spot a pile of rumpled pillows, and an antique-looking headboard of wrought iron and dark wood. “Hey, where are the others?”
“It’s the middle of the week, and it’s Valentine’s Day, chick,” Penny says. “Mia and Fiona have lives.”
“Oh right.” Isabella looks to the right, arms outstretched. “Babe, come here. Say hi to the girls.”
A few seconds later, the gorgeous Byron McAllister is beside her on their bed. His wavy blond hair is short all over except on top, his beard-slash-face-fuzz closely trimmed. Half-British and half-American, he grew up in sunny Australia, and looks ready to freeze in London’s February temps in a green, heavy woollen jumper that makes his eyes even greener.
“Hi, ladies,” he says with a wave, and the easy smile of the in lurve.
“Hi, Jail Bait,” Penny and I chorus his nickname.
Byron blushes as we chuckle, and Isabella clamps her lips together to supress her own smile. It’s a running joke we’ve had since high school because Keats McAllister’s brother is two years younger than all of us.
“You guys will have to stop calling my fiancé that!” Isabella scratches the bridge of her nose with her left ring finger, flashing us an antique-looking engagement ring with a little solitaire, heart-shaped diamond.
“Wow,” I say through my shock. Isabella and I never had boyfriends in high school. How can she be engaged again already?
Penny squeals and starts asking questions. I barely pay attention to what she’s saying. All I can see is Keats’ brother with his arm around Isabella, smiling ear to ear as he watches her tell us the details of how they got engaged this morning, London time.
“Are you pregnant?” I ask. She looks tired and plumper than the last time I saw her.
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
Byron sits up and looks at her, but instead of a head-for-the-hills cringe, he actually smiles like the prospect of having little rug rats is a good thing.
“So, we’re thinking of getting married the day after Byron’s uni finishes for the year. It’ll maximise our time together before I head back here for work.” Isabella touches his cheek gently. Her eyes and expression go all soft before she refocusses on us. “Anyway, that makes it Saturday the sixteenth of November this year! And you guys, as well as Mia and Fiona, will be my bridesmaids, of course!”
Excitement floods me—a chance to dress up—mixed with a sense of pride that I made the cut. But then reality sets in, and bursts my bubble when I realise I can’t attend her nuptials.
“I can’t afford to go to England,” Not if I want to put a deposit down in time for a house.
Isabella’s grin grows wider, if that’s possible. “That’s okay. We’re getting married in Brisbane, then honeymooning in Vanuatu,” she explains, and the tightness in my chest loosens.
Penny awws and does a little fingertip-clap, while I start breathing normally again. I can’t believe how much I want to be part of this wedding. Probably because I don’t know anyone else who’d make me a bridesmaid in her Big Day. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me.
“I’ll be returning to Australia a couple of times before the wedding to prepare for it,” Isabella tells us. “But I can’t really quit my job here till at least the end of next year.”
Oh yes, the blacklisting of Isabella Harper for consorting with Keats McAllister—a rep for the other side of an acquisition deal they both worked on last year. When the deal went sour, Isabella was made the scapegoat and lost her job in corporate law in Brisbane. And that’s what she’s doing now in London—rebuilding her reputation while the heat dies down here.
“Byron’s flying home next week to start his Vet Science course at uni, but since he’s at Gatton, he won’t be in town to organise the wedding either,” Isabella tells us.
Byron gives us a little wave before kissing his fiancée’s temple and walking away. I wonder how he feels about their soon-to-be long-distance relationship.
“Anyway, that’s where this whole bridesmaids’ duties thing becomes important.” Isabella flashes us a hopeful smile, her dark eyes wide and pleading. “I kind of need you guys to help me organise wedding stuff because I’m all the way over here. I promise you can have large input into your dresses.”
Princess Penny blanches at the mention of
