Bri smiled at her friend, hoping she didn’t pick up on her distraction. She owed Casey her full attention. “I think you look like a princess.”
“Thanks! Hmm. Maybe make that a mermaid princess.” Casey smoothed her slim hips, the fabric of the dress hugging tight until halfway down her leg, where it cascaded into a mass of snowy white fabric onto the platform where she stood. The gown was gorgeous on her, and perfect for her narrow frame. “Hair up or down?” She bundled her brunette tresses up in one hand and pursed her lips.
“Down,” Bri and the seamstress said at the same time.
Mrs. Bonnie, who’d been doing alterations in Story ever since Bri needed her first smocked Easter dresses hemmed, fluffed the fabric of the short train and stood back to assess. She fisted her hands on her ample hips and gave a brisk nod. “Yes. Down will balance the flare at the legs. Maybe some curls?”
“My hair hasn’t held curl since my high school prom.” Casey wrinkled her nose, then pulled the sides of her hair back and squinted into the giant gold mirror. “Wait. Maybe like this?”
“Perfect.” Bri held her hands up like a camera and viewed Casey through her “finger lens.” “That’d be really pretty. Elegant but still looks like you.”
“Good.” Casey let her hair go and twirled one more time with a satisfied smile. “I definitely don’t want Nathan to feel like he’s marrying a stranger.”
Bri watched Mrs. Bonnie fuss over the dress, her unease growing—both from Casey’s comment and her own hesitations over her friends’ fast-developing romance. It wasn’t just the timeline—people got married after knowing each other only a few months all the time. It was more the concern of what did Casey and Nathan really know about true love yet? Wasn’t romance a lot more than messy dinners with kids and rushed weddings because of tight work schedules? Didn’t Casey want more than that? Bri did.
But perhaps Casey felt like time was passing, and she was giving up on the dream. Settling, in a way. Not that Nathan was a bad guy, but maybe it was more like wanting to make sure she got her chance before she—and her kids—got any older.
She could certainly understand that kind of pressure.
Casey performed a little test cha-cha on the platform to see if her dress allowed room to dance. Her eyes shone and her skin glowed with happiness. No, more like giddiness. “He’s going to love it, isn’t he?” It was a statement more than a question, but Mrs. Bonnie murmured her agreement anyway as she secured one of the tiny buttons on the back of the dress.
Bri swallowed. Who was she kidding? Casey wasn’t settling in the least. Nathan was her dream guy, the perfect fit for her family. She was happy for her friend.
Maybe her doubts were just projecting from inside her own heart.
Casey’s phone trilled, and with an excited shriek, she hiked up her dress and rushed to grab it from her purse in the dressing room stall. Bri scrambled to help her, holding up her train on one side as Casey plucked the cell from her bag. Mrs. Bonnie, frowning, held the rest of the material off the ground.
“Hello?” Casey’s breathless voice hitched with hope. Then her eyes lit. “Hey, babe.” She started to pace a slow circle as Bri and Mrs. Bonnie followed. Then Casey palmed the receiving end and tucked the phone briefly under her chin. “He misses me.” She squealed before going back to the conversation.
Yeah, they were going to be fine.
Bri shook her head with a smile and maintained Casey’s train as her friend absently stalked the dressing room, whispering mush into the phone. Humility was a tough bite to digest. Bri had always thought she was the know-it-all in romance, riding the coattails of her parents’ legacy—an expert by default, a student of the greatest teachers in their generation.
Until that letter in the attic.
She sobered. One smudge, and everything Bri thought she knew now hung by a thread. That wasn’t Casey’s fault, and if Bri wasn’t careful, she’d let this funk she found herself in mar her friend’s perfect day.
She watched a blush crawl up Casey’s cheeks as her friend whispered something privately into the phone. Maybe Casey was onto something. Maybe romance wasn’t as flawless as Bri had always assumed. Casey and Nathan were in love—and wasn’t that the most romantic thing of all? Spaghetti stains and toddler fingerprints and messy proposals included?
Motorcycles and sarcasm and hard truths included?
Her arms holding the train lowered. Her idea nudged again, this time growing in appeal, like cake batter slowly rising in a warm oven. Maybe she didn’t know what romantic love really was yet, and maybe some of her hopes in that department were a little idealistic.
But she did know neighborly love, as Gerard had pointed out to her yesterday. The idea, now fully baked, buzzed like an oven timer, and the decision was made.
She had a special delivery to make.
A knock sounded on his bedroom door.
Gerard swung his legs off the side of the bed with a sigh, discarding his open laptop on the red comforter.
Another knock, more urgent.
“Hold on.” He tripped over the red rug on the floor and bit back frustrated words. It was probably Mrs. Beeker again, offering more sweet tea or some other excuse for conversation. He’d chatted amicably enough for as long as he could stand, then he’d told her he really needed to work on his article before he went to sleep.
Not that he had anything to write about until after Casey’s wedding—and possibly after Charles’s next move. Maybe the two would coincide—maybe the prissy lawyer would get the guts to show up and create something worth writing about. He really needed to hit a home run with part two of the feature, or he couldn’t guarantee that Peter would promote him.
He swung open the door, ready
