One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(46)

The thing keeping me in the dress, versus clinging to civilian clothes like a last lifeline to sanity, was that there was no mirror in the bathroom stall—only shiny gray metal walls that reflected blinding pink back at me. Everything around me glowed.

Cringing with a mixture of post-traumatic anxiety and utter embarrassment, I opened the stall. There was a giant mirror outside, spanning from wall to wall above the sinks, and reflected in it were three other miserable faces staring back at me in a matching sisterhood of hot pink.

Kristen gave me a defeated look. “We look like neon signs.”

I burst out laughing, which was better than crying. And because I felt so much better after the release, I decided I needed to not be alone tonight. With my thoughts of the past running rampant more than usual, it would take regular hits of hilarity to keep me out of my head,

In my sessions with Abigail, I’d dealt with the crushing blow of being dumped at the altar by neutralizing the importance of the event with the value of new friendships I’d made. And surviving tonight’s event would hopefully prove how far I’d come—that the knee-jerk feelings were nothing more than overreactions to harmless triggers.

Finding inner strength, I vowed to obliterate those mental land mines one at a time.

Starting with the bridesmaid dresses.

Feeling brave, I looped an arm in Kendall’s as the four of us made our way out of the bathroom sitting area. “Let’s do this.”

We stepped out into the main room, which was done up just like a funeral viewing, from the spray of flowers at the front to the rows of uncomfortable-looking chairs. And of course, there was a huge ornate cross up on the dais, but then again, we were in a church.

Okay, this isn’t so bad. It’s a funeral.

After a quick scan of the room, I saw Cade. He looked miserable until the moment his gaze locked onto mine. Then he dropped his head, slumping in shame.

I burst out laughing.

Drawn to him, I crossed the room without a second thought. “Nice tie.”

He tugged at the bright collar at his neck, grumbling, “Don’t forget the cummerbund.”

“That’s nothing. Look at me.” I plucked at the shiny, pink fabric. “Isn’t this the most ghastly thing ever to be called a dress? It’s a monstrosity in taffeta.”

He backed up a step, making a show of visually drinking in my entire body from head to toe. “I don’t know, Maestro. All I see is a burlap bag.” His eyes flickered with heat. “And petticoats.”

My legs bounced with sudden excitement, and I forced air out of my lungs on a slow exhale. Cade did things to me—heated, body-rocking, mind-spinning things—and I wanted unlimited amounts of that kind of medicine tonight.

How ironic. I wanted some of Cade’s wild-and-crazy to calm me.

“I need you tonight, Cade. This whole” —I gestured frantically to my outfit, then his— “getup is freaking me out a little.”

He put firm hands on my shoulders, staring hard at me. “A little?”

I thought about the great strides I’d made in therapy and how what I believed became reality. I was stronger than a bridesmaid dress. I’d learned how to separate my present from my past in therapy, and there was no way I was going to let all of that progress unravel now.

Tonight, in a bright pink bridesmaid dress, I made a vow to myself to enjoy the present moment.

I tilted my head and shook it. “No, I’m okay. Even if what I’m wearing is a travesty.”

He pulled me closer and held me against his solid chest, wrapping his arms around me. “But I liked the whole ‘I need you’ part. What if I never leave your side tonight? Would that help?”

I nodded.

“Done.” He pulled back. “So to clarify the details, if I have to lift and hold your petticoats while you pee, will you lift and hold something when it’s my turn?” Wicked eyes glittered down at me.

I gaped. “You are not lifting anything of mine while I pee.”

“But I’m never leaving your side tonight.”

I cast him a sidelong glance, grumbling, “What did I just agree to?”

He chuckled, flagging down a waiter who held a tray of filled Champagne glasses. “Something very interesting from my point of view.” He grabbed two glasses. “Here, drink up. The night is young, and I intend to accompany you to no less than three bathroom trips.”

I jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “Pig.”

He coughed until his shoulders shook from laughter.

I swiped a glass from his hand and glared at him while I drank down the liquid courage, not yet caring that it would make his petticoat-lifting wishes come true.

He slid his hands into his pants pockets, rocking back on his heels, as the corners of his lips twitched. “Actually, I’ve been told I’m hung like a horse.”

I sputtered, choking on my Champagne.

He grinned. “Care to confirm?” He chugged his glass, a crime with the ten-dollars-per-swallow Cristal. “I’ll keep up with you. Then we’ll each fulfill our end of the bargain. Lift and hold. Keep practicing the technique in your mind.”

“I am not holding…there’s no way I’m touching…”

Cade grinned and leaned down, brushing his lips along my jawline. His hot breath fanned an erotic path up the side of my neck until a kiss caressed my ear. “My massive cock?”