Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(40)

“And it will be.”

She heaves a happy sigh. “I could live in this gown.”

“You’ve tried it on so many times, I think you might.” Setting down my mimosa, I cross to a nearby mannequin where a beautiful, cascading sample veil is on display. I trace one finger down the delicate lace needlework. “What exactly is the function of a veil?”

“It’s symbolic of chastity and virginity.” She tilts her head. “But since that ship sailed long ago, I’m just wearing one because I think they’re beautiful.”

“Huh. I always thought they were to hide an ugly girl from her groom in arranged marriages, so he couldn’t back out until it was too late.” I drop my hand from the embroidery. “Or maybe to weigh down an unwilling bride, so she couldn’t run away.”

Phoebe snorts. “Romantic.”

“That’s me. Queen of romance.”

“Speaking of…” Her eyes narrow. “Are you bringing a date to the wedding? You were supposed to tell me weeks ago. I love you dearly, but there’s only so many times I’m willing to rearrange the bridal party table. If you don’t fill your extra seat, we’re going to have an odd number during dinner.”

“The horror!”

She ignores me, fully focused on visions of her seating chart. “I suppose I could bump my great aunt Mindy…but she’s has cataracts in both eyes and never has any idea who she’s talking to, which could potentially make for awkward dinner conversation…”

“Poor Mindy. Bumped from the family table?” I shake my head. “She’ll never even see it coming.”

Phoebe refocuses on me. “Was that a blind joke?”

“Of course not.” I smile. “I’d never resort to such visionless humor.”

She shakes her head in disapproval.

I sigh. “Jokes aside — I have no idea who I’m bringing to the wedding. I haven’t really been seeing anyone lately.”

Phoebe’s mouth drops open.

“What?” I ask, voice defensive. “What’s the look for?”

“It’s just a bit out of character, that’s all.” Her head tilts to the side as she examines me like I’m a stranger, instead of her best friend since kindergarten. “You always have a line of eligible male suitors clamoring to escort you to fashionable events all across this fine city. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I take another sip of my mimosa. “Just haven’t been in the dating mood recently, I suppose.”

“You? Not in the dating mood?”

“Don’t slut-shame. It’s passé.”

“I wasn’t! I was just pointing out that, in the two decades I’ve known you, I’ve never witnessed a time when you didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a potential boyfriend. Or a recently-dumped ex-boyfriend.”

“So, I’m overdue for a solo period.” I shrug, striving for a nonchalant tone. “Don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

Her eyes narrow. “So, there’s no one in the picture.”

“Nope.”

“No one at all.”

“What part of nope was unclear?” My pulse picks up speed. “There’s no hidden agenda here, Phoebe. I’m single. Flying solo. Channeling my inner Cheryl Strayed in Wild…. But without the drugs or the hiking.”

“You didn’t even like that book,” she reminds me. “And you only saw the movie because you have a girl crush on Reese Witherspoon.”

“Truer words, never spoken. Hey, speaking of Reese, do you want to go see her new rom-com with me—”

“Don’t try to change the subject.” Phoebe pins me with a look. “Why do I get the sense you’re keeping something from me?”

“Maybe you’ve breathed too many nail polish fumes, it’s making you delusional.”

“Uh huh. This sudden…” She waggles a finger at me. “Dry spell… wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain redhead, would it?”

I blink vacantly, to cover the sudden thumping of my heart. “Ed Sheeran?”

“No.”

“Rupert Grint?”

“No.”

“Sam Heughan?”

“God, I wish. That kilt! Yum,” she murmurs, then recovers herself. “But, again, no.”

“Well, then I have no idea who you’re referring to.”

“You do so,” she insists. “In fact, you denying to know who I’m talking about only reinforces my belief that this — you, suddenly impersonating a nun — has something to do with him.”

The tempo of my heartbeat kicks up a notch. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Because, I’m pretty sure, as your best friend in the entire universe, I know you better than anyone. And whenever I mention Luca Buchanan, you act…”

My brows lift.

“Strange,” she finishes lowly.

“Strange?”

“Twitchy. Flustered. Uncoordinated. Almost… unrecognizable.”

“Gee, thanks!” I roll my eyes. “Maybe I’m strange around him because I don’t like the man! He’s arrogant and insufferable.”