Page 27 of The Flight Risk

“Sure,” Lottie says, not seeming to register the tone I’m emitting.

Oakley does, though. He puts the unused and unneeded glass back in the cabinet and shuts the door with a little more force than normal.

“I can’t,” he says, clipped. “I have an early afternoon game today. Need to leave here in a bit. You two have fun.”

15

“Ithink that is the one, Brooke,” Lottie says excitedly, bopping up and down on the cushion next to me, while sipping on a fluted glass of sparkling apple cider.

“Lottie, you’ve said this about every single dress I’ve tried on.” Brooke laughs as she twists on the golden raised circle in front of a very large mirror. The sales consultant is fluffing up the train of the poofy princess ball gown.

“Doesn’t make it any less true. But, real talk, Tristan would marry you in a potato sack,” Lottie adds.

I finish my second glass of champagne and set it down on the side table. I sink back into the light blue couch with gold claw feet and agree, “That’s probably true.”

Brooke booked this appointment months ago at a prestigious bridal boutique in Dallas. It’s the nicest building I’ve ever been in. White marble floors, crystal chandeliers, gold accents at every turn. Racks and racks of designer dresses fill up every available space, but the place still seems extremely spacious. White and gold are everywhere I turn. It’s like the Kleinfeld’s of Dallas.

It’s classic and chic. Just like my best friend.

Brooke smiles. “If Tristan had any say, we would have gone to the courthouse the morning after he proposed. But he knew how much weddings mean to me and told me to get whatever I want. Dress included.”

“Smart man. Honestly, even though you are a fucking queen, I don’t think this princess style dress is the look you envisioned. Too many layers. You need to show off your curves, girl.” I turn to the consultant and ask, “Excuse me, by chance do you all have anything in a bright pink color?”

The consultant’s eyes widen and she stutters, clearly frazzled. I can guarantee she’s never had a question like that thrown at her before. “Well, um, that’s not the standard, but we can definitely see if we can special order one…”

Brooke interrupts, “She’s kidding. Pink is my favorite color and is one of my wedding colors. My maid of honor decided to bring all the comedy today.” Brooke meets my eyes through the mirror and mouths “Stop” while smiling.

The consultant nods and takes my empty glass. “Would you like another glass, ma’am?”

“Yes, please. And please bring another for the bride.”

“Be right back.” She scurries off, a vision in all black.

Brooke places her hands on her hips. “Okay, there’s one more dress I want to try on and I have a really good feeling about this one. Thank you both for being so patient.”

“We could literally be here all day, Brooke. We are not in a rush.”

The consultant comes back with the two glasses of champagne and helps Brooke down from the pedestal. Brooke disappears into the changing room, leaving Lottie and me on the couch with the soothing sounds of Frank Sinatra playing on the speakers overhead.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Then Lottie clears her throat.

“So…” Lottie shifts her body to face me.

I raise my eyebrows. “So…what?”

“Are we not going to talk about what happened the other day between you and Oakley?”

I’ve been avoiding that topic like the plague. I don’t know if I’m willing to go there yet. But I guess Lottie catching us after the hottest makeout session of my life means I don’t get to push this under the rug any longer. Internally, I’m kicking and screaming. I may be almost thirty, but I don’t want to be an adult about this. How I’m feeling about Oakley are most definitely feelings I haven’t felt since my first crush–in middle school. I’m not ready to tell Lottie that I can’t stop thinking about his dimples. Or his hands. Or his lips. Or his hard chest. Or another very hard part of his body.

“Nope, because there is nothing to talk about, Lottie.”

“Really? Because I would say that Oakley having your lipstick smeared all over his handsome face, while looking extremely frazzled, is definitely something we should talk about.”

“Excuse me?!” Brooke’s voice screeches from behind the dressing room curtain. She pulls apart the curtain like she’s the surprise at the end of some elaborate magic trick. The poor consultant is attempting to finish zipping the dress up as Brooke stomps over to the couch.

I haven’t had the chance to fill in Brooke about what happened between me and Oakley. I meant to text her right after it all went down, but got distracted. I hope she doesn’t revoke my Maid of Honor card. “Your lipstick was smeared all over his face?! Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Lottie is exaggerating. And I started to text you but got pulled away and forgot.”