Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Hmm. In hindsight, maybe there was more bridezilla left in her than I’d thought.
“You hit her?” She sat back on her heels and stared up at me, two pins stuck between her teeth.
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to hit a bridezilla, but she’s the only one who was my sister.” I smirked. “Besides, Mrs. Michaels is going to look over what you’ve done, and if there are any minor issues, my grandmother is a master seamstress herself and will be able to fix it.”
“What if there are major issues?”
“Oh, I can’t help you there.”
She laughed again, and I could see the tension she’d been holding just wash away from her, and she got to work in a much happier manner than she had before.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t get stabbed with a safety pin again.
Those things were small, but shit, they hurt.
Thankfully, Monica managed to get through the rest of my fitting without stabbing me with her pins, and she unbuttoned the back of the emerald green gown before leaving so that I could get out of it without ripping it.
Thankfully.
I might have done that before.
Not with this dress, but a dress.
All right.
It was my prom dress. Now that had been an emergency sewing session with two days before the actual event. Nana might have held that over my head for a while.
I said goodbye to Monica and Mrs. Michaels and left the house. There was one more fitting to go for us all, and I wasn’t looking forward to that being all the bridesmaids.
Sometimes, you just couldn’t get over a girl stealing your boyfriend when you were thirteen, and it’d been killing me to be nice to Colleen Cates through this planning and my sister’s hen party.
Alas, she was one of Hazel’s best friends, and it’d been more than a little sweet from my perspective when she’d found out that I was the maid of honour.
Look.
You were never too old to be petty.
At least privately petty.
I got in my car and pulled away from the side of the road where I’d parked. I had to go back home and call the caterers to confirm the final numbers for the wedding party as the RSVP time had just finished, and then I needed to make plans to meet Julian in a nearby town to make sure he and his groomsmen’s suits were perfect.
At that their ties were just the right shade of green.
Hazel had been adamant that they match our dresses perfectly, and yes, I did have a swatch of the fabric to make sure they matched.
I didn’t know how they wouldn’t.
Nana had sewn the ties, for goodness’s sake.
It was fine.
I had faith that it would be fine.
I stopped at the lights and blew out a long breath. I was really missing my home office. I hated working from my bedroom or kicking my grandparents out of any room in the house. Although it was technically mine, I didn’t know if it would ever not be “their” house to me. It was the one they’d had my entire life, and given that they still lived there, it was still theirs.
In my mind, anyway.
Maybe they wouldn’t mind if I stole the formal dining room for the next few weeks.
We never used it anyway, and I’d make sure my stuff was out before Christmas so we could all eat there.
I checked the clock on the car. I had a lot of time before I had to call the caterers, so I took a right into the village instead of going straight home. I wanted another one of those hot chocolates from the café, and Nana had mentioned how gorgeous Beth’s wreaths were from the florist shop, so I would stop by there and buy one for the front door since we didn’t have one.
I parked in one almost overflowing carpark as a chill ran through the air. It’d been a while since I’d really experienced proper snow, but the northern girl in me knew it was coming. I could taste it in the air—there was an iciness to it that said it was imminent.
And not that silly, floaty, dusty stuff we’d had yesterday when I’d been to the tree farm.
This snow would stick.
Maybe not for long and maybe it wouldn’t be enough for a proper snowman, but it would be real, thick flakes.
The warning of what was to come, if you would.
I adjusted my scarf around my neck, tugged my coat zip up a little higher, and trudged across the square to the café. There was no Thomas here today, thankfully, and I ordered my hot chocolate, a second for Beth, plus a big box of fresh cookies that I knew wouldn’t last five minutes.
I was eating the Maltesers one in the car.
Maybe a second one… or a third.
I was hungry, all right?
I looped the handles of the paper café bag over my arm and wandered through the village to Beth’s florist. I’d seen her beautiful door wreaths when I was in there yesterday going over Hazel’s wreath centrepieces, and I knew exactly which one Nana would love.