Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,104

matching red bridesmaid dresses—Nora had chosen them, so of course they were gorgeous. Hazel wore her hair up and had red fingernails to match. Nora’s hair was also pinned up and she’d found the most amazing red lipstick.

Everly had been worried about fitting into her dress after having a baby. But she looked amazing. Little Ella Calloway was already ten months old, and the most beautiful baby in the history of ever. She had her dad’s ice blue eyes and her mom’s pretty blond hair—and sunny disposition. She was the happiest baby, and all her aunties loved her to pieces.

And she had her daddy wrapped around her finger. It was so cute, I could die.

Nora placed the comb that attached to my veil in my hair and made sure it was secure. “There. Perfect.”

I turned and took a few steps to look in the full-length mirror.

“Oh my god. Is that me?”

The woman looking back at me wore a lace wedding gown that flattered my curves perfectly. The neckline dipped just low enough to make my boobs look amazing—if I did say so myself. The bodice accentuated my waist and the skirt flowed over my hips and down to the floor. Beneath the dress, I wore a pair of white flats—comfortable, and I was much less likely to trip in them than if I wore heels.

Okay, so I still might trip. This was me we were talking about.

My veil was simple, cascading down my back from a pearl-trimmed comb that Nora had tucked into my hair. Because sometimes even a girl like me got lucky, I was having the best hair day of my life. My curls looked fantastic in a loose up-do, with just a few framing my face.

I’d never felt more beautiful.

Tears sprang to my eyes and Nora was quick with a tissue.

“I used the best primer I know of, and waterproof mascara, so your makeup isn’t going anywhere,” she said. “But still.”

I took a deep breath and dabbed the corners of my eyes. “I just can’t believe it’s really happening. I mean, I know I already did this once, but I don’t exactly remember it, so…”

“This is the real thing,” Nora said.

Hazel nodded. “Legalities aside, I agree.”

“If Hazel agrees with me, you know I’m right,” Nora said. “That’s how this works.”

“I know; you’re right,” I said. “And I’m so glad you’re all here with me.”

I opened my arms and they all stepped in for a group hug.

“We love you, Soph,” Nora said, her voice a little shaky.

“Thank you. I love you too.”

Nora stepped back and shooed the other two away. “Careful. Let’s not mess her up.”

“You know, Nora, now all three of us have gotten married at this winery,” Everly said, her lips curling in a smile. “When it’s your turn, are you going to continue the tradition?”

Nora scoffed. “Everly, sweetie, you’re so cute when you’re being ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous?” Hazel asked. “This is a lovely place for a wedding.”

“She’s right,” I said. “That’s why we chose it.”

“Come on, girls,” Nora said. “We all know I’m never getting married.”

“You say that now,” Everly said. “But you never know. You might meet the right guy, and then…”

“Well, if I do, and let me assure you that I won’t, I’ll continue the tradition. How’s that?”

“I’ll take it,” Everly said.

Jamie, the wedding coordinator here at Salishan Cellars, knocked and poked her head in. “Hi, ladies. Are you about ready?”

“Yes, we are,” I said. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” Jamie said. “Trust me, this is nothing.”

“All right, Soph,” Everly said. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Sophie Cox?”

I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror one last time. “Yes. I’m ready.”

It had been over a year since our first wedding in Vegas, and we’d stopped the divorce process before it had gotten any farther. So technically we’d been married for a while. But today was the day we were going to celebrate it with our family and friends.

I’d had so much fun planning this wedding. My friends and I had gone dress shopping and done cake tastings and they’d thrown me the best bachelorette party—a weekend at a resort with a luxurious spa. And a lot of champagne.

Now it was time to walk down the aisle in a white dress—the moment I’d been dreaming about for so long.

Jamie led us to the doors that opened to the garden. Music played and guests waited in chairs set up in rows. Neither of us had much