When Stars Collide (Second Chance Romance #2) - Sara Furlong-Burr Page 0,38
the store. At the rate this was going, I was going to need to stand on a step stool for the wedding photos.
I looked around the boutique while Elle and Kirsten exchanged pleasantries, draining my glass of champagne and setting it down on a glass coffee table. Whoever the designer of this place was really—and I mean really—appreciated the color peach. Its varying hues were found in pretty much everything, from the striations in the marble flooring to the wallpaper. Accents were even embedded in the chandelier above the—surprise, surprise—peach settee I was sitting on. With Elle and Kirsten still chatting it up, I stood up to stretch my legs, taking a prolonged sip from Elle’s champagne. The dresses at La Bella’s were arranged in a color coordinated manner, which formed somewhat of a rainbow around the store.
“Mena.” Elle’s voice startled me, but not as much as the sight that met me when I turned around.
“Holy crap, she multiplied,” I observed, taking in not one, but two statuesque blondes.
Kirsten giggled. “Elle told us you had a strange sense of humor.”
I eyed Elle, who just shrugged as if challenging me to find something wrong contained within that statement.
“Oh, then you must be Daffodil.”
“It’s Violet,” the other Sweet Valley High twin replied. Behind her, Elle glared at me, shaking her head.
“My mistake.”
“Do you have my champagne?” Elle asked, noticing that the only glass in my possession was the one presently touching my lips.
“Yeah, about that.”
“Seriously?” she muttered. “I could use that more than you right now.”
“I truly doubt that.”
“Well hello, ladies,” an older, stately woman approached us after noticing that Elle’s wedding party was finally all present and accounted for. “I’m Agnes, and I’ll be showing you dresses and assisting with the fittings and alterations. Elle told me she’s going with citrus hues for her wedding theme, and I must say, I pulled some things together that I think you’ll find look absolutely stunning.”
We followed Agnes to the back of the store, finding ourselves having to pick up the pace to keep up with her. She led us to an area of the store that was partially walled off to provide more of a private fitting location. It was a relatively bare space, with floor-length mirrors adhered to one of the walls, a table stacked with bridal magazines, and a lone couch that was oddly tan, not peach. Agnes motioned for us to take a seat on the couch while she flitted about, looking for something that obviously wasn’t there.
“Oh my,” she sighed. “The dresses I selected were supposed to have been brought back here already. I’ll have to go see what they’ve done with them. Are you all comfortable? Can I get you anything?”
“A bottle of that champagne would be great,” I offered when I noticed no one else was going to say anything.
“Wait, they serve alcohol here?” Kirsten asked, legitimately gobsmacked at even the thought.
I held up Elle’s empty glass. “Sure do.”
“Then we’ll take two bottles, please.”
“You’re good people, Kirsten.”
Agnes nodded. “I’ll be right back with the dresses and the bubbly.” Before she even finished her sentence, she had already scurried away behind the wall, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floor.
“If I had half her energy … oh, who am I kidding, I’d probably still be in bed sleeping,” I observed.
“You’re too young to be that tired,” Hydrangea replied. “Perhaps, you need to up your B12 intake.”
“Perhaps, I do, Iris. Perhaps, I do.”
Kirsten quietly chuckled next to me.
“Well, I don’t know about you ladies,” Elle chimed in, “but I’ve been super excited about this all week, and I’m not even much for dressing up. There’s just something about weddings that brings it out in me.”
“What kind of style did you select?” Chrysanthemum asked.
“You know, I really haven’t decided much beyond the color scheme. I figure we’ll try on different styles and fits, and see which ones work with your individual body types.”
“Oh, that’s such a relief.” Kirsten placed her hand on her chest. “I was worried about the dress being cut too low in the front. I’m a little insecure about the girls. They seem to take center stage wherever they go, and it makes me so self-conscious.”
I nodded, encouragingly. “Funny, I have that problem, too.”
“Really?” she asked, taking a none-too-discreet look at my boob-deficient chest.
“Like all the time.” I nodded.
Kirsten eyed me, perplexed, until it finally dawned on her that I was beyond kidding. “That’s a good one,” she laughed, elbowing me.