laughs from the dressing room. “You people are accustomed to a level of lavish that us commoners can’t comprehend either. I bet when Jenny saw your Versailles knockoff mansion that you call an apartment, she was shocked.”
“I guess it was odd watching her explore my place,” I admit in a low tone to Carson. “She kept saying ‘oh my God’ and ‘seriously.’ She still makes comments about the fridge.”
“What kind of fridge is it?” Carson asks.
“I don’t know. A fridge?” I shrug.
“Miss Sami?” the dress lady with the thick Russian accent calls from behind the door.
“Coming,” Sami says and walks back there, instantly shouting at what she finds, “Oh my God! I told you no pizza! You suck. Look at those things! They’re huge!” She rips open the door and points at me. “Come here!”
We scramble up and walk to the dressing room, aware of the problem the moment we see them. Nat’s boobs are massive. I can’t stop staring. They’re like tractor beams.
“That’s hot,” Carson mumbles, his eyes are stuck on Nat’s chest.
“Which means it’s a problem!” Sami bursts.
“I think it’s fine.” Carson waves her off.
“Yeah, Brady’s gonna love it.” I crack a grin.
Sami points. “See, these lecherous perverts are drooling. Those will end up being dirty church porno boobs.”
“That’s not a thing.” I scoff.
“Yeah, it is.” Carson gives me a blank expression.
“Okay, gross. Katia doesn’t want to hear about your nun fetish.” Sami covers her face.
“What?” the Russian lady asks, lost fortunately. “I don’t know about this nun, but we can try to tape them,” she says. “The problem is you chose a dress with no room for error. A-line with spaghetti straps offers no support or place to hide a brazier.” She touches the white lacy V neckline that plunges between Nat’s enormous breasts to her ribs.
“This is a disaster.” Sami throws her arms up and stomps from the dressing area, pacing. “Show me with the tape.”
“She means please, Katia.” Nat scowls.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” Katia closes the door.
Carson and I take our seats again and wait.
But Sami doesn’t stop ranting, “I told you to stick to the diet. The wedding is in a week. If you’re lucky you can maybe lose five pounds between now and then and we’ll pray your boobs lose it first.” Sami continues pacing.
“You’re being a dick!” Nat calls from behind the wall, followed by some grunting. Katia opens the door again and the dress is much better but Nat looks like she might die.
“Oh thank God!” Sami sighs with relief. “That’s great like that.”
“Speak for yourself. I feel like my boobs are in a vice.” Nat clings to them and steps back into the dressing room.
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Carson jokes, earning a scowl from Sami and a middle finger from Nat before Katia closes the door. “What? That’s what happened to you, Sami. Your boobs were huge.”
“I’m not pregnant!” Nat shouts from the dressing room.
When she comes back out, we walk to where Sami has asked Vincenzo to bring the limo. He’s waiting for us and smiles wide when he sees me, which is more than anyone ever gets. “Lori!”
“Vincenzo!” We hug and he gives me the one pat on the back. “How are you?”
“Good, my boy. And how is the training going?” He nudges me and lifts a hand like he might punch.
“Good. Fun. I haven’t seen them in a few months, not since playoffs started. But I’m hoping to start training again soon,” I say, though I don’t know what free time I’ll have with this summer of Jenny wanting to move away and break my heart and all the weddings.
“You’re still training with Vincenzo’s assassin squad?” Sami snorts.
“Yeah, you know, fighting off all the ladies trying to get up in my—”
“Oh my God. Stop.” Sami rolls her eyes and climbs into the limo.
Vincenzo laughs as he closes the door. He knows I wanted to learn to fight because I like being able to take care of myself.
“I have an appointment with the florist. Do you guys want to come?” Sami asks from her phone, not looking up.
“No,” Nat and I say at the same time but Nat continues, “I’m hungry and tired. I had a crappy sleep last night, and I still have some work to do for the website.”
“Fine,” Sami relents but glances at Carson who’s unaware he’s being voluntold to do something since he’s too busy checking his phone.
After a couple seconds of silence, he lifts his attention back to us. “What?”
“You’re coming to the florist