Call Me Crazy (Bellamy Creek #3) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,29

I guess this is the one.” I smiled, feeling triumphant. “Unzip me?”

“Wait, you’re not even going to try on any of the other ones?” Anita was shocked. “You’ve only tried on three. Most brides try on at least a dozen.”

“She’s not most brides,” said my sister with a snicker.

I glared at her over my shoulder.

“Still. Are you sure?” Anita was concerned, her hands knitted together.

“I’m sure. My wedding is on Friday, so I don’t really have a lot of time.”

“That’s true,” she admitted. “And this is stunning on you. Should we try a little veil?”

“No,” I said firmly. “No veil.”

“Just a short one?” Anita snapped her fingers. “Give me one minute. I have the perfect thing. It just came in.”

While we waited, Blair sighed again, placing her palms on her cheeks. “The dress is so beautiful, Bianca. Enzo is going to lose his marbles when he sees you.”

I laughed. “Thanks. Nothing I like more than making Enzo lose his marbles.”

“It’s just amazing the way you two fell for each other,” she said, her eyes soft and dreamy. “To think, you’ve known each other almost your entire lives.”

“Isn’t it romantic and old-fashioned?” my mother said, rising from the settee to come closer and fuss with my hair. Her eyes filled again.

“Stop, Mom.” I swatted her hands away. Her tears made me feel bad. Frankly, so did Blair’s sweet words. Or maybe it was the sinking feeling in my stomach that I wasn’t doing a very good job keeping my feelings for Enzo in the right place.

“This one!” Anita came rushing back into the fitting area carrying a sparkling headpiece with a pouf of French netting attached. Standing behind me, she settled it on one side of my head, and I had to admit it looked perfect with the dress. “It’s called a birdcage veil,” Anita explained. “It’s a vintage style, but very trendy again.”

“Oh, Bianca,” Blair gushed. “It’s so beautiful with your red hair.”

“What do you think?” I turned around and faced my sister, and to my chagrin, she teared up too.

Then she nodded. “It’s perfect, B.”

I looked at my reflection again and took a deep breath, trying to keep my shit together. But all the tears were making it difficult—even Ellie was crying, and she knew this whole thing was fake.

I knew it too. So why was my throat so tight?

“Anyone up for a glass of wine after this?” I asked. “I have to go over to the pub to finalize the menu.”

“I am,” Blair said enthusiastically. “I want to hear the whole proposal story from start to finish. Griffin was absolutely useless on the details.”

“I wish I could, but I have to get home and feed your father,” my mother said.

Ellie declined too. “Sorry, I have to get home too.”

After I’d changed back into my regular clothes and said goodbye to my mom and sister, I purchased the dress and headpiece with Blair looking on wistfully.

“I wish I could get married all over again,” she said.

“At City Hall? With your reception at the Bulldog?” I teased, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yes! I wouldn’t care. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my wedding at Cloverleigh Farms, but it won’t matter where you are, Bianca.” She linked arms with me as we headed up the street. “The only thing that will matter is hearing Enzo promise to love, honor, and cherish you for the rest of your life. And getting to make the same promise right back.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah.”

When we reached my car, I carefully laid the dress across my backseat and placed the box with the headpiece in it on the passenger seat. After sticking a couple more quarters in the meter, we headed for the pub.

Inside, we sat at the bar and ordered a couple glasses of wine. The manager came over with the chef, and we finalized the menu—Enzo and I had decided we might as well fully embrace our pub-themed wedding, so appetizers included fried pickles and mozzarella sticks, entrees were sliders and fish and chips, and when I begged for a vegetable of some kind, the manager scratched his head, but the chef assured me he could do some delicious crispy Brussels sprouts.

“I’ll take it,” I said. “Done.”

The other details were in place as well. Blair, who owned her own bakery, would bake our wedding cake. We’d use the vintage jukebox for music. Ellie’s girlfriend Sierra was a photographer and had offered to take photos as a wedding gift. And Griffin, who owned