Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,51
it’s off to a good start!
“Hi,” I say. “It’s nice to meet y’all.”
“Ladies, this is Grace. She’s dating Charlie.”
I note the looks of total surprise on all three of their faces, followed by a look on Lindsay’s face like she smelled something rotten. I assume that look isn’t directed at me, but I still saw it.
I guess Diane isn’t the only one to have the hots for Charlie.
RIP that good start. At least it lasted a second.
Sam and Ellie say hello, but Lindsay just gives me a tight smile. Luckily, Ali is too caught up in starting the dress shopping to notice. My heart races and the nerves build up even more as she ushers everyone toward the store.
“Come on! Let’s go in!” Ali leads the pack, which now I’m a part of.
The window display sports a lady mannequin dressed in what I assume is the height of bridal couture. The dress is white satin, tightly fitted and turned to the side to showcase the low-cut back.
It makes me wonder what kind of dress Ali is looking for, exactly. I don’t know a darn thing about her really or about the wedding.
The second we’re inside, I pause, waiting for someone to tell us where to go, but we’re ushered back and then father back; Ali knows just where to go and doesn’t wait for anyone. There’s a single podium along the back wall, empty at the moment, and a curved wall that blocks the rest of the store from sight. All the decor is colored in shades of white, cream and pastel pink.
“Hello, hello,” a woman appears from a side door right on cue. She speaks clearly, but with a Parisian accent. “You’re here for Alianna?” Her elegant demeanor, graying hair and thin frame fit in with the store. This woman looks like she owns the place.
“Yes! That’s me,” Ali raises her hand while practically shaking with excitement. She’s freaking adorable. It warms my heart to see her happiness on such obvious display.
“Bien. I’m Monique, the owner. Let me get you ladies set up.” There’s a large round pink ottoman to sit on, two stuffed chairs, and a throne. Like an actual throne. I take it that’s going to be for the bride-to-be.
To our left, there’s a floor to ceiling three-way mirror with a low pedestal in the middle. Ali looks at the pedestal nervously.
“You sit here,” Monique says to Ali, gesturing to the throne. “And the rest of you, sit where you like.”
Ali glances at us, her perfect smile never dimming, then goes to sit on the gilded throne. After a minute of being left to our own devices as Monique runs to the back room she came from to grab a client form, Ali grins even wider, I don’t know how that’s possible. Lindsay and Sam take the two chairs, leaving Ellie and me to sit on the ottoman.
“All right,” Monique announces as she enters again with a clipboard and pen. Her English is perfect, though her accent is heavy and honestly adds to the romanticism. “What are we looking for, Miss Alianna?”
Ali turns a pretty shade of pink. “Okay, I already have the reception dress.” Her confidence growing as she talks. “My wedding is in a week, and I need a second dress for the ceremony. I wasn’t going to do two dresses, but my ma wants something more traditional even though it’s a smaller, more casual wedding.” I almost laugh at Ali’s answer. Charlie told me how his mom has been very opinionated with Ali’s dress. I guess she finally gave in one full week before the deadline. She's cutting it close.
“Okay. Tell me what this ideal dress looks like.”
“Umm, I brought some pictures…” Ali answers, digging through her purse all the while. The entire place is as quiet as a mouse as we wait. “Here. I made an album of the dresses that I like from the bridal magazines… and the ones my mother liked too.”
“Ah!” Monique nods, reaching out. “Let’s see.”
She takes the stack of photos from Ali and sifts through them. She's quiet for a long time, taking the measure of each picture fully. I wish it wasn’t so quiet, it makes me pick at a non-existent piece of lint as my insecurities rise. I don’t want to ruin this for Ali. I don’t want her to look back on this day and wish I hadn’t been there.
“Do you think you’ll be able to help us?” Sam asks, fidgety. “She waited until the