Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,53
to try on.”
“I’ll be back,” Ali says, winking to me. “Try not to get into any catfights.” The last comment is directed at Lindsay. Maybe Ali did catch on to it.
Without Ali here, the air is somewhat different. Although Ellie asks Sam about some promotion she was wanting to get. Sam didn’t hear back yet, but I tell her I hope she gets it. It’s only small talk, polite and fairly easy. I don’t make eye contact with Charlie’s supposed ex though.
It’s far too long before Ali makes her way back to us in a new gown, and I deliberately don’t look up. I’ll just sip my champagne, smile and ooh and ahh when I’m supposed to. Or at least I’ll try to.
Ali’s hips sway as she walks to the mirror. This one is pretty, but not as formal as the other one. It's sleeveless, dark cream lace with a cutout in the back. Ali’s face falls when she sees her reflection in the mirror.
Ali makes her way to the pedestal, turning this way and that. She faces us again. “What do you think?”
“Pretty,” Sam pipes up.
“Yeah, pretty,” Ellie says, nodding her head as her eyes travel up and down the gown.
“Not pretty enough, though,” Lindsay admits. Ali nods, subtly, but still looks to me for my opinion.
“I think I agree,” I say. “But it is pretty,” I add with a peppy voice just in case she likes it and I was wrong about the facial cues.
“Yeah,” Ali agrees, shoulders slumping. “All right. Cheer me up with some more details about yourself. Tell us how you met Charlie.”
“Oh, yeah!” Ellie says. “How’d you meet that hunk of man candy?” Her question forces a grin on my face. When the other girls look at her funny, she shrugs. “What? I can’t think that Ali’s brother is hot?”
The room fills with snickers.
“Okay,” I say, returning my attention back to Ali. “Charlie and I met because my friend Diane told me about his bar. She took me there for a drink, and one thing led to another…”
I leave it open-ended, hoping that their imaginations will be better than mine.
“When are you going to officially be his girlfriend?” Lindsay asks pointedly.
Her question is like a bucket of ice water to the face and I’m sure my expression reflects that. I’m quick to fix it, smiling back at her and shrugging. Before I can manage a response, Ali steps in.
“Charlie said she was. So she is.”
“Did he?” her friend questions and even if this conversation wasn’t about me, my jaw would still hit the floor. Why would she ruin her friend’s big day?
“Jesus, Lindsay,” Ali says, getting up. “You really are no fun when it comes to Charlie, you know that?”
“Sorry,” Lindsay mumbles and to her credit she does appear remorseful.
With a disapproving look and a huff, Ali disappears into the changing room again before I have to answer. I should try for diplomacy with Lindsay. After all, I’m the one who’s full of crap. I know Charlie doesn’t want me to really be his girlfriend. If I wasn’t in the way, Lindsay could be putting the moves on Charlie. She could be winning his heart, for all I know.
The idea of the pretty little blonde with big handsome Charlie makes me nauseated, but I choke it down, and wash the bad taste out of my mouth with another gulp of champagne. I’m going to play nice with Lindsay.
“I just started dating Charlie,” I tell her waving off the tension. “It’s barely even a thing.”
“Yeah?” she says, looking surprised.
“Yeah, totally. Like, we haven’t had any talk about exclusivity or babies or marriage. We’ve only just started seeing each other.” I bite my tongue as soon as I say that. Charlie probably won’t appreciate that I've given Lindsay license to kill where he’s concerned. It’s true though. What’s the saying? The truth hurts.
Another gulp of champagne it is.
“Wow. Well… okay,” she says, some of her gloom lifting. Although she’s now smiling, my heart hurts and I wish I hadn’t said that. But I can’t take it back now.
I should have said, I really like him and he really likes me. And left it at that.
When Ali arrives again, she makes an entrance. The way she looks in the third dress knocks the breath right out of me. The dress is pure white, with delicate lace straps, lacy cups, and a full skirt. She turns, and the back has a row of tiny white buttons.
There’s a collective