forced that my cheeks hurt.
Presley seems to be too absorbed in the excitement of the day to latch onto my sour mood. “Ah, I didn’t think I’d be this nervous when we got here. I mean, I don’t even really care about wedding stuff, just the whole marrying Keaton part matters in my mind. But … this is my fashion moment. I only get to do this once.”
Penelope nods. “That’s right, so make it count. You can have whichever one you want. Mostly because Keaton is paying.”
Presley bumps her hip. “Who says Dr. Do-Good is paying? I own my own business, thank you very much.”
“How is the studio doing?” I ask, happy to talk about anything unrelated to weddings or love.
“It’s doing amazing, actually. There was a write-up about it in the Lancaster newspaper, which is so cool. And our memberships have steadily been growing. I mean, it’s only the first month, but we’re making money. I was able to squirrel away some for Grandma because she refuses to take a salary. I just … I can’t believe I get to go to work every day and teach yoga.”
I nod, knowing exactly how that felt. “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”
“Always quoting.” Presley chuckles. “Such a librarian thing.”
I shrug. “Books are the best medicine. Which is why I prescribe them every day.”
Penelope makes a gagging noise. “Yuck, kill me with the sappiness. We’re shopping for wedding dresses; this is already as Hallmark movie as it gets. At least entertain me with some dick stories.”
My teeth grind together. Most days, I love my best friend. Today, however, with her raunchy comments and annoying over-enthusiasm, and my terrible mood, I want to strangle her.
But, Presley indulges her. “Is it true that sex gets better after marriage?”
“Most people would say the opposite, but my sex life was amazing. Although, inconsistent, what with the husband overseas in a war zone.” Penelope shrugs, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her talk about Travis in a while.
Which is strange. She never mentions him, not even to me.
“Well, I think ours is going to get better. Not that it’s not amazing now, but since the engagement … hell …” A blush flushes across Presley’s cheeks, and the color almost matches her hair. “When was the last time you had sex?”
Penelope and I look at each other, and my best friend points at me. “I’m thinking that question was aimed at you.”
My grouchiness crowds in. “That’s not really your business. How about you tell us when you last had sex, Penelope?”
I lash out and say this to hurt her because I know she hasn’t been with anyone since Travis died two years ago. But instead of snapping back at me, her eyes shift nervously and she scurries for the door of the bridal boutique.
What the hell? “Um, Penelope, answer the question.”
Presley goes after her too, her eyes curious. “Did you sleep with someone?”
“Welcome, ladies.” A store employee walks up on us at that exact moment, and I giggle without thinking about clamping my mouth shut.
She definitely heard us asking Penelope if she’d had sex with someone.
“Hi, I’m Presley McDaniel, I made an appointment for all of us to try on dresses for my wedding today.”
The woman checks the book at the front counter. “Yes, we have a dressing room waiting for you. Come on back.”
I grab Penelope’s elbow as Presley walks in front of us. “What is going on? You met someone?”
My best friend sighs. “I didn’t meet anyone, Little Miss Priss. I fucked someone.”
“Penelope!” I whisper scold.
She rolls her eyes. “What? There is a huge difference. Don’t go making a big deal out of things. I just … it was time, and the moment was hot. So I did it. There are no wedding bells or happily ever afters in my future.”
That made me sad for her. And for me. We’d been stuck in the same boat for a while now, and I was worried for her. Setting aside my own failed love life, Penelope deserved someone to care for her. She and Travis had been soul mates, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t someone out there for her to spend time with.
A frown turns my lips down all the way through the first two dress try-ons. Presley and Penelope are bubbly and vivacious, sipping on champagne and dancing around in tulle. I try to be supportive, give my thoughts on the dresses, but with each change, I sink