Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,80
and focus on Caroline. This day is about her. And Alex. Their wedding. Everything is in place, and though she was extremely stressed last night during the rehearsal dinner, this morning our bride-to-be is serene. Calm. It’s so nice to see. I need to take a lesson from her and find some inner peace.
Kind of difficult, though, when all I want to do is talk to Mitch.
We’re all getting our makeup and hair done in the suite, including Caroline’s and Alex’s mothers, other family members, and of course, the bridesmaids. Our dresses are beautiful. The color is a dusky blue, with a crossover front and thin straps that crisscross in the back. The skirt is gauzy, covered with delicate pearl-and-rhinestone embellishment that looks like vines.
I wish Mitch could see me in it.
One of my gifts to my friend is doing her hair for the wedding. This is why she’s in the chair and I’m standing behind her, trying to focus so I don’t screw up. She found a hairclip that matches the embellishment on the bridesmaids’ dresses almost perfectly, and I’m going to create a loose curl updo, with soft tendrils framing her face and the clip in the back of her hair.
It’s going to be fabulous. I’ve done this hairstyle before on other brides, so this should be a piece of cake. But considering this is for one of my best friends and I’m in said friend’s wedding, I’m nervous. My hands are literally shaking.
Clearly, I need to calm myself down.
“Do you need some coffee?” Caroline asks, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror.
“No thank you.” I shake my head. “That’ll just make it worse. I’m worried I’ll screw up your hair.”
“No way. You can’t do that.” She smiles, her expression gentle and full of love. “You are the best hairstylist I know. I’ve seen some of the styles you’ve done for other brides and for proms. You’re amazing.”
I hear what she’s saying, but it’s like it doesn’t compute. I just stand there frozen in place, my hands resting on her shoulders. “I don’t feel very amazing right now,” I admit softly.
“Here.” Stella appears out of nowhere, a champagne flute in her hand. She holds it out toward me. “Have a mimosa. It’ll steady your nerves.”
I gladly take the glass from her and sip. Oh, it’s delicious. The orange juice is icy cold and with that crisp bite of champagne, it goes down smoothly. Too smoothly. As a matter of fact, I drain my glass within minutes, making an “ahh” sound when I finish.
Caroline just watches me in the mirror, her eyes wide. Crap. I probably just scared the bride.
“I’m better,” I tell her after I set the glass on a nearby table and smile at her. Funny how the alcohol steadied my nerves, just like Stella said. “Okay, let’s do this.”
It takes me almost an hour and about a million bobby pins, but I finally finish Caroline’s hair, and it’s like a freaking masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Everyone comes over to her chair when I’m finished to admire my handiwork, all of them making the appropriate noises and offering gushing compliments. I bask in their praise. It’s just what I need to hear to fuel my confidence and make me feel better about today.
See? I know what I’m doing. I’m a competent, in-demand hairstylist. I am surrounded by friends who love me, celebrating Caroline’s special day. The wedding and reception will be magical. My life is full.
So why do I feel like I have a hole in my heart? And that it is somehow the exact same size and shape of Mitch?
Stella pulls me aside once I’m finished thanking everyone for the compliments and hands me another mimosa. “Girl, I think you need this.”
I of course filled everyone in on my Mitch-lied-to-me news. They were all perfectly pissed on my behalf, which I appreciated greatly. I gave the quickest rundown to Caroline, only because she’s getting married and has too many things on her mind already.
“Thank you,” I tell Stella as I sip from my glass. I didn’t eat much breakfast—a couple of apple slices—and I probably shouldn’t drink so much on a mostly empty stomach, but screw it.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice gentle, her gaze full of concern. I love Stella for her no-nonsense approach to everything. How she doesn’t hold back when she feels like something is wrong. She’s blunt and honest and gives it to us straight.
I need her bluntness