he’d chickened out.
Still, maybe Lily had a point. Perhaps she should just accept he was going to think about the past and wait for the storm to blow over. It would have been easy for him to call it off last night—she’d given him every opportunity. But he’d insisted he still wanted to marry her. What was she trying to do—talk him into it?
She sighed. Worry about the day ahead made her shoulders sag. “I wish it was Saturday,” she whispered. “I wish it was all over.”
“I know.” Lily got up and came over to hug her again. “Chin up, sis. You’re marrying the man of your dreams! I wish I was in your shoes.”
That made Honey smile. “Oh, your Mr. Right is out there somewhere, sweetie. Don’t you worry. You’re only twenty-one—you have years of fun and romance ahead of you yet.”
Lily looked doubtful. She’d only had one boyfriend, and Honey wasn’t sure they’d slept together. “I guess.”
“Of course you have. You just need to get out more!” She stood and shooed her sister with her hands. “Now go on and let me get ready. I’ve got to be at court in half an hour—I have to get moving.”
They kissed and Lily left. Honey sighed and straightened her jacket in the mirror. After Daisy had moved in with Reuben, Honey had taken over the motherly role of the family—not that Daisy had been that good at it anyway. Daisy had been better at bossing everyone around and organising the practical side of the household, but Honey had always been the heart of the house, providing a listening ear to all their troubles and a comforting hug should one be needed. She enjoyed the role, but with it came all the worries of a parent too, as well as the concern that she should be doing more, and the anxiety about what would happen when she left to move in with Dex.
She surveyed herself in the mirror, noting the frown lines between her eyes and the dark rings beneath them. She didn’t look like a bride-to-be. She should be excited, double-checking all the arrangements for Saturday and throwing hissy fits because the flowers were the wrong shade. But worry about the big day was almost the last thing on her mind.
Her watch read eight thirty. She should get going. She didn’t want to be late for court.
Hesitating for a moment, she crossed the bedroom to the wardrobe. Hanging on the side was her wedding dress, covered in a blue plastic zipped bag. She brought it around and hung the hanger on the front of her wardrobe, then unzipped the bag part of the way.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she reached out to brush the layered skirt. Fashion dictated that meringues weren’t stylish anymore and to be elegant one had to wear a long straight strapless dress in empire line or ‘fit and flare’, but Honey had passed impatiently over those styles in the catalogues. Why should she choose a dress she could have got away with at a dinner party? She’d wanted something magnificent and princess-like, straight out of a Disney movie.
In the end, she’d chosen a breathtaking tulle and sequin ball gown with lace appliqués, spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline. It was demure and dignified and utterly impractical, and she wanted to wear it all day every day for the rest of her life.
She fingered the tulle, unable to believe she’d get a chance to wear it. And then she sighed, frustrated at her own lack of confidence. Her therapist had told her that she had to believe in herself before she could expect other people to. If she didn’t think she deserved to be happy then other people wouldn’t either. It had not been an easy lesson for her to learn, but she’d been getting there. But the recent events were causing all the old feelings of worthlessness to rise to the surface.
She zipped up the bag, imagining as she did so the old Star Trek adage of “Shields up!” A firm fan of The Next Generation and Jean-Luc Picard, the therapist had suggested the mental manoeuvre whenever she felt the need to protect herself, and it had proved surprisingly successful. And sure enough, as she encased herself in her mental armour, her resolve stiffened and her confidence grew. She would go to court and do her best to sort out the case, and then she would be free to concentrate on her wedding. The