by Alina Jacobs
“We can call lost and found,” Mark suggested. We were clearly engaging in a standoff.
“You don’t have to wait for me!” I finally snapped.
“This area has had some investment, but it’s not that safe. There’s hardly anything around here. Where are you going? I’ll walk you. It’s still dark outside. Something might happen.”
Of all the stupid fucking times for a stupid guy to be chivalrous.
“I’m fine.”
Mark dug in his heels. “I can’t leave you alone,” he said stubbornly.
I thought men of my generation were supposed to be self-serving, and yet here Mark doesn’t even like me, but he’s going to escort me to protect my honor anyway.
“Where are you going?” Mark asked.
I racked my brain. “I need coffee,” I said. “Someone broke my coffeepot.”
“Look in the mirror,” he retorted as he gestured me to the stairs up to the street.
The Gray Dove Bakery was bustling. A large number of the patrons must have been Mark’s employees, because they greeted him as they bought their coffees and pastries.
Chloe Barnard was behind the counter. She was Jack Frost’s girlfriend, and I was seriously jealous of her life. Rich, doting, handsome boyfriend? Check. Successful business? Check. A penthouse with a ton of natural daylight that didn’t look like she lived in a dumpster? Check. Shoot. If I could just have a room with windows that didn’t look out onto a brick wall, I would be happy.
Mark was still standing next to me.
“I think I’m fine now,” I told him. He ignored me.
Chloe’s eyes lit up when we stepped up to the counter. “Who’s that, Mark?” she drawled.
Mark looked down at me. “She’s in Liz’s wedding party with me.”
“How is Liz?” Chloe asked as she set a steaming cup and a box with a savory muffin in it on the counter. “I took a call last night from Wes asking if I could please immediately send over a box of soup muffins, two of each flavor.”
“She’s just anxious about the baby coming,” I said defensively.
“No judgment here!” Chloe said. “My philosophy is that if you’re growing a human being, you get to eat whatever you want!”
“What do you want?” Mark asked me.
“I can pay for my own breakfast.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you already ate breakfast. You had a granola bar on the train.”
“I eat two breakfasts,” I said defensively. “Sometimes three if it’s a really bad morning.”
“At least eat a soup muffin,” Mark growled. “It’s better than the cake and ice cream you normally eat.”
“Potato, cheddar, and bacon okay?” Chloe asked, putting a muffin in Mark’s bag. “They’re his favorite.”
My stomach grumbled.
“She wants a coffee too,” Mark added, “Probably the large one with all the bells and whistles.”
Chloe smiled. “We have caramel-flavored whipped cream.”
I perked up. “Yes, please!”
“Sprinkles?”
“It’s like you’re reading my mind!”
14
Mark
I gestured Brea to a table. “It will be out soon. She likes to warm up the muffins.”
“Oh, uh.” Brea made a face as if the thought of sitting with me displeased her. I wasn’t sure why that hurt. “I can just take mine to go.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to spend any more time with you than necessary,” I snarled. “But I made the rest of the changes you requested to the website and app. You need to review them.” I handed her my tablet.
Brea was perusing the website as Chloe brought the food out. “She’s cute!” she whispered in my ear as she set the muffin in front of me.
“Never happening.”
“How’s your second breakfast?” I asked Brea as she bit into the muffin. She made a moaning sound that made my skin tingle.
“Delicious,” she said around the food.
“Ready to give up cake and ice cream?”
“Never.” She took a long sip of her coffee.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s so large you need two hands!”
Her mouth made a little O.
Shit.
“Sorry, that was…”
I gulped. Brea raised an eyebrow. “It’s just because my hands are so small—they make everything look bigger. Don’t get a big head.”
The computer code swam in my vision. It was almost lunchtime, and I had barely accomplished anything.
It’s because of Brea, I decided. I shouldn’t have offered her breakfast, but then I had an account at the Gray Dove Bakery, and Brea had been right there, and it would have been rude not to.
The puppy she had foisted on me hadn’t made matters any better. At least I had already been in the habit of waking up early. The puppy had been dangerously close to having an accident in my condo. I also didn’t have any puppy food and had spent too much time researching what of the people food I had in my fridge I could feed him as opposed to catching up on the business news and sorting through my emails.
“Wes scored you a date!” Finn announced, waltzing into my office, my cousin trailing him.
I massaged my temples. “I’m still trying to recover from speed dating.”
“Speed dating was never going to get you anywhere,” Wes replied. “I have handpicked a very attractive woman for you.”
Finn flashed a thumbs-up.
“I don’t have the time,” I said. “Being roped into this wedding has been causing me to neglect my business.”
“You are here every night and earlier in the morning, and you work through lunch. We just had a record-breaking quarter. Again. You’re a top-notch CEO. Now you need to enjoy the spoils of your hard work!” Finn said.
Wes flipped to a picture on his phone. On the screen was an Instagram model making the typical duck face with the obviously Photoshopped waist and bustline.
I looked away. “I don’t think she’s my type.”
“You’re just supposed to go have fun, maybe get a little action,” Wes said. “No one is saying marry this girl.”
“You need to get back out there,” Finn added.
“I’m busy,” I repeated.
“I know,” Wes said earnestly. “That’s why I took it upon myself to arrange a date with her. She’s going to the Holbrook Foundation fundraiser with you on Friday.”
“I can’t just take some strange woman to my parents’ fundraiser!”
“No, but you do have to take a woman, and this one will look nice on your arm,” Wes countered. “I have a car arranged and a time set for you to pick her up.”
“All you have to do is wear a suit and not say anything stupid,” Finn added.
I grasped at straws. I hated attending those Holbrook Foundation fundraisers anyway. It would be unbearable if I also had to entertain some vapid Instagram influencer as well.
“I have to—I have to take care of my new dog. He has separation anxiety.”
“You have a dog?” Finn said in shock.
“Yes. In fact, he should be here shortly.”
“Why?” Finn asked in suspicion.
“I think it’s a great idea!” Wes countered. “A dog is a wonderful addition to your life.”
Shit. I had been planning on foisting him back onto Brea. Now I had to keep him.
“He needs some socialization…”
There was a commotion in the outer office. Then my brother Carter flung the glass door open and stomped in with the small puppy under one arm and his own quivering Chihuahua mix under his other.
“You need to start paying me to dogsit,” he declared.
“I just asked you to let the courier in to pick up the dog,” I retorted. “I never said bring the dog up here.”
“But he’s my nephew!” Carter cried, pressing his nose to the puppy’s muzzle. The dog licked him on the face.
Finn, Wes, and a gaggle of my employees crowded in t
he doorway to coo over the dog while he mugged for pictures. The puppy had drastically disrupted my morning routine. I hadn’t planned on waiting around to see how else he was going to make my life miserable, but now it seemed I was stuck with him.
15
Brea
I plucked the puppy out of Mark’s arms when he walked into the Weddings in the City office.
“I haven’t run the idea by Ivy yet,” I admitted. “She has a cat, and we aren’t sure if he’s going to like the pupper. I’m still looking for other homes.”
“I’ll keep him for now,” Mark said smoothly.
I was immediately suspicious. “Why?”
“Just trying to keep this wedding ticking along,” he said, leveling his gaze at me.
“Hm. Well, I made a collar and a vest for him,” I said, stuffing the puppy into his new outfit.
“You can’t put him in a frilly vest,” Mark protested. “He’s going to be a big, tough dog. All the other dogs are going to make fun of him for wearing that getup.”
“This isn’t a frilly vest,” I retorted.
Mark pointed to one single, solitary ruffle on the pocket square.
“A little flair never hurt anyone.”
I set the puppy on the floor, and he started eyeing my fabric swatches with a look that said, I’m going to shred this.
“Now you need to watch that puppy,” I ordered Mark. “This is the most important wedding event of all—the dress fitting.”
“Oh my God, I thought Carter was joking when he said you had a dog,” Carter’s girlfriend, Allie, exclaimed as she and Liz’s entourage trooped in. The group consisted of the rest of her bridesmaids, including Kate, her friend Anastasia, Dana, Liz’s mom, and her sister, Cora.
Mark and the puppy were the only boys at the wedding dress fitting. “Are you going to survive?” I asked him.
“I’m taking it as a challenge.”
Liz’s entourage cooed over the dog and admired the website as I did a once-over, making sure we had everything for a fun, productive fitting. I was hyped to see Liz try on the wedding dresses!
I had three mock-ups of various dresses along with a fake pregnancy belly to mimic what Liz would look like in the coming months. She was getting bigger and bigger whenever I saw her.
I ordered Mark to sit on the couch with Liz’s other bridesmaids while Ivy and I went to another room to help Liz into her dress. But unlike my other brides, Liz didn’t seem happy about the dress.
“I know this is just a basic white muslin currently,” I told her as we helped her into the first mock-up, “but try to envision it in gauzy lace and chiffon.”
Liz nodded as Ivy helped me strap the fake belly around her waist.
“Oh gosh, I’m going to be that big?” she said, eyes wide. “I wish I had realized I was pregnant earlier.”
“Brea is going to make you look amazing,” Ivy assured her.
“This first option is a Regency-inspired gown,” I told her as I tied the Empire waist under her boobs. I made a mental note that they had grown a lot bigger. “You’ll look very regal, like a young, blond Queen Victoria.”
Ivy took the train, and we walked out into the room to the applause of the entourage.
“Wow!” Liz’s sister exclaimed. “You look huge.”
I cringed.
“Let’s try to be positive and helpful to the bride!” Ivy sang.
“You’re going to look great in whatever Brea designs for you, Liz,” Kate assured her.
Ivy helped her onto the low podium in front of the three-sided mirror. Liz studied her reflection nervously.
“This silhouette is good for the baby bump,” I told her, “because the Empire waist looks best when the woman has a bit of a tummy to fill things out.”
“There’s more than a bit.” Liz wrinkled her nose.
“With this dress, we would pin your hair up in a sweet updo with lots of soft ringlets,” Ivy said, twisting her blond curls up.
“How do you feel about it?” Allie asked. “I think it looks great on you.”
“I need to see them all before I make a judgment. But I don’t hate it,” she assured me.
“It’s hard to envision when it’s not a full dress,” I told her.
The next dress had a shorter skirt with a V neckline and lacy straps. It flared out at the knees.
“This will give you a bit more support in the bust area,” I explained. “It’s a bit more flirty and fun with the flared skirt.”
“That is nice,” Liz said, looking at it in the mirror before we took her out to the entourage. “I have been getting really hot at night.”
Her entourage cheered as she walked out.
“That’s cute!” her mother said.
“We’d leave your hair down, and Amy would make you a lacy crown of flowers,” Ivy said to Liz. “The overall look would feel very fresh and fun.”
Liz looked down at her feet. “I do like this one, but my cankles.”
“You can’t blame the pregnancy for those,” her little sister piped up. “You always had cankles.”
“Cora!” Mrs. Davenport admonished.
“At least I found a man and am getting married!” Liz snapped back.
“Girls!” their mother scolded, clearly frazzled.
“Let’s try the final dress then hear your thoughts,” I told Liz. “We can always try a different one on or go back to the drawing board.”
“We don’t have much more time left! I have to choose one of these!” Liz said.
“Fortunately, I saved the best for last!” I said as Ivy helped Liz step into the mock-up of the elaborate ball gown.
“Wow!” Liz breathed, admiring herself in the mirror of the changing room.
I had pieced the ball gown together so it flared out a bit higher at the waist than a typical ball gown to disguise the bump. It also had a long train that evoked the classical bridal silhouette.
Liz was floating as she walked out to show her friends and family.
“You look stunning,” Ivy assured her. “And this is just a mock-up—think of how it will look with all the embroidery.”
I passed around the sketch of the finished dress so everyone could see the embellishments and detailing I was planning.
“Oh,” Liz said. “I do like this one. I just wish I wasn’t so huge.”
“You want a big, healthy baby,” Ivy reminded her.
“I just wish I had gotten married before all this. It’s horrible timing. I wanted to be the beautiful bride,” Liz said, sniffling. “I wanted Wes’s jaw to drop when he saw me.”
“It will,” Ivy assured her.
“I don’t know,” Liz’s little sister said. “I think you should put her in a super-duper formfitting dress. None of these are sexy. Wes is going to yawn when he sees you.”
The tears started leaking, and Liz sobbed.
“Now Liz,” her mother said, running up with a tissue. “You’ll look fine. Brea did a good job disguising the bump.”
“And this is with the late-term belly,” I said, tapping the rubber form around Liz’s midriff.
“It’s really astounding what you can do with fabric,” Mrs. Davenport told me as she consoled her daughter.
“It’s all in the tailoring. You don’t look that large at all, Liz.”
“Wes will like it for sure!” Kate piped up.
“I want him to love it and be wowed!”
“He will be,” Dana said.
“What do you think, Mark?”
“Wes is going to love anything you wear,” he assured Liz smoothly.
“You’re just saying that,” she choked out around her sobs.
“It’s true.”
“Yes, but which dress do you think Wes would like the most?” Liz begged.
Mark narrowed his eyes. “I think…” he began.
I cringed inwardly. It was Weddings in the City policy to never give an opinion on what dress the bride should have. It was a recipe for disaster, because she would blame us if s
he had wedding jitters or second thoughts later.
“I think you should get all three,” Mark stated.
“Three wedding dresses?” My eye was twitching again.
“Ball gown for the ceremony,” Mark said, ticking them off on his fingers, “the short dress for the reception, then to the long flowing one for a nice photo shoot later. You can do one of you before the baby is born then after. It would be very classic.”
I froze. Time-wise, I had budgeted a certain number of hours to construct the dress. With all the fitting, piecing, and embroidery, the ball gown was already going to be a big task. The ball gown plus two other dresses in less than a few months? I started to panic.
“Is that too much?” Liz asked me, eyes wide.
“Of course not,” I assured my friend. “You’re worth three wedding dresses!”
Ivy walked Liz and her entourage through the wedding plans thus far while I stormed up to Mark and dragged him off to a hallway.
“You’re such a dick!” I hissed.
“Is this about the audiobook?” he asked in confusion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. If you’re the type of person who wants to listen to books about alien penises that are clearly experiencing some sort of parasitic infection, that’s your business.”
“What the—? Fuck. Right, the book.” I was never going to live that down, but now I had bigger problems. “You purposefully told Liz to have three dresses so I would have to scramble!”
Mark glared down at me, his face dark. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I provided the only good answer to a terrible question. I was not going to be the person to tell Liz which dress to buy. You’re supposed to be the seamstress extraordinaire, the best in the business—you figure it out,” he spat then turned to leave.
“And actually,” Mark said, spinning back to me, “I’m insulted that you think I would stoop to manipulating my cousin’s pregnant fiancée just to pull one over on you in some sort of petty little contest. Grow up.”
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