My mother grabs me firmly by the hand and drags me towards the boutique. “You’re being ridiculous, Brynley. Even for you.”
I dig my heels even harder into the sidewalk. “What the fuck ever. You’re not the one who had to spend the entire time listening to Carol Lynn or Carol Ann or whatever Hillbilly Barbie’s name was complaining about her boyfriend of like a decade not ready to marry her yet. She really killed the mood of wedding dress shopping.”
Which wasn’t exactly hard. I’m not enjoying it at all. Doesn’t help that the price tags have me refusing to even touch them, and it helps even less to realize the super sexy ones I wanna wear won’t be the same level of sexy with a round stomach. Unfortunately, Wes and I haven’t had much time to celebrate the pregnancy though we had no trouble finding time to bump heads about it. We did thankfully establish I won’t be quitting my job. That topic was on the top of my list during our discussions. We agreed on having a nanny to help us, agreeing it would be best, with the crazy schedules we both work. When we told our family and friends they all seemed to spiral into unexpected joyful tangents. Our official public announcement goes up first thing tomorrow morning, and Evie had a photographer come out to the manor early as fuck this morning to take “official photos” to help defend our “decision” to wait. It also makes Global Laundry look like an asshole for “spoiling” our special moment. Gotta say, Evie isn’t always my fucking favorite, but the woman handles her job like she was raised by Amazons. She deserves to be side by side with Wonder Woman. Though giving Evie a lasso of truth feels like a conflict of interest considering her chosen profession.
“Brynley, Wes rented out this entire boutique for just the two of us today. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for your fiancé who spent so much of his hard-earned money to give you privacy.”
Her parenting lecture puts an unwanted pep in my step.
“I didn’t tell him to do that….” I mumble.
“He did it because he’s thoughtful,” she hums his praises.
Rather than argue, I simply roll my eyes and follow her into the store.
The freshly polished, dark hard wood floors and the chrome decor create a chic impression. Along each of the gray painted walls are built in shelving used to display wedding dresses of various styles, while in the very back of the store there seems to be units of colorful gowns, most likely for the bridesmaids, though a colorful wedding dress has crossed my mind. In the center of the boutique there are two curved white couches facing one another and a coffee table to separate them.
A stunningly gorgeous, black haired woman cheerfully states, “Hello! I’m Kristal, the owner of Weardeville. You must be Brynley and Lauren.”
I admire her fit frame that’s covered in a sleeveless black dress with ruffles on one side, her dark brown eyes, and flawless tanned skin. The perfection she’s radiating causes me to deny, “We’re so not shopping here.”
“Brynley!” My mother scolds.
“Sorry. She’s way too fucking pretty to sell me something.”
Kristal tries not to smile. “I appreciate the compliment-”
“Really wasn’t the intention-”
“However, please do not be mistaken, Miss Winters. All the focus will be on you. Mr. Wilcox rented out the entire shop to guarantee you get only the very best at all times.”
Before I have the chance to rebut, another woman, who looks like a copy and pasted version of the one standing in front of me, strolls out. “What the fuck? Are you multiplying?”
Kristal successfully snickers this time. “Identical twins.”
“In identical dresses for shits and giggles?” I point to their outfits.
“Black helps keep the focus on the bride and bridal party,” her twin informs. “I’m Kristine. I will be assisting my sister and when you’re ready to discuss bridesmaid’s dresses or mother of the bride dresses, I will take the lead.”
An unexpected sadness drops down onto my shoulders.
Bridesmaids? I don’t have any fucking friends that can be a bridesmaid? Vanessa? Maybe? Are we really that close? Someone you see for dinner every once in a while hardly seems like someone to invite to hold your dress while you pee. What about Callen? Can dudes be bridesmaids? Bridesman? How fucking hard would Wes object to that?
“Why don’t we start with something to drink to help calm the nerves?” Kristal suggests. “Wine, champagne, coffee, or water?”
“Champ-” the word instantly registers not to finish. “Coffee?”
My mother clears her throat to catch my attention. She shakes her head slowly, and I roll my eyes once more.
Ugh. Fucking being pregnant is like going on an unwanted diet.
“So it’s not bad enough I can’t drink my favorite beer any more, I can’t have its day time equivalent?”
“You’re allowed to have coffee in moderation and small amounts.”
Another groan of complaint slips out, “First it ruins my wedding dress selection, now my drinking too?”
“Excuse me,” one of the women speaks up.
When I turn back around I meet eyes with both, unsure where to look.
“You’re pregnant?” The one to the left asks.
“Is that a problem? Don’t carry that selection?”
The woman I believe to be Kristal smiles brightly. “We have a dedication here to help every woman regardless of her size, status, and financial situation, to find her dream dress. You have us at your complete disposal on this journey, and if you let us, we can help you find whatever it is that will make you feel as stunning as you are, even if you’ll be a few months pregnant.”
Her speech relaxes my shoulders.
“Kristine, why don’t you make a special run for the Winters? Would you two ladies like something different? Perhaps a smoothie? There is a little shop at the corner that makes an amazing low fat, peanut butter one.”
“Yes.” My instant reply causes the room to fill with giggles. “Please.”
“And for you, Mrs. Winters?” Kristine questions.
“You can call us by our first names,” I quickly announce, unsure of the last time someone called my mother Mrs.
I can’t imagine it upsetting her all these years later and while she’s happily involved with someone, but why risk it?
Kristine nods. “And what would you like Lauren?”
“I think I’ll have the same.” She offers me a smile and reaches for my hand, both actions to remind me I’m not alone in this.
At least she and Wes know that’s the shore of worry I am sitting on. I’ve done the total, one hundred and ten percent, Destiny’s Child Independent Woman thing. Having a baby is not something I wanna add to that list. I wanna have my husband involved and his support. I wanna have my mom reassure me sore nipples will fade even if my future stretch marks won’t. I wanna have a secure foundation for this experience. For once in my life, I actually want help.
Kristine says to her sister, “Looks like it’s a round of PB for everyone. I’ll be back shortly. I’ll have my phone.”
We watch Kristine head towards the front door, slide a panel on the wall open, grab her clutch, and exit the store.
Afterwards, Kristal ushers a hand towards the couches. “Why don’t we sit and have a small chat before we get to searching?”
The three of us move the direction she suggested, and I poke, “Are you paid by the hour? Is that why you wanna talk instead of shop?”
“Brynley,” Mom sternly snips under her breath.
Kristal has a seat on the opposite couch from us. “My day has already been paid for. Mr. Wilcox booked the entire day, which has a base fee, followed by the potential for sales fee, both in place to prevent me from losing anything if you don’t find what you are looking for today.”
“Makes sense.”
“However, my concern isn’t with making a sale. And trust me, I know how much of a line that sounds like, but I really am more interested in helping you find something that makes you not only look stunning, but feel that way too. I’m not going to sit here and sell you a sixty-thousand- dollar dress just because I know your fiancé will pay for it. I’m going to put you in something that takes your breath away and allows you to feel like you’re floating in pure joy.”
Another wave of relief runs through me.
“And he told me to remind you he is paying for it no matter the size of the tantrum you throw or whatever threats you aim at me.”
Loveable bastard.
She grins sweetly. “Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?”
“Not really.”
“Would you like me to pull some ideas I think might suit you based on your shape, your growing shape, and your personality?”
I quickly nod.
“Alright then, you two sit here, talk, and get comfortable. I’m going to go grab my tablet, and we’ll discuss a few ideas momentarily.”
Kristal dismisses herself from the room leaving me and my mother alone.
As if she can hear my screaming concerns, she questions, “Have you asked Calen to be your….bridesman?”
With a sarcastic smirk, I shake my head.
“There’s no harm in asking. Besides, I doubt he’ll say no.”
“Wes’ head exploding seems to be like a major harm.”
She lightly laughs. “He’ll cope. This day is about both of you.”
“Between him, the wedding planner, and Evie’s annoying ‘do not’ reminders, it damn sure doesn’t feel that way. Fuck, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t wait until December. We’d get married ASAP.”
“Is that so you can wear a dress you love as opposed to one you feel you just settled for?”
I scrunch my face realizing how transparent I am. “Is that wrong?”
Her hand lands on my leg. “It’s your wedding day, Bryn. It’s about being happy and in love and letting us celebrate with you, not dictate how. Why don’t you talk to Wes? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you moved up the date.”
He might not, but I’d bet every dollar in my bank account the wedding planner would.
“Haven’t actually had a lot of time to talk to Wes lately.”
“Conflicting schedules?”
More like his obsessing schedule. Ever since some bitch at Global Laundry decided to leak a fake affair story about this father, he’s spent every free minute digging into it with J.T. and Evie. I’ve barely seen him since Friday night when we announced to everyone we were extending the family. When I woke up yesterday, he was nowhere to be found. I ended up having dinner alone while watching a Star Trek movie marathon and even went to bed without so much as a kiss goodnight. Fuck, aside from the hour photoshoot this morning I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to him and even during that the conversation was all baby business related. I’m trying to be understanding about the entire thing. I know how much Wes’ family meant to him. Still means to him. How important it is keeping his legacy pristine, but shouldn’t that include his pending wife and child? Shouldn’t we be allowed to participate in this hunt, or at the very least be allowed to do more than sit idly by on the sidelines? Doesn’t he know I do not sit out very well?
“Bryn?” Mom’s voice pulls me out of my head. “You okay?”
I clear my throat in an attempt to banish the frustration. “Yeah. Sorry. Just um…spaced out for a second.”
“Pregnancy brain.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is definitely a thing,” she argues as she folds her hands in her lap. “And whenever your schedules sync up, talk to Wes. You have to learn to communicate with him, Bryn, especially since you two are about to raise a child together. The key to a successful marriage and family is communication.”
A key that we seem to fumble around with and lose quite often. You’d think after getting him to come out of his shell, it would be easy. That there wouldn’t be any hesitation or walls to climb to simply fucking talk to each other like regular people, yet here we are struggling to do the basics. Part of me thought having Wes come out into the light would make our lives easier. I never imagined it would make things more difficult. I never imagined I would have to battle for his time and attention the way I have lately. Hopefully, once this rumor about his past is squashed, we can get back to the way things were because the idea of trying to raise a baby like this is terrifying.