I looked at the woman I was standing there in that bridal boutique, and for one of the few times in my life I thought I looked beautiful. That awkward art geek who never seemed to get the quarterback or dream boyfriend in high school was nowhere to be found, replaced by the most glamorous version of me there’d ever been.
Jordan sniffled behind me, making the moment so serious I almost cried, so I quickly turned around and changed the subject. Stepping down off the dais, I said, “Now we have to find you a dress. It’s your turn now.”
“I found a couple while you were in the dressing room. I don’t think the saleswoman thinks much of your idea of having me in black, though. She kept trying to foist pink gowns on me, and the last one she showed me was aquamarine. Can you believe it? Aquamarine! I had to stop myself from asking how her trip back to 1987 was.”
As I headed into the dressing room again, I carefully slid the dress from my shoulders. “Pink might work, if you want, but aquamarine is definitely out of the question. You sure you want black?”
I closed the door behind me just as the saleswoman came into the room with her arms full of pink, fluffy bridesmaids dresses—exactly the kind I’d promised Jordan she wouldn’t get stuck wearing. From inside the dressing room, I heard her announce to the woman, “There’s no way I’m going to be caught dead in those prom dresses.”
I hurried out of the dress and veil before she offended the woman and got out to her just in time to stop her from explaining just how dreadful the color aquamarine was. As the saleswoman turned on her heels and left, Jordan and I burst into laughter and it was like old times again.
Thankfully, the woman wasn’t too offended to bring back four black bridesmaids dresses, and after trying on each one, we couldn’t decide. They were all stunning on her. Not willing to take no for an answer, the saleswoman returned with one last dress in a soft peacock blue and before we knew it, we had to admit she had something there.
Jordan hurried into the dressing room and emerged in less than a minute in the dress that made me forget the idea of black in a heartbeat. Next to her long blond hair, the blue satin was stunning. Strapless, with a cuff neckline, it showed off her toned shoulders, and in the back it laced up like a corset, a very sexy touch. Standing on the dais, she turned around to face me and shook her head. “I have to admit. That lady knows her business. She’s delusional about the aquamarine, but this dress is fantastic. Are you okay with it instead of a black one?”
“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. And by the way, I think any man would bow at your feet in that dress.”
“Oh, I’m happy then. Bring on the bodyguard. He doesn’t know what he’s up against with me in this dress,” she said flashing a gorgeous smile.
“Good. Let’s go grab a bite to eat. I’m starving after all this dress stuff. Hurry and get that dress off and we’ll hit that little restaurant near your place.”
While Jordan changed back into her clothes, I made nice with the saleswoman and paid for the dresses. I also saw Varo and West outside, and channeling my inner Cupid, approached them as they stood near the front door to the boutique. West looked surprised, so I used what I was sure was his concern about Tristan being unhappy once again with their lack of invisibility to my advantage.
“Gentlemen, we’re going to head to a restaurant near Jordan’s apartment. I’d like you to join us.”
Varo looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I had a feeling the expression wasn’t one of surprise but amusement. “I’m not sure Mr. Stone would be pleased with that. I distinctly remember him saying he wanted us out of sight.”
“Well, that went by the wayside already, so let’s move on to lunch and everyone can be happy.”
West grimaced and turned to face Varo, who simply smiled and shrugged. “Looks like we’re eating lunch today, buddy.”
Jordan joined us, and as she explained that the dresses would be delivered to the house by the middle of next week, I saw Varo sneak a look at her. My inner matchmaker had hope!
Brickfire was quaint and relatively quiet, considering it was in the middle of one of the busiest parts of the neighborhood. Long and narrow, the restaurant’s central feature was a deep red brick fireplace that in the winter made the place one of the coziest in Brooklyn. Since it was springtime, it was merely the restaurant’s inspiration but it was no matter since the food was supposed to be some of the best in the city.
The hostess sat the four of us at a table in the back, and even though the photographers seemed to have far less interest in me now that Tristan had returned, I was thankful for the little privacy the location afforded us. Unfortunately, it took me only a few minutes to see that West intended on making our lunch like some awkward double date he’d been forced into. It was like the man knew nothing of how two people got together. Every time I attempted to introduce a topic of conversation I knew would help Jordan and Varo really get to know one another, West insisted on inserting some comment about what they were supposed to be doing instead of enjoying a nice meal with us.