I didn’t respond to the message. Tristan wasn’t a liar. If he said he wasn’t sleeping with anyone, he wasn’t sleeping with anyone.
Just as I’d freed myself from my dress, my phone buzzed again.
Tristan again.
Unfortunately.
Heat chased up my spine. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sleeping with anyone? Or his fiancée?”
Was Tristan Dubrow flirting with me?
I tried to bite back a smile but before I had a chance to consider my response, Shayna knocked at the dressing room door and swept in, holding an armful of gowns which she placed on the freestanding rack in the changing room.
“These are more popular with our brides having more intimate affairs,” she said. My phone buzzed again. Was that Tristan? Despite not being a real bride, I started to feel a little giddy at the thought that my fiancé was messaging me. “Shall we start with this one?” She held up a strapless satin gown.
It was pretty and a lot more subtle than the last dress I tried on. I just wasn’t sure it was me.
“What else do we have?” My phone buzzed again.
“Now your mum and her friend aren’t here, how about you tell me exactly what you’re looking for?”
I sighed, not quite sure how to put it into words. “I don’t know. Something a little less bridal?”
Shayna frowned and then held up her finger. “Give me a minute.” She hurried out like she’d just had a flash of inspiration. The moment she left, I grabbed my phone.
A message from Tristan.
Are you sleeping with anyone?
I typed out a reply. Not even my fiancé. Unfortunately. And then I deleted it. I might have misread what he was saying. If I hadn’t, then flirting with Tristan felt a little like playing with fire. And I wasn’t looking to get burned. Instead I replied, Not unless you count the cows on my pajamas.
As I pressed send, a second one came in from Tristan.
Sounds weird, but it would feel like cheating.
My stomach tilted. I knew exactly what he meant. Yes, this entire palaver was a ruse to get hold of my trust fund, but we were in this together. We had each other’s backs. I shouldn’t have even asked the question of Tristan. He wouldn’t be sleeping with someone else when he was engaged to me, even if our engagement was just for show. He wasn’t that kind of man.
I sent my reply. I know what you mean.
He responded right away. I’m missing your cooking here in New York. You’ll have to give me lessons when I’m back.
Shayna knocked on the door, holding up the first dress that I’d been excited to try on since I arrived.
I nodded. “Let’s try it.”
It was cream silk, with a high neck and midi-length skirt.
Shayna unbuttoned the back and held it out for me to step into. “We call this our skater skirt wedding dress. Being honest, most of our brides choose this as a second dress—one to put on when the dancing starts—but I think it might be just what you’re looking for.”
It was simple and elegant, and the fabric felt soft next to my skin. It didn’t feel that different to putting on a dress for cocktails with Sutton.
“Gosh, you look like a forties pin-up girl. The neckline is perfect with your blunt bob and I could see you with just a flower behind one ear, no veil.” She finished buttoning me up and turned me to face the mirror.
I exhaled. I looked normal, but slightly better. “I love it,” I said.
“Think your fiancé would approve?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s very me. I think as long as I’m happy, he will be too.” It wasn’t a lie.
“Sounds like you picked a good one,” she replied.
“No complaints so far.” I twirled slightly in the mirror and the dress rose up.
“It fits like it was made for you,” Shayna said. “I’m not sure we’re going to need many alterations, if any.”
Double points for this dress. “We’re getting married in ten days, so if I can buy off the rack, even better.”
Shayna gave a laugh which was half-deranged panic and half relief. “Looks like this is the one. We’ve just got to convince the two ladies out there now.”
“Can’t I just buy it and tell them it’s decided?” I asked.
“We can, but in my experience—and I’ve been doing this a long time—if you go out there, delighted with your dress, they’ll come around. And that’s much easier than enduring any bad feeling because they weren’t involved.”
I sighed. It was good advice, though I knew the next half an hour was going to be spent trying to convince them that this was the right dress. It was time I’d rather spend texting my fiancé.
Eighteen
Tristan
I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so eager to get home from a trip to New York. The wedding was a week away. Parker had her dress, the venues were booked, and I still hadn’t tried on my suit. I didn’t have to get a new suit for Saturday—it wasn’t like I was going to be showing my grandchildren the wedding photos—but I wanted Parker to know I was making an effort. If she’d had the strain of picking a dress for our weird wedding day, I shouldn’t escape unscathed.