Rowan had made it clear since the beginning that he was serious and wanted only me. He’d never hid how he felt about me. And he was constantly talking about forever type things.
We lived together. I had adopted his dog. We spent almost all of our free time together. He gave me multiple orgasms. Daily.
Marriage, though an exciting milestone in the future, wasn’t something that I thought would change anything.
Marriage was changing something for someone, though. Two someones. Changing everything, actually.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” I told Fiona as she topped off both of our champagne flutes. I hadn’t touched mine since the first glass she’d poured, and she’d almost polished off the entire bottle on her own.
“What is there to wrap your head around?” she snapped, picking up the glass and taking a large gulp before turning to inspect herself in the mirror.
I frowned at my best friend. “How about the fact that the two of you could barely stand to be in the same room as each other less than a month ago, and now you’re getting married?”
Fiona scowled at me in the mirror. “Haven’t you heard of the enemies to lovers trope?” she barked in the same defensive tone she’d adopted since they’d announced not only their engagement but their wedding date three weeks ago.
“I have, and it’s a great one, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were still firmly in the enemies phase,” I retorted, running my fingertips around the rim of my glass. “You guys don’t seem all that… in love.”
Fiona scowled again as she took another sip then leaned in to touch up her lip gloss. She, of course, looked stunning in a simple slip dress that skimmed over her body like a dream and showed off her tanned skin.
It wasn’t white. It was bright red. Blood red.
Not that I’d expected Fiona to do anything traditional, but I wasn’t quite expecting that. Sure, red could signify love, passion or romance, but this shade was angry. It was almost like a declaration of war.
“Just because we’re not all over each other, spouting about true love everywhere like you and Rowan, doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,” Fiona huffed, running her fingers through her hair.
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “But you don’t even seem to like the guy. And this is really fast.” I looked to my still full champagne glass, considering the reasons why my best friend and Rowan’s best friend would need to be married so quickly and so out of the blue. “Are you pregnant?”
Fiona looked at me, genuinely horrified. “No, I’m not fucking pregnant,” she hissed. “And even if I were, the last thing I’d do is have a shotgun wedding with the guy who knocked me up. Come on, babe, you know me better than that.”
“I thought I did,” I countered. “But you didn’t even tell me anything was going on with Kip until the two of you were engaged.” I tried to hide my hurt, because despite it being the truth, it was her wedding day, and I needed to support her.
Fiona’s face softened and she turned around, placing her now empty glass next to mine before taking my hands.
“I’m sorry,” she said genuinely. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you. I wouldn’t dream of it. This all just happened so fast and… Fuck, I didn’t think we’d actually go through with it. I don’t even know if he’s going to be there waiting for me.” She waved toward the doors leading outside.
Fiona had planned on the ceremony happening at city hall, wanting as little fanfare as possible. But she was my best friend, and although she didn’t technically ask me, I was her maid of honor. Therefore, there was going to be fanfare, despite how shocked I had been about the whole thing.
Fiona wasn’t someone I’d expected to turn into bridezilla, but she’d proven difficult with every single location I’d shown her.
So, we were doing it at the bakery. The only place she hadn’t vetoed.
We’d turned my office into a dressing room, my desk cluttered with makeup and beauty products. The cakes were out in the kitchen. I’d gone a little overboard with the catering. Fiona loved anything and everything chocolate, so I made three different kinds of chocolate cake. Kip liked vanilla, so I made a plain vanilla cake with bourbon frosting and a Victorian sponge cake with my homemade jam. Not to mention all the little party favors… cupcakes, cake pops, homemade candies.
Fiona was most worried about the booze.
“He’s going to be out there,” I assured her, frowning toward the seating area we’d turned into a wedding venue. “He’s not stupid. And he knows I’ll track him down and skin him alive if he hurts my best friend.”