Page 54 of Sister of the Bride

“You look beautiful. I mean it.” His eyes drag down the length of my body, then back up again, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip, his mouth tugging up into a shy grin. “You’re radiant.”

My cheeks heat, and I can’t help but laugh, a nervous tic. “Thanks,” I say, trying to shake off the weird feeling that’s coming over me. This is no different from when he complimented my prom dress senior year. We went together. As friends.

“Can you…” I nod over my shoulder at the stuck zipper at the small of my back.

There’s a pause where I wonder if he’s going to say no. If he’s going to turn and go find Birgit, who will use her ice-cold fingers to solve this problem. But then he nods, a quick little motion that sends one of his curls over his forehead, his brows knitted together as if I’ve asked him to go into battle with me.

I turn around to show him the zipper, which leaves me facing the full-length mirror. I can watch him as he watches me. Watch him as he steps up close, his eyes raking down my back. Watch him as he lifts his hands to the zipper, one of his fingers brushing along my exposed skin. Am I imagining it, or is his finger shaking?

My heart is pounding so loud I worry he can hear it. I feel the heat of him everywhere. He works the zipper a little, wiggling it until it lets go of the fabric, and then he slowly—soslowly—raises it. His knuckle traces a soft line up my spine, leaving a trail of sparks behind that forces me to swallow a gasp. I watch him every moment. I can’t look away. But his eyes stay on my back, on his hands, on the way he’s justbarelytouching me. And when he reaches the top of the zipper, he releases it, his hands ghosting across my shoulders and down my arms as he towers over me. They pause at my hips, so close to touching me that I can practically feel the weight of his palms, but then he drops his hands to his sides.

Finally—finally—he meets my eyes in the mirror. His deep brown eyes simmer like warm chocolate, his gaze rooting me to the floor. I can barely breathe as I watch him watch me.

“Good?” he asks finally, his voice low and ragged.

It’s the exhaustion, I tell myself. He’s so,sotired.

“All good,” I reply.

He nods again. “I’ll go get, uh, what’s-her-name so she can do the measurements or whatever.” His eyes drop down to the dress once more, and then he turns, slipping back through the curtain.

My heart is in my throat.

I’m breathing so hard I worry I might bust a seam in this dress.

Whatwasthat?

The curtain flies open, and Birgit stands in the opening, a pincushion tied to her wrist, her eyes appraising every inch of me, and not a bit like Toby’s did. I look for him on the bench in the hall, but I don’t find him before she whooshes the curtain shut again.

“Not many alterations. Ees good.” Birgit starts to pull and pin, and I swear to god she could stick me right in the ass with one of those straight pins and I wouldn’t notice. At one point she pinches my side and says, “Breath normal. You suck in, dress will not fit right.” And that’s when I realize I’ve been holding in a deep breath, my muscles taut.

Fromneed.

“Hey, Pippin, I’m really beat. You mind if I just head out?” Toby calls from the other side of the curtain. The sound of his voice, still rough and just a little off, sends a bolt of heat to my lower belly. So much so that it takes me a moment to process that he’s leaving.

“Yeah, okay,” I croak out. He’s leaving. Shit. What is going on? What the hellwasthat? I’d try Dr. Nora’s honesty tactic and straight-up ask him, but it’s too late. All I can do is listen to his retreating footsteps.

Chapter23

Toby

Dogs can’t operate MRI machines. But cats can.

Autocorrect really kills that punchline. CAT scan. Cats can. Get it?

I stare down at the text, Toby’s first sign of life since he left the bridal salon and—I assume—passed out for a solid twelve hours. I’m comforted by the fact that it’s one of his usual ridiculous dad jokes, even if this one is particularly awful.

But also—he’s sending me a typical dad joke after he looked at me like that? After he touched me likethat?

I read and reread the text as I climb the stairs to the attic, having just finished checking in on Saturday lunch prep down in the kitchen. Fernando found another new guy, this one a girl named Kylie whose knife skills are ninja-level and who showed up for her shift a solid fifteen minutes early. She seems more than competent, meaning I can leave lunch in their hands and head upstairs to go over wedding tasks.

I’m buried in the I-To-Do app as I climb the stairs. I shove open the door to the attic and step inside to find Polly and Mackenzie wrapped around each other in Polly’s bed, Mackenzie’s hand kneading Polly’s ass cheek at they make out like one of them is about to ship off to war.

I groan and fling my hands over my eyes, thunking myself in the forehead with my phone. “Come on, you guys. You have a whole-ass condo to yourselves. Why would you want to hook up in a twenty-year-old twin bed?”

“Because it’s hot,” Polly says, sitting up. Her cheeks are flushed as she smoothes the back of her hair. “Plus, this is one of our last chances.”

The ball of lead that appears in my gut whenever I’m reminded of the impending sale starts rolling around, disturbing the tomato sandwich I ate for lunch.

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