Page 110 of Just One Kiss

Quinn linked arms with Carly and gave her a squeeze. “Well, there is the small matter of my bridal shower.”

Carly gasped. “Oh, Q. I’m supposed to plan that, aren’t I?”

Quinn shrugged. “Knowing Beverly, it’s probably mostly done. She was going to get started because she didn’t want you to be stressed about it, but I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’ll call her,” Carly promised. How could she have forgotten one of her main duties as maid of honor? She’d always thought she’d make such a wonderful maid of honor—obviously she’d mentally exaggerated her own abilities.

“Good. She told me at Sunday dinner she’d been searching online for shower games and she found one called ‘Put a Ring On it.’” Quinn shot her sister a look. “Please don’t let that happen.”

Carly laughed. “I promise. I won’t. I much prefer the one called ‘Lady Marmalade.’”

Quinn pulled her arm away. “You’re hilarious.”

“It sounds like you have everything all figured out,” Carly said, willing herself not to so much as glance at the fudge shop.

Quinn stopped. “Not everything.” She’d stopped directly in front of Ever After, the only store in Harbor Pointe that carried formal gowns. Nearly every homecoming, prom, bridesmaid and wedding dress was purchased here, and Carly hadn’t been inside since high school.

Before she could reply, she saw the door to the fudge shop open out of the corner of her eye, and the leggy blonde walked out onto the sidewalk.

“Great,” she said, shoving Quinn through the door of Ever After.

The building, like all of the buildings downtown, had a brightly colored exterior, eclectic and charming at the same time. The brick on the outside of Ever After had been painted Pepto-Bismol pink, with large display windows on the main floor. The second story was lined with tall, skinny windows encased in thick white molding. The wordsEver Afterhad been painted on the front window in a beautiful hand-lettered font.

The store was charmingly old with an equally charming (and equally old) owner named Dorothy Mischief. Carly had a theory that the old woman had made up that name years ago, but she had no proof.

Dorothy, or “Dot” as her friends lovingly called her, had been a Harbor Pointe staple for as long as Carly could remember, and her store, small and quaint, actually did quite well.

As soon as the sisters strolled through the front door, Dot clapped her pudgy hands together and gasped. “Girls! Look who it is.”

She rushed out from behind the counter toward them, and Carly looked around the empty store, wondering who Dot had been shouting at. She leaned toward Quinn and whispered, “Are you famous now?”

Quinn shushed her and smiled at Dot. “Mrs. Mischief, I bet you know why I’m here.”

“All those weddings you’ve worked on this past year, and now it’s finally your turn.” Dot took Quinn by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “It’s about time you married that hunky Olympian.”

Quinn’s cheeks pinked. “I was just waiting for him to ask me.”

“Well, I already started a list of dresses I think would look stunning on you,” Dot said. “Polly!” She called out the name as a round girl with dark hair emerged on the landing above them and Carly couldn’t help but feel like they’d entered the letter shop inMary Poppins. “Can you pull the dresses for Miss Collins?”

Quinn beamed. “That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

Dot glanced at Carly as if she’d only just that second realized she was standing there. “And we haven’t seen you in here in ages, Miss Collins. I assume you’re the maid of honor?”

“I am,” Carly said. She didn’t melt when people talked about weddings. She didn’t swoon or sigh or even care much about the pomp and circumstance. A wedding, to her, was secondary—it was the marriage she craved most.

The thought startled her. Not that she’d had it—she’d always known she wanted a real family, and a husband was required for such a thing—but because she’d had it so openly. Typically she was better about deceiving herself.

“What colors are we thinking?” Dot glanced at Quinn.

“Teal? Peacock blue? Aqua? Something in that family.”

Dot brought her hands to her lips and squealed. “So beautiful. Let me see what I can do.”

She led them to the back of the store where the changing rooms were. The only problem? The changing rooms had no mirrors. Carly assumed this was a sales tactic on the part of sneaky Dorothy Mischief. After all, if a bride exited the changing room to all the oohs and aahs of her adoring friends and family, wouldn’t that make the dress all the more appealing?

Within minutes, a rack of white dresses had been positioned just outside the dressing rooms. Some were beaded and elegant. Others were puffy and princess-like. One was short and another sleeveless, and no two dresses were the same.

Now Quinn was the one swooning. “They’re so beautiful.” She pulled one off the rack, the one with a tulle skirt that would make it impossible to hang back up. “Don’t you love it?”

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