Page 58 of Maid of Dishonor

“How is that—oh! Oh, no!” Her face drains of color as she immediately goes to her knees next to us. “Oh, goodness—what happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, because the storm clouds in Carter’s eyes tell me he’s in overprotective mode and is about to blame this poor woman for everything. But it’s not her fault the dress was too tight, and I don’t want her to think we’re going to sue her or something, either. “I’m fine,” I repeat. “The dress is just a little tight. And I might be a bit dehydrated, now that I think of it. I haven’t had much to drink today.”

“Oh, please, let me go get you a glass of water, ma’am. I’m so, so sorry. We’ll get that dress taken out, of course.”

“That would be great,” I say, letting my body relax back into Carter’s chest. “Thank you.”

She nods, looking flustered, and bustles out.

Carter and I are silent for a second, until I feel his arms snake around my waist from behind. “You okay?” he says, his voice rough.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine now that the dress is unzipped. It was just too tight, I think.” My words are breathy, and I hope Carter doesn’t read into it.

I feel him nod, the movement disturbing my hair, and then I feel his chin rest on my shoulder. His arms tighten further around me for a brief second before he moves them. I hold in a sigh of disappointment, instead looking over my shoulder at him.

“Help me up?” I say.

He nods quickly. “Yeah, of course.” His hands move to my hips, and he very gently lifts me off his lap—with seeminglynoeffort, by the way—until I’m seated beside him. I curl my legs up and start to undo the buckle on one shoe, while Carter reaches over and silently undoes the other, his fingers deft and gentle.

Be still my heart.

At that point the flustered saleswoman-slash-seamstress comes back with a full cup of water, followed by an older woman who introduces herself as the manager and apologizes profusely. It takes several minutes for me to reassure her that I’m not upset, that I don’t blame her, and that I’m not going to sue. After they’re sufficiently placated, Carter stands. Then he holds his hands out and pulls me up. I don’t even have to worry about the dress falling down, because it’s practically too tight even unzipped. Still, I head right back to the dressing room and take it off, slipping my shirt and shorts back on. When I reemerge, I pass the saleswoman the dress, and we agree to do the rest of the fitting a different day.

On the way out, Carter’s phone rings. He looks at it and then nudges me.Maya, he mouths as he answers it.

“Hey, Maya,” he says, beckoning me closer. We move away from the entrance to the store and instead stand off to the side, where Carter removes the phone from his ear and puts it on speaker. “Sam is here too,” he says.

“Hi, Sam,” Maya says, and I blink in surprise. She sounds very subdued.

“Hi,” I say, my voice uncertain. “What’s going on?”

“I think—” She breaks off, taking a deep breath before she continues. “I may be reconsidering this wedding.”

Carter enthusiastically but silently punches the air. “What’s making you unsure?” he says, his voice at odds with the completely quiet celebration he’s now having.

“Asign,” Maya says, and her tone makes me picture her shuddering dramatically.

The horoscope. She read the horoscope.

“What was the sign?” I say.

“I went with Chet to the bank to open a joint bank account,” she says, sounding miserable, “and I vomited all over the man’s desk. Everywhere, Sam. It was everywhere. On his computer keyboard, on the paperwork—everywhere.”

“Oh,” I say, stunned, because that’s not at all what I was expecting. “Oh. That’s—wow. I’m so sorry, Maya. That sounds horrible. Are you feeling better now?”

“For now,” she says darkly. “But I know in ten minutes I’m going to be running for the trash can again. And Chet was no help. He just thinks it’s gross.”

I mean, to be fair, it is gross. But it’s also understandable, and not at all Maya’s fault.

“That sucks,” Carter says, and I jab him in the ribs, because he sounds way too happy. He cringes, then clears his throat loudly. “That sucks,” he says again, looking questioningly at me, and I nod my approval. “But you know, if Chet isn’t supporting you right now, he might not be the guy for you anyway,” he points out.

“Yeah, maybe,” Maya says. She sounds so glum that I wish I were with her so I could give her a hug. “I don’t know. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that—yeah. That maybe I might reconsider.” Her voice is stronger as she goes on, “I believe in omens, Carter, and no matter which way I look at it, I just can’t imagine throwing up as being a good omen.”

“One would think,” Carter agrees. “And you know, Sam also just passed out from trying on her maid of honor dress—ow,” he says as I stomp hard on his foot.

“Carter? What happened?” Maya says, sounding concerned.

“Nothing,” he says, speaking through clenched teeth and glaring at me.

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