Page 65 of All My Witches
“Great.” I refused to look him in the eye. “I’m looking forward toit.”
“IAM GOINGTO RIPthat old lady’s throat out with a pair of tweezers,” I announced when I found Clove and Thistle standing in the middle of the bridal suite a few minutes later. They both wore pastel dresses straight out of a nightmare. “Why do you look like pieces of saltwatertaffy?”
“Because apparently Aunt Tillie is a diabolical loon,” Thistle replied, twirling in front of the mirror so her peach-colored dress fanned out. “I truly hate thatwoman.”
“That’s what she wants.” I glanced around, the leading edge of my irritation dulling. “I suppose there’s a dress I have towear.”
Clove, who seemed more at ease in her mint-colored dress, pointed toward a garment bag hanging over a dressing room door. “There.”
“Is it as hideous as yourdresses?”
“We haven’t looked yet,” Thistle replied. “We were too busy ogling the monstrosities Jan laid out for us. She’s an evil woman, by theway.”
“She doesn’t seem that bad to me.” I was resigned as I trudged forward. “I guess we should get this show on theroad.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Thistleasked.
“Isn’t it obvious? We’re stuck in a soap opera world, and I’ve officially had my fill of it. I want to gohome.”
“We all feel that way,” Clove offered. “You seem a lot worse off than when we saw you ten minutesago.”
“I’mfine.”
“You’re pretty far from fine,” Thistle argued. “What’s goingon?”
“Yeah, spill,” Clovesaid.
I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what was wrong and then snapped it shut. Now wasn’t the time to whine and feel sorry for myself. “It doesn’t matter.” I vigorously shook my head. “It’snothing.”
“It’s something to you,” Thistle countered. “Maybe you should tell us so we can hash itout.”
“I’d rather just get through this.” I grabbed the garment bag and yanked down the zipper, internally gagging at the mountains of white taffeta that rolled out. “Oh, this is going to bebad.”
“Of course it’s going to be bad,” Clove said. “Aunt Tillie was the wedding designer. What did youexpect?”
“I’d better get this on.” I tugged the dress to free it from the bag. I would be swimming in it by the time I was dressed. “I have a feeling this is going to be a typical soap wedding, so hopefully I won’t be wearing it verylong.”
“You mean you think it will be interrupted,” Thistle surmised. “I’ve been wondering that, too. I hope whatever interrupts it isn’t terrible … like another bear orsomething.”
“We all hope that.” I unsnapped my jeans. “I just know this dress is going to suck yetiballs.”
“Well, you picked the right color if that’s going to happen,” Thistle said brightly. “You’ll practically disappear into the landscape if that becomes an issue. Get in it. We can’t make fun of you until we seeit.”
Oh, well, that was something to look forwardto.
“IJUST CAN’T EVEN … .”
Thistle fell to the floor ten minutes later. I knew how bad the dress looked. I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror before stepping out of the dressing room. It was even worse than I thought, if that waspossible.
“Don’t hold back on my account,” I saiddryly.
“Oh, it’s not so bad.” Clove’s sympathetic nature was on full display as she circled me. “It’s just a little …retro.”
“Retro?” Thistle laughed so hard I thought she might split a pastel seam. “She looks like a giant cotton ball … with additional ruffles just in case we thought the miles of lace were toosubtle.”
I bit back a hot retort. It wasn’t Thistle’s fault, of course. If I wasn’t agitated with Landon, I would probably be as amused as she was. Instead, my temper threatened to explode and I couldn’t stop scratching the back of my neck where the lace seemed to gather together into a choker of doom and chafe the hell out of myskin.
“Knock it off,” Clove warned, extending a threatening finger in Thistle’s direction. “You’re not helpingmatters.”
