Page 10 of Before You Say I Do
She steered Delta into John Lewis, one of London’s most famous department stores. As usual, their senses were assaulted as they strolled into the beauty department, all glaring lights and floral scents. Abby took a breath as they strolled past the make-up counters, the impossibly shiny sales assistants on high alert. The smell of make-up always felt like home to Abby. She used to be fascinated watching her mum put it on as a child.
They got on the escalator, their destination the second-floor swimwear department. Delta had agreed to help Abby choose a bikini for her honeymoon, as long as Abby agreed to drink alcohol with her afterwards. The rooftop bar was their final destination.
Abby brushed her friend’s arm. “How are you?”
“How am I?” Delta clutched the side of the escalator. “Heartbroken. Miserable. Sober, which is a surprise.”
“I don’t think your work would take kindly to you coming in drunk.”
“I know, it’s so unfair.”
They got off the escalator and walked to the next before resuming their conversation.
“Have you heard from her?”
“Nora?” Delta swept her brown hair behind her left ear.
“No, Santa Claus. Of course, Nora.”
Delta shook her head as they reached their chosen floor. “I haven’t. But then, I didn’t expect to. She made it pretty clear when she left this wasn’t a decision she was going to reverse. ‘You and I have run our course’, I believe were her exact words.”
Abby winced. “Ouch. She’s read too many self-help books, clearly.”
That raised a smile from Delta. “It did kinda feel like I was being assessed when she did it. I failed the assessment, by the way.”
Abby gave Delta’s arm a squeeze as they walked between over-priced blouses and cripplingly expensive jackets. She stopped, and held up a glittery gold blazer, checking the price tag and making a face. “Would it make you feel any better if I bought you this?”
Delta laughed. “I’m not planning a new career as a magician.”
“You could rock this anyway,” Abby told her. She whirled around and pointed at a pink chiffon blouse opposite. “With that pink blouse, we could get you another date in no time. That outfit screams ladykiller.”
The sad smile was back. “It’s a little too soon for jokes.”
Abby put the jacket back on the rack, before threading her arm through Delta’s. “Never lose your sense of humour, D. That’s when the bastards win.” She paused, glancing Delta’s way. “Anyhow, I’ve got news. Something to take your mind off you-know-who.”
Delta turned her head. “I’m all ears.”
“Marcus has hired a professional bridesmaid for me. And she’s… well, she’s actually quite nice. Sane. Normal. Not society at all.” Attractive, too. But Abby wasn’t going to focus on that part. “Marcus says she handles Marjorie like a dream. The upshot is, he’s thrown money at my biggest headache and the headache has gone away. There are plus points to having money, it turns out.”
Delta stopped as they approached the swimwear, and scratched her head. “What exactly is a professional bridesmaid? You’ve already got actual bridesmaids who know you, plus a wedding planner.”
“We have, but she works for Marjorie, so she’s not on my side.” Abby sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Meanwhile, Jordan is going to be my right-hand woman, helping me out with whatever I need. Including the hen weekend.”
Delta’s frown deepened. “Isn’t that my job?”
Abby had to be delicate. “Yes, but you’ve been a bit preoccupied of late. Marcus has hired this woman to help, so I say let her. Then we can both relax and just enjoy my hen. What do you think?” If she’d asked this a month ago, Delta wouldn’t have been amenable. Now though, her face told a different story.
“I can’t help but feel I’m letting you down.”
Abby hugged her best friend. “You’re not. Think of it as doing me a favour. I need to give this woman something to do. You’ve already got the ball rolling, so it’s been a team effort. Let her take over from here.”
Delta pursed her lips. “I’m still your maid of honour?”
Abby nodded emphatically. “Of course. You’re my best friend. Jordan can’t replace that, can she?”
Delta approached a nearby swimwear display, before turning back to Abby, her face nearly back to normal. “So, this Jordan.” Delta paused. “Who the hell’s called Jordan apart from people in American sitcoms, by the way?”
“It was good enough for Katie Price.” Abby grinned at her own joke.
