Page 6 of Before You Say I Do
Karen grinned. “Not me.” She leaned forward. “How much did you get paid for this last one, then?”
“Enough to buy you dinner later.”
“Excellent.”
“And how is the world of lingerie? Any great strides forward in the past week? Have you managed to get the whole of the UK wearing electric blue bras and matching bottoms yet?”
“Not yet, but it’s all part of my master plan. They will succumb, it’s just a matter of time.”
Chapter 4
Abby’s armsached after the hard gym session earlier. However, it was a good ache. The sort of muscle fatigue that would morph into strength, and leave her feeling confident when she walked down the aisle, as well as on her honeymoon to the Maldives. Marcus had booked that. Without consulting her.
He’d said it was a surprise, but she’d wheedled it out of him. While most brides would be thrilled about sandy beaches, secluded coves, and five-star luxury, Abby just saw the long flight.
She didn’t like flying.
Scratch that, shehatedflying, especially long haul. Plus, she couldn’t focus on the honeymoon yet. The wedding was looming too large.
It was another reason she’d gone to the gym this morning, to work out some of her tension. It wasn’t her usual haunt, but she’d bought a month’s pass to prepare for getting married.
Should she be more excited about two weeks in paradise? Long, lazy mornings in bed, brunch on the deck, afternoons spent languishing in sunshine? Probably.
She focused on the image in her head, concentrating hard as she walked down her street.
Still nothing.
Her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She shook her head, fished it out and glanced at the screen. She didn’t recognise the number. Was she about to get an idiot on the phone? She’d had loads of those companies trying to see if she’d had an accident at work recently. She clicked the green button, and lifted her head to the sun trying to peak through the clouds above.
“Hello? Is that Abby?” The voice was strong and sure.
“It is. If you’re trying to sell me insurance or get me to sign up to anything, I’m not interested.”
“I wasn’t going to. My name’s Jordan. Marcus contacted me about helping you out. I run a service called Professional Bridesmaid.”
Abby stopped walking and blinked. Up ahead, a window cleaner was balanced on a tall, terraced house, his ladder wobbling as he made his ascent. Should she walk under the ladder, where there was more space? Or walk around it, but risk getting run over by a delivery rider? She wasn’t superstitious. She was an intelligent woman who believed everything happened for a reason. She walked under the ladder and took a deep breath. No bucket of water fell on her. She’d survived so far. Let’s see what the conversation with Jordan held.
“Yes. Hello. He did tell me, but I have to be honest with you and say I’m not sure you’re going to be needed. Marcus is trying to make things easy for me, but I’ve already got a wedding planner and a maid of honour. I’m not sure what there is for you to do.”
There was a pause before Jordan replied. “It’s not an uncommon response, Abby. I totally get your misgivings. But you’d be surprised at what I can help you with, and in doing so smooth the process so you don’t feel a single bump in the road. But none of it works unless you want me there.”
“I know that, I’m in business. Business is all about relationships.” She sighed. This woman sounded reasonable, and assured. Abby was sure she was good at her job. She just couldn’t nail down exactly what the job was. “Look, Marcus did this without consulting me. I told him I’d meet you and see what you could offer, and I’ll honour that. Further than that, I can’t promise anything.”
“That’s how most of my relationships start out.”
Okay. “Where are you based?”
“I’m in Brighton, but I can travel to you. I understand you’re in Balham, which I could get to in a bit over an hour. I can come and see you this weekend if that’s convenient?”
Abby cast her mind forward to the weekend. She had a barbecue at her friend’s house on Sunday, but Saturday could work. “Can you do Saturday morning?”
Jordan didn’t hesitate. “I can. I’ll connect on WhatsApp. Then I can fill you in on my services, and we can start from there.”
It sounded almost plausible. Not like this was a made-up service. “Sounds good.” She paused. “Tell me, Jordan, how many brides have you been a fake bridesmaid for?”
“Twenty-seven so far. With another five booked for later in the year. You were lucky I had a cancellation, so I can fit you in. But like I say, only if you want it to happen.”
That figure stopped Abby in her tracks. “Twenty-seven? Wow. That’s a lot of bridal help. Who knew there was so much need?”
