The seamstress inspected each alteration she’d made and frowned as she examined the hidden back zipper. “It is a little snug here,” she said, running her fingers down Alexa’s spine.
The French fries Alexa had gotten at the drive-thru on the way to the fitting sat like a rock in her stomach. Snug . . . because she’d been eating junk food nonstop the past three days. Ever since having sex with Grant in the bathroom at the inn had left her feeling so strange. So unsettled. So . . . unsure.
Even more than she’d already been. She just wasn’t sure if she was making something out of nothing. Or allowing Grant to walk all over me, a little voice whispered.
The older woman met Alexa’s eyes in the mirror. “Hmm. Maybe I should—”
“Don’t worry,” Alexa said, shaking her head and putting on a smile despite the tendril of panic snaking through her veins. “We just did some celebrating this past weekend. I overindulged a little. But it’ll be fine by the wedding.” Alexa would make sure of it. Grant wanted everything to be perfect—including her. Maybe even especially her. And she certainly wouldn’t make him proud if she was busting out the seams of her six-thousand-dollar gown.
So stupid. Why hadn’t she thought more about the fitting today?
“Okay, then. If you’re sure,” the seamstress said with a smile. “Let’s get this off of you. You’re all set.”
An hour later, Alexa was back at the office, that rock still heavy in her stomach.
“Hey, sweetie,” Christina Lee said from behind the ornate reception desk as Alexa entered the building. Alexa and Christina had started working at Slater Enterprises at nearly the same time—about a month before Tyler’s death, and they’d been friendly ever since. Friendly enough that Alexa had asked her to be her maid of honor, and Christina had agreed. They might’ve even become much closer, but Grant’s pursuit of Alexa back then seemed to have scared some people off of befriending her, like they were afraid Alexa might report back on them to the big boss. But that was better than the people who resented her for their relationship. “How’d the fitting go?”
Alexa leaned against the high desk. “Good. It’s so gorgeous I can barely stand it.”
“Of course it is,” Christina said, grinning. “Less than two weeks now.”
Something which should’ve unleashed excitement inside of her, but . . . didn’t. “I can hardly believe it,” she said, forcing a smile of her own.
“What’s left on the list that I can help with?” she asked.
“Honestly, not too much. I visited the venue yesterday and confirmed the menu and did a little shopping last night. So things are on track, but let me check with Grant about his schedule. We should get together for dinner one night this week.” Assuming he had a late meeting so she wasn’t taking time away from him.
“You know I’d love that,” Christina said. A phone call came in through the switchboard. “Oh, duty beckons.”
Alexa gave a little wave and made her way to her office on the second floor. She probably ought to search out Betsy, Maggie, and Ellen, other lunch friends at work who had agreed to be bridesmaids, to keep them in the loop of wedding goings-on, but she found that she wasn’t as up to it as she wanted to be. There’d be other chances to tell them about her fun weekend and the amazing party favors that’d finally come in and just how gorgeous her dress really was another day this week.
Instead, she dropped into the chair at her desk and threw herself into reviewing the construction punch list from the model home she was decorating. The place was amazing—the kind of home she’d always dreamed of living in. Spacious and light and airy, comfortable and well designed, chic without being stuffy. She’d spent the morning on-site doing a walk-through with the foreman and compiling the list which noted incomplete installations that needed to be corrected and incidental damage that needed to be fixed. Furniture to stage the model would be arriving this Thursday, so she was hoping the guys would work through most of the list before the deliveries began. All of which was leading up to her deadline next Wednesday to have the place ready for Grant’s stamp of approval. That gave her eight days. And today was half gone.
Her gaze slipped to the clock display at the bottom corner of her computer screen. Maybe I should skip class tonight.
She twisted her lips as she debated, and quickly ruled it out. It might only be her one-credit professional development course, but she was already going to miss one class during their honeymoon. And since the class only met once a week, not going would be the equivalent of missing a whole week’s worth of material.