Vegas Knot (✔️) | Love Travels #1

Five

If I could have taken the dress off right there in the dressing room, I would have. But the barrage of questions I was sure to get from my friends made me do as they wanted. And what they wanted was to see me in a wedding dress.

It's possible this will be their only chance, so I might as well let them have their moment.

The consultant helps me attach a veil and a headpiece, picking up the back of the dress for me as we walk. When I round the last corner and emerge onto the store floor, I do a little twirl for the sake of Carla and Lorena, only stumbling over my feet once. "So, what do you think?"

Neither of them says anything, so I turn to face them and slam my hands onto my hips. "Excuse me. I'm doing this for you and I expect an appropriate response."

Lorena is brave enough to pick her jaw up off the floor and answer me. "I think it was made for you. You have to get it."

"Get it for what, Lorena?"

"I don't know. We can do a photoshoot or something. You can save it for your next wedding."

Next wedding? I wasn't even planning on having the first one.

"Or take some real wedding photos with your husband."

"Carla!" Lorena and I chastise in unison.

"What? I snuck in a look at your photos. He's hot."

"Hot isn't everything, Carla. I need more than that."

"Okay, fine. But I'm just saying it's not a bad start."

"I'm not getting the dress, Carla. I have nowhere to wear it, anyway."

"Right, because you're a married woman." Lorena crosses her arms and pouts. "But I think if you asked him he'd do another wedding. If he needs some convincing we can send him a picture of you in that dress."

"You have no idea if he's even a decent person," I try to get things back on track as the girls fawn over my dress and hold up jewellery to my neck to see how it would look.

"Even drunk, I'm confident you could never marry someone awful. So I'll reserve my judgement of your husband until I meet him for real."

"Which might never happen."

"We'll see, won't we?"

Lorena interrupts us with a finger over our lips and a shush. "You need to go," she says to me, eyes wide as the bell on the door dings.

"Go where?" Carla's doe eyed innocence blocks her from witnessing what the rest of us can clearly see. My asshole ex-boyfriend has just waltzed his way into the dress shop, supermodel finacée Emiko on his arm.

"Why does this always happen to me?"

A frantic attempt to rush back into the change rooms is foiled by the bubbly enthusiasm of Emiko. "Oh, my God, Bianca, is that you? You are gorgeous!" she shouts, bounding over to wrap me in a hug. "I haven't seen you in so long but look at you. More stunning than ever."

I want to hate her. I really really want to hate her. But I also want to hear her gush about how beautiful I am for at least the next ten minutes.

She waves over at my ex. "Tyrone, come here. Doesn't Bianca look gorgeous? I didn't know you were getting married, too. You look amazing. I'll never measure up to this."

"If you want a dress as gorgeous as you are, you came to the right place. I'm sure it will be amazing. Congratulations, by the way." Trying to keep a straight face and not flip my ex off is taking every ounce of my politeness, so I'm sure my smile falters. But Emiko doesn't deserve that.