We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 32

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| CAPE MAY |

THE FITTING

It's the first week of March. After our impromptu engagement and two short weeks back in Seattle, I'm finally home again. Finally with B again. Well, not exactly.

I was with him last night, sneaking around his mom's house like we were in high school again. Right now I'm at the Fitting.

Trix booked an ass crack of dawn appointment at a bridal shop for her fitting and the bridesmaids' dress selection. I follow Trix, Meg and Whit into a spacy boujee boutique with a front room that looks like it was made entirely of white and gold. In fact, I don't think they'd let any other colors inside.

Meg lugs me along to the back room where the brightly colored dresses hide out of sight. Trix has instructed us to select whichever dress we like so long as it's a poppy seed coral.

So with one hand on my phone and the other wet with coffee cup condensation, I commence the search.

It doesn't take long to find three different dress styles I love. After a mini fashion show for the bride, I decide on a fit and flowy gown with crisscrossed straps and a nice open back.

"Man we cut it close, girl." Meg exhales exiting the bridal boutique. "Wedding's in like two months."

"I know, but I wanted all of us to be here for it." Trix throws me mad shade, subdued by her coy smile.

"In my defense, I was home in January." I remind them,

"Yea, yea." Trix rolls her eyes. "Welp, that's it. Wedding details officially set in stone!"

"Finally," Meg laughs.

"Everything's just perfect now. Dresses are breathtaking. I wonder how the guy's are getting on." Whit flips her hair over her shoulder.

"Should be almost done," Trix says, clicking her bag shut.

"Nate says not yet." Meg reads a text from her phone.

"Should we eat lunch while we wait?" Whit asks, eyes bright.

Annoyingly bright.

"Sure," Trix agrees.

"In honor of finding dresses," Meg laughs.

"Ah yes," I sigh. "A celebratory lunch. With celebratory drinks."

The four of us traipse across the town streets, bags in hand, and decide on an airy Mediterranean bar with.

It's bright and white inside and reminds me of the bridal shop we just left. I settle down at the table next to Meg and across from Whit. I cannot look up without finding her gorgeous almond eyes staring at me. I decide she could be Greek herself before trying to focus solely on examining the menu.

We get drinks –something fancy with gin and grapefruit –and toast to the day.

"Actually," Whit giggles. "I have a bit more than finding a bridesmaid dress to celebrate."

Meg and Trix, clearly intrigued with glee, both smile wide, eyes bulging in unison.

My heart catches, does a double beat to make up for the momentary stop. I take a deep breath that I hide behind bringing my glass to my lips.

"Alex and I are moving in together!" Whit beams.

"What!"

"Oh my god! NO!"

Trix and Meg clap their hands. Whit rewards them with her signature hair flip.

"Great!" I add a beat too late, though I doubt anyone's noticed.

I can't explain why I care. So Alex, Mr. Good Time –No Rules –Just for Fun, is settling down. He's my friend. That makes Whit my friend by proxy. This should be good news.

"Thank you! He just asked last night. I kept it in all morning, but I'm just so overtaken. I'm so happy to share it with you girls," Whit says.

You girls. I chance a glance and see her eyes flit to mine for a fraction of a second before looking at Meg and Trix. I react quickly enough, returning her smile and then turning to Trix and Meg.

Fuck's wrong with you, Emmy. Breathe, bitch.

So Alex and Whit are moving in together after like 3 days of dating. Go them.

It ain't a race and Brooks and I aren't behind. We're just making up our own pace. I let my inner zen take over, relaxing as I feel the label ring against my skin.

What we have is better than moving in together.

Still, a midnight proposal does not a concrete plan make.

"We'll need to find a new place, of course. Can't stay in his little loft! Maybe close to you guys," Whit says, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Meg.

I'm thankful for the salted beet hummus put in front of me. Thankful I remember how to eat.

We get through the lunch, navigating gossip and chit-chat in between bites. My fingers are absentmindedly playing with Brooks's engagement ring, which I have not taken off in two weeks. Most of its color is off and the label became smooth under the stress of multiple showers, not unlike a seashell losing its edging in the rolling ocean.

OK my water bottle label ring is not a seashell, but it's as good as. It's the pearl to my oyster. I was amazed when no one called me out for it, especially considering the peculiar finger choice. I don't often wear debris as jewelry.

I could have sworn Trix's eyes glazed over it once, but she didn't say anything. I'm sort of envious now, seeing all the attention bestowed upon Whit just for moving in with her boyfriend.

But what would I even have said? –What will I say? What has Brooks said to anyone? Why didn't we discuss any of the tactics whilst waltzing to T-Swift?

Fools.

An hour passes and the restaurant is crowding now. We walk out front, each of us digging in our bags for our life extension. Aka our phones.

Brooks has snapped me several selfies of him in a Navy tux. Oddly reminiscent of the Star Resort launch party –of the Roaring 20s party –of every time he's been spiffed up really.

"Ok, everyone ready for Back Bay tonight?" Trix asks.

Apart from the selfies, I see a string of suggestive emojis from Brooks and three texts from Lauren, a few more social media notifications and a missed call from mom. I tuck my phone back in the side pocket and pull out the lip balm.

"I'm always ready for a pre-wedding party," I smirk.