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“Yeah,” Sam muttered, her voice rougher now, and tinged with something bitter.

She cleared her throat, forcing an uncomfortable smile, trying to break away from the unpleasant feelings. “Either way, it’s not a big deal. It just threw me off, I guess.”

Jess’ face evened out with something Sam couldn’t quite place. Maybe pity. Maybe something more.

“Well, if itdoesfeel like a big deal,that’s okay, too,” Jess said quietly.

Sam’s jaw clenched, the muscles ticking beneath her skin. Then she cleared her throat, looking for anything that would change the subject. That would bring back the easy, happy air they’d had before.

She smiled again, running a hand over the back of her neck. “Yeah, well, it helped having you there last night. Thanks for—all of that.”

Jess’s gaze softened, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d just lost a small, private battle. “Of course,” she said, almost whispering. “You know I’m always here for you.”

Sam looked away. It was too much, the way Jess said it, like she meant every word.

“Thanks,” she muttered, finally meeting Jess’s gaze.

Then she rolled her shoulders, settling back into the couch, glad to let that conversation pass.

“Okay, what’s next?”

Chapter eight

The dress boutique was tucked away on a quiet street, the kind of place that oozed sophistication with its polished hardwood floors and the faint scent of lavender hanging in the air.

Sam had barely managed to snag a coffee on the way over after a restless night. Scarlett’s bachelorette weekend was coming up fast, and between work, wedding prep, and the company's acquisition, her brain felt like it had been running a marathon.

Scarlett, however, was completely in her element. She moved through the boutique with purpose, a clipboard in hand and her eyes scanning every rack like she was planning a military operation.

“Okay,” Scarlett said, turning to Jess. “The Maid of Honor dresses are over there.” She nodded to some smaller, colorful dresses in the corner. “But I already called ahead to have them put aside some of the ones you said you liked on their website so you could try them on.”

“Oh,” Jess mumbled with a clearly forced smile.

Sam shot her an amused smirk, knowing how much she probably wanted to avoid that.

“Wanna look at what they have, though?” Scarlett asked, rifling through a nearby rack. “They might have more stuff here in person.”

Jess shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll start with those and look at the rest if they don’t work out.”

Scarlett muttered something absentmindedly as she directed each of them toward some racks with dresses that fit the style she was going for.

“So,” Sam muttered, her eyes drifting over the racks of dresses that seemed to stretch endlessly, “do you have anything in mind yet?”

“I think I want something with lace,” Scarlett answered as she circled a new rack. “Something classy and timeless, but also modern.”

Sam nodded, having absolutely no idea what that meant. She turned to Jess, arching her brows in question.

Jess smirked as she pointed her toward one of the walls. “Start with those.”

They fell into a quiet rhythm, searching through the racks. Every so often, one of them would hold up a dress for inspection, eliciting nods, cringes, or half-laughs depending on how wildly off the mark the pick was. Scarlett turned a lace dress in her hands, frowning at it like it had personally offended her, while Jess hummed as she thumbed through a line of options.

“Hi, ladies,” a cheerful voice cut through the low hum of their activity. They all turned to see a saleswoman with a warm, practiced smile. “Amber’s tied up with another client, but I’m here if you need anything. Just flag me down when you’re ready to try something on. I’m Tess.”

Sam immediately turned to Jess, whose head whipped around to her at the same time.Their eyes locked, and Jess’s mouth twitched at the corners, already fighting back laughter.

Sam snorted, unable to help herself. Jess clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking as silent laughter rippled through her.

“Okay,” Scarlett answered, shooting Sam a questioning glance. “Thanks.”