Page 69 of On Edge

But when I look inside, for the stitching where Joules said every bride’s name is supposedly sewn…

There’s nothing there.

Joules flurries in once I have it on, fussing and pinning.

She beams. “There.”

And pulls the curtain aside.

At the far end of the room, a giant floor mirror leans against one of the walls, like a doorway to another realm. Inside it, another girl with dark, curly hair and wide hazel eyes stares back, straight-jacketed into swathes of tulle and silk, looking petrified beyond reason.

Joules snaps a Polaroid and wafts it about to dry the film. She then pastes it into her daybook, right below the one before it, and shows it to me.

“Oh, look. You and your sister could be twins.”

Between fittingsand copious amounts of tea, and Madeleine cakes served on dainty china plates, I’m done. It’s also nearly 1 p.m. After two hours and the cost of another wedding, I interrupt Joules, explaining to me the different heights at which a veil is worn.

“Do you have a bathroom?”

She points to the back of the shop. While Joules makes me yet another pot of Lady Gray, I hurry to where she directed me, but instead of stopping at the bathrooms, I peer out the back window.

Mundel’s car is there, but no Mundel until I look closer and see him fast asleep in the driver’s seat.

This might work.

Without stopping to consider whether it’s wise, I leave my jacket and hurry through the front of the shop, into busy cobbled streets, wrapping my arms around myself to keep out the cold.The signs to the shopping center cut through the park. The building sticks out like an unwelcome beacon so close to the old part of town that it’s clear to see why the residents kicked up such a fuss when it was built.

By the time I reach the mall, it feels too late.Even so, I tear through the glass doors and dash toward the veggie grill, passing by shops full of the latest fashion trends at full speed. I really want to stop and buy some essentials like underwear and proper cosy pajamas, but that can wait until after I meet my friends.

They haven’t left yet, and I spot them right away. Laine is in a baseball cap and a knit dress with leggings, and Nola is wearing a snow-white eye patch to match her white shirt tucked into leather trousers. She must have come from work.

They see me and grin.

I’m about to wave when I see a reflection of someone wearing a peaked cap who looks like Mundel, following me through the crowd. He’s a few heads behind, but I’d recognize his tweed ensemble anywhere.

My breath hitches. Instinctively, I dart into the nearest shop. Through the glass, I see it is, indeed, Mundel. He’s looking around, searching for something while speaking on his phone.

He’s looking for me.

He must have followed me.

I grab the first thing I see on a rack and head to the changing room, frantically hoping Laine and Nola saw me run into…I glance down at the label of the skimpy underwear in my hand. I’m in Agent Provocateur.

I’m forced to wait a few minutes, and then the main curtain twitches, and I hear Laine’s voice.

“In here,” I hiss.

Both girls barge into the changing room. Laine immediately wraps her arms around me in a death squeeze. Nola is next,though her hug is more of a cool embrace, with a few pats on the back for good measure.

Laine glances around. “So, should we be worried that we’re hiding here?”

“Troy’s guy is outside.”

Laine peers through the curtain as though she can spot him. “You brought him with you?” she hisses.

“No, he followed me.” I let out a little groan.

“Then you don’t have much time.” Nola studies me. “What can we do? How can we help?”