Page 52 of Royal Pain

Chapter 18

Belinda

I step into the dress and have Soraya zip me up. She looks at the both of us in this get up and rolls her eyes at our image.

“How’s Zan doing? Did you talk to him last night?”

“We talk every night. I wish I could be there. But he’s doing okay. Everyone’s trying to be strong for each other,” I say, stepping into my heels.

“Graham said they’ve been talking. He said your man is, to use his word, savvy.”

“I got that impression too. He’s not just a pretty face. Not that I’d complain if he was.”

“When’s the transfer of power? I mean officially.”

“Next month. I hope I’ll be able to be there.”

Walking out of the dressing room into the bridal salon, we head for the mirror.

“What about the funeral?”

“They’re finalizing all the details. The plans have been in place for years.”

“Makes sense for a Royal. You and I have seen the obituaries written for the media well in advance of a public figure’s demise.”

“That always creeped me out, but it’s nothing if not good planning.”

The three-way mirror gives a good view of the bad bridesmaid dress. At least it fits right now. It’s small praise that it looks better than it did three weeks ago.

My new sister-in-law, Susan is an awesome woman, but fashion isn’t her thing. Don’t think my brother gives a damn. She has a hundred other good qualities.

“Debbie Gibson called. She wants her dress back,” Soraya says, reading my mind.

“I know. I’m so glad you have to share my shame, I don’t want to be alone looking like I’m going to the prom.”

“We’ll just drink and dance and forget how we look. Graham will dance with us both.”

“Good. Now I can try to have a good time without worrying I’m encouraging some guy’s fantasy of screwing a bridesmaid.”

“How in the hell did that start anyway? Do you know that many women who hooked up with someone they just met at a wedding?”

I look at her like she’s suddenly lost her mind. I hold my stare for a few seconds, until we both bust out laughing.

“I mean, other than you or I?” I remind her.

“We were a lot younger,” she adds with a shoulder shrug.

“Yeah, that’s it. Had no connection to the copious amounts of alcohol we were drinking in our twenties.”

“That guy was fun until he took his pants off. He had an unfortunate-sized penis.”

“I don’t remember you telling me that. Poor guy. Too small. Gherkin material?”

“No! Too big! He was hung like a donkey.”

I’m laughing so hard I have to lean against the wall. “Stop! I’m going to pee my pants!”

This gets Soraya going. She puts her hands out, showing me an approximate size of her studly drive by.