Page 1 of Sunny Skies Ahead (Watford Sweethearts #2)
Chapter one
Imogen
G rowing up, my father had a theory about hell.
He was fascinated with the notion that hell meant something different to everyone else. For some, it might be standing in a line at an amusement park that never moves, or sitting in a waiting room and never having your name called.
I decided that for me, my personal hell was standing in the doorway of a bridal salon, drowning in a sea of white.
White lace, white pearls, and so, so much tulle. To my eternal horror, there were even white feathers.
I didn’t like to dwell on thoughts of my marriage. I’d worked tirelessly to leave that behind; to distance myself from the memories.
But standing in this bridal salon in Brighton while the nice woman at the front desk ran to find my best friend, Abbie, I wondered what it would have been like to wear a dress like this. To stand in front of God and everyone I loved and swear to love the person beside me until the end of my days .
As a child, I thought marriage meant a happy ending. As a teenager, I thought marriage was my ticket out of a bad situation.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d been foolish and naive, just like everyone warned me.
I turned away from the front desk towards the entrance to the store.
The tall glass windows framing the busy streets of Brighton reflected my brown skin back to me, shoulder-length black curls framing my round face.
I gazed at my reflection for the briefest of moments, toying with a stray curl that never seemed to lay where I wanted it.
“Good afternoon!”
I startled, whirling to face the woman. It was a different woman this time, dressed in the same solid black attire, but with a name-tag that read Diana .
“You’re here with Abbie Collins, right? She’s right this way.”
Diana led me towards the fitting rooms. I kept my arms tucked in firmly to my sides as we slipped through the overfilled racks of fluffy white. The back of the store had four fitting rooms, two on each side, divided by a center hallway that ended with a curved mirror and a pedestal in the middle.
“Thank God you’re here!”
I turned around to face my best friend, painting what I hoped was an excited expression on my face.
“I’m here.”
“I was nervous you were going to bail last minute.”
I gasped in mock outrage.
“This is your final wedding dress fitting we’re talking about here. I would never bail on you. I’ll be the only voice of reason here, if those feathered monstrosities in the showroom prove anything.”
Abbie shook her head, but her eyes shone brightly with affection.
She walked towards the pedestal, fiddling with her hands before smoothing them down the front of her dress.
I recognized it as the reception dress she’d picked out several months prior.
Simple satin draped elegantly over her curves, a long slit cut to her upper thigh from ankle-length, and two thin straps crisscrossed in the back for an added detail.
It was everything her ceremony dress was not, and that’s what made it so special.
“All that aside, a bridal boutique is kind of the worst place for a commitment-phobe to be,” Abbie teased.
I rolled my eyes. I might be commitment-phobic now, but I hadn’t been at eighteen.
Diana appeared behind me as Abbie stepped onto the pedestal, turning around to view the dress from the side. I stepped forward to ensure that all the adjustments had been made, seamlessly transitioning into the role of maid of honor. Diana gave us both a warm smile .
“Can I get either of you some champagne or sparkling water?”
I hesitated for a moment and then shrugged.
“Sparkling water would be great, thank you.”
The stylist disappeared from the fitting room area, leaving Abbie standing alone on the pedestal, twisting to get a look at the back of the dress.
“Everything look okay?”
“Yes,” Abbie said, her voice a bit too bright. I met her eyes in the mirror and waited for her to elaborate. She crossed her arms over her chest before continuing.
“This all feels a bit much. I mean, two dresses?”
“You won’t be able to move at the reception without changing into a simpler dress,” I said, nodding to the open fitting room door and the puffy, overflowing ballgown that was spilling out of its garment bag.
“You’re getting to have your princess moment, and your hot moment. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Abbie pressed her lips together and cocked her head slightly to the side, as if she couldn’t believe she was really standing here.
“Just like you and Connor,” I added quietly, watching as the corner of Abbie’s mouth twitched, the barest hint of the smile that wanted to break free.
I knew nothing about wedding dress shopping.
When my ex-husband and I had gotten married, I was barely out of high school.
He was a newly minted United States Marine who had graduated mere weeks before we strolled into the courthouse.
No, I didn’t even get a nice dress out of the horrible experience that was my marriage.
“Remember when we used to watch Say Yes to the Dress as kids, and the bride would put on that one dress and immediately start crying happy tears?”
I nodded, remembering the many summer afternoons we spent indoors with our dream wedding albums, searching through thousands of wedding dresses and hairstyles and Pinterest flower arrangements to build our binders.
I probably still had mine somewhere. I was surprised Abbie hadn’t mentioned her album yet.
“It just feels surreal,” Abbie murmured as she stepped down from the pedestal, heading for the fitting room where her ceremony dress hung. “Like if I snap my fingers or click my heels together, it will all be gone.”
Her words caught me off guard. Not because I was worried that Abbie was having second thoughts about the marriage, but because her words hit me like a blow to the chest. Because that’s exactly how I’d been feeling since my return to Watford.
I spent most of my days looking over my shoulder, wondering when my past would catch up to me.
“I know what you mean,” I said quietly, following her inside the room. “And you already know what I’m going to say.”
“You’re going to tell me that my tendency to overthink is the real thief of joy,” Abbie looked at me with a wry expression as she waved me over to help with her zipper. I laughed, but obliged without further comment.
Once she was out of the dress, I carefully hung it back on the wooden hanger and zipped up the garment bag before turning my attention to the very, very large dress that took up most of the space in the room.
Abbie unzipped the back and pulled the skirt out. I let out a low whistle.
“Let’s get this party started,” I said, fake rolling my non-existent sleeves up my forearms. Abbie shook her head as I helped her step into the dress.
“Wait, hold on,” I said, grabbing her veil off one of the other hangers. “I need the full effect. ”
I sprinted from the room, shielding my eyes so I didn’t see the full image of Abbie done up completely.
I’d already seen the dress—I’d actually been the one to pick it out, a point which I proudly proclaimed to Connor, Lucas, and Kameron the night we’d returned from dress shopping—but I hadn’t seen her fully done up yet.
I slumped down in one of the velvet armchairs opposite the pedestal and called out, “Ready!”
Tears welled in my eyes within seconds of Abbie walking out of the fitting room.
The dress was just as perfect as I remember it being.
An off-the-shoulder neckline framed the beginning of a lace bodice that flared into a full tulle ballgown right at Abbie’s waist, cascading down her body and accentuating her curves in all the right places.
Intricate floral patterns adorned the top layers of tulle, culminating in a stunning design encircling the hem of the dress.
It was the epitome of fairytale princess, and based on the way Abbie’s eyes sparkled as she stepped onto the pedestal, it was exactly what she wanted.
“It’s perfect,” Abbie whispered, turning around for a full spin. She clasped her hands together in front of her with a girlish joy that made my heart hurt.
“Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” Abbie said, a smile slowly spreading on her face as she wiped away her tears.
“I trust everything is to your liking with the alterations?” Diana asked, and Abbie turned from side to side once more, the full skirt swaying delicately as she did so.
Abbie nodded, and I stood, wrapping her in the biggest hug.
“Are you saying yes to the dress? Again, that is?”
Abbie swatted at my arm, but her grin told me she was happier than she had been in a long, long time.
A short hour later, we were sitting down at a booth in our favorite pizza restaurant in Brighton.
After a closer examination of the dress, Abbie had signed off on all of the alterations.
The deed was sealed with one last swipe of Connor’s credit card and an embossed “refer us” card slipped into Abbie’s purse.
After trying—and failing—to gently lay both gowns in the backseat of my tiny Camry, we were finally sitting down in the pizza parlor.
We ordered a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza to split.
“Looking back, I should have known you’d be the one to find the dress,” Abbie said after taking a sip of her water. I smiled smugly.
“Not to toot my own horn here, but I know you better than you know yourself most days.”
“Can’t deny that,” Abbie said, shooting me a grin. “I’m grateful to have the truest of friends in you.”
“You deserve to be happy, Abbie,” I said earnestly. “I know I had my reservations at the beginning of this, when Connor came back into town, but I really am happy for you. You’ve more than earned this. ”