Smitten Kitten

chapter twenty four

     "VIKA, I DON'T THINK I can do this."

The carefully curated playlist featuring Destiny's Child and Outkast is barely drowning out Cecilia's barking on the phone about something with flowers, and Nat narrowly breaks over them. I heave a sigh, arm already aching from holding a lock of dark hair around the curling iron for over five seconds. "Listen, Nat, I can curl my hair just as good as any beauty school reject and I can do it for less than two hundred dollars. I get it's your wedding, but this is about the principle-"

"That's not-"

"Okay, it doesn't matter if she graduated, I'm using hyperbole. It's for effect. I'm a writer, you can't take away my poetic licence from me. I-"

"Vika, I can't do this."

I snort. "Dude, we tried on the dress yesterday, we already know it fits. I highly doubt 2AM McDonalds works that fast."

Without a snappy retort back, I pause. Shifting to gain a better look at her, I catch Nat's sharp green eyes softening in a way that takes me by surprise. She's chewing on the inside of her cheek and that spiral of panic she's rapidly and haphazardly tumbling into is written all over her face, exposed by the crease in her brow and the deep breath she takes. I blink to make sure my eyes aren't playing tricks on me.

A quick survey of the room and all the other bridesmaids are running around like worker bees with blinders on, too concerned with getting their false lashes and liquid lipstick just right to hear what Nat's saying. They're completely oblivious as she throws me another pleading look a la puppy dog left to starve in the rain.

"I'm going for a smoke," I announce to no one in particular, placing down the curling iron with my hair still half done. "Nat, come keep me company."

Natalya's already bunching up the edges of her dress between her fingers and making her way towards the balcony before I can even finish my sentence. Cecilia seems more concerned with me, though, from the way she freezes in place and wrinkles her nose.

"You're going to smell if you smoke," she says, somehow upping the nasal quality in her voice to new heights.

I wave her off, rolling my eyes. "I'll buy a breath mint, Cici."

The pet name isn't coming from a particularly affectionate place, but she sends a glimpse of camaraderie from across the room that I can only awkwardly return with a sheepish grin before disappearing out the balcony.

Nat's leaning against the railing, picturesque with the mid-July sunlight reflecting off her blonde hair pulled into a loose updo. Despite the mermaid-style ivory dress she's swathed in, her eyes staring off into the distance aren't screaming wedding bells.

"If you're here to announce your true love for me, you're late. I've already taken a vow of celibacy in honour of Remington," I say, grinning, as I slide up next to her.

Her brows knit. "Isn't that your fish?"

"He is my child, Nat. How dare you? Remington is not just a fish."

She opens her mouth as if to make a snappy reply, but instead of words only a troubled sigh falls through. There's an unmistakable sag to her shoulders, and although wedding dresses are basically anvils wrapped up in rhinestones, it's clear it runs deeper than that.

"Hey, seriously, what's up?" I ask, softer than before, gently nudging her with my shoulder.

There's a beat of quiet, the sounds of the city barely touching us from up here. She sniffs, picking at her cuticles, refusing to look me in the eye.

"Am I making the right decision?"

There's a second of processing. "What do you mean? Are you making the right decision in marrying Mark?" I blink, barely believing the words coming out of my mouth.