Speak Now

III

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I turn sideways to see how good my bum looks. To be fair, I'm wearing Roland Mouret so, of course, my derriere is looking like all the gym hours totally paid off. Ah, who am I trying to kid? I don't go to the gym. I do what all the other Californians do- yoga and surf. 

Running my hands down the front of the little black dress, I frown at my appearance, knowing that I don't look like a knockout, at least, not the knockout I wanted to look like. Tonight was the first time I was seeing Sam Courtenay and I wanted to make him go insane and regret ever finishing with me. I needed to look hotter than the sun. But I don't. I've seen Sam's girlfriend- or ex-girlfriend, as Charlotte had the pleasure of telling me this morning- and in comparison, I'm a potato. Seriously, I'm mashed potato. With limp hair. I really should make an appointment at the salon soon to see if they can do something to fix the sun and sea water damage. 

"You know you're the most beautiful woman in the world, Sheila," James says from the doorway, smiling up at me through the reflection. I groan at the nickname he has for me but I don't say anything- he loves it when I pick an argument over it and just to annoy me, he'll call me Sheila all night. It's easier if I let it slide; it ruins his fun. When he sees me turn my head to get a different angle, he huffs audibly and walks into the room, sitting on the corner of the bed and doing up his cufflinks. "We should have a safe word for tonight."

I apply another coat of mascara, hoping it would make my eyes pop. It works a little. "Yeah, like what?"

"I don't know."

"James, you're about as useful as decaf coffee," I laugh, hoping to raise a smile out of him. He was just as nervous about tonight as I was but thankfully, the corners of his lips quirk upwards. Mission accomplished. "What about aardvark? I mean, when would anyone ever use that in a conversation?"

Agree on that as our safe word, I place the tube of mascara into my clutch bag and grab my phone, just in case. I mean, no one is going to phone me but it's a habit to always be attached to the thing. If I'm lucky, I might get a cold call number and I can use that as an excuse to run out on tonight. As that excuse flashes through my mind, I feel a pang of guilt pass through me; being Keira's maid of honour, I wanted to be there to support her, especially since I feel like I'm the bridesmaid that's done the least. Living thousands of miles away, any support or suggestions I've made has been done via FaceTime or Skype. Now that I'm in the same city as the bride, all I can think of is running away. 

I'm a terrible friend. 

A knock at the door tells me that our car has arrived. With one last look shared between James and me, we know there's no turning back. We fist bump each other before walking out the door and climb into the car for the most nervewracking drive ever. While I fidgeted with my earrings, James kept bouncing his knee which drove me crazy. Eventually, I had to force his knee still by placing my hand on it. That's when he grabbed my hand and held it tightly. No matter how much I was not looking forward to this dinner, James was feeling it more than me.