Sister of the Bride by Lauren Morrill

Author:Lauren Morrill [Morrill, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yellow House Media
Published: 2023-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

I didn’t want this to seem like a date, so I told Toby I’d just meet him at his house. Him picking me up felt too weird. But now that I’m wearing this dress and strutting through Beacon Hill in the strappy heels my sister loaned me, my hair sprayed within an inch of its life, my makeup subtle but smokey (all courtesy of Polly, who took one look at the compact of Clinique powder foundation that’s been sitting on my dresser for going on five years and legitimately looked like she was going to hurl), I kind of wish I’d told Toby I’d meet him at the hotel. I know as soon as we walk into the event, the lights will be low, the music will be loud, and the crowd will be dense, which will make it easy to focus on why we’re there: lobster tails and an open bar. But if we’re crammed into the back of an Uber together, I fear I’m going to lose my nerve and do a tuck and roll out the door somewhere on Boylston Street. Assuming this dress will allow for such moves. After two blocks of walking, I suspect I won’t be going anywhere fast.

My fear only grows tenfold when the door of Toby’s apartment swings open to reveal my best friend, all six foot something of him, clad in the best-fitting black suit I’ve ever seen outside a David Beckham ad. His hair looks freshly cut and is styled in a way I’ve never seen him wear it before. It looks like it’s ready for an Instagram photo from the barber who did it. The sides are smooth, the curls on top mostly pushed back, though they still flop slightly over his left eye. I have to swallow the unfgh that starts to exit my mouth at the sight of him and his brown eyes that seem to smolder—when did Toby learn to smolder?

I catch the exact moment when he registers the sight of me—all of me, especially the parts in the dress, because his eyes go wide as dinner plates and his jaw drops so low I can see the filling in his back molar. Suddenly that smolder is replaced with something else entirely.

“Holy shit, you look amazing,” he says, his eyes roving all over me as a deep red blush blooms on his cheeks. “I mean, well…wow.” He drags his eyes back up to meet mine in an effort not to ogle me like some roadside construction worker.

“It’s Polly’s,” I say, shifting on my borrowed heels. “I don’t usually wear red.”

Toby makes a sort of understated hmmm sound whose meaning I can’t decipher, then pivots quickly on his heel and marches toward the stone steps up to the front door of the main house, beckoning for me to follow.

“Hey, before we go, my mom needs help with a light bulb. Come in?”

I follow him past the stairs, down the hall, and into the kitchen, where Dr. Sullivan is standing at the counter, a slice of pizza in her hand, her laptop open on the counter.

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