An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) (18 page)

“Mom, I’m not sure that’s exactly the shade I had in mind,” I said, once Ally had stomped back to the dressing room to change.

“Don’t be silly, dear,” my mother said, waving her hand dismissively in my direction. “You love pink.”

“I do like pink,” I said, trying to keep my temper in check. “But this shade is so light and…girly. It seems a little immature to me.”

My mother gave me a sharp glance. “Pastels are completely appropriate for a wedding.”

I sighed. “I know that, Mother. But there are nicer shades of pink.” I looked over at the rack the consultant had brought out for us. Hues of watermelon, coral, even fuchsia caught my eye. Would it kill her to put the girls in something even slightly interesting?

“Ashley, if you would have picked a color last week, like you were asked to do, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

I felt my neck flush. She had a point. It was my own fault for not making a decision when I had the chance.

“She’s telling you now, Mom.”

I looked up, surprised to see Allison had come back out of her dressing room and was watching us. I had thought we were alone.

“Yes, but, Allison, this is a decision that should have been made—”

“What difference does it make? She’s telling you right now that she doesn’t like…this.” Allison looked down in disgust at the frothy pink skirt she was wearing.

My mother’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond. The consultant was now hovering near Allison, clearly trying to decide whom she should be aligning herself with. Allison turned to me and held out her hand.

“Why don’t
you
pick some dresses,” she said. I paused for a moment, feeling, for some inexplicable reason, a prickle of fear. It would be easier, surely, to just go along with my mom’s choice. Like she said, I did like pink. And the color did look appropriate for a wedding. What was more bridal than pastels?

But then I met Allison’s eyes. There was something in her gaze, something in her expression that made me feel brave.

“Come on, Ash,” she urged, still holding out her hand. “It won’t hurt to look.”

“You’re right,” I heard myself say. “Let’s try something different.”

I could feel my mother’s irritation radiating from her position on the couch for the rest of the appointment, but I tried not to let it get to me. I found that once I took a more active role, it was actually a lot of fun to shop for dresses for the girls. And what could my mother do, once I had started to speak out? The combined force of myself, Allison, Emily, and Ryan was too great for her to overcome with pointed glances and disapproving, raised eyebrows, things that surely would have broken me down in no time had it been just the two of us. She would have had to resort to actual arguing if she wanted to get her way. She might have broken her cardinal rule about fighting in public had it just been my sisters and me. But against Ryan’s and Emily’s enthusiasm—even the consultant loved my choices—she was trapped.

By the end of the appointment, we had picked four different styles, one for each of the girls, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. They were all cut just above the knee, which was in itself a victory, as I’m sure my mom wanted them in long dresses. “It’s a formal wedding,” she said. Was I imagining it, or was she struggling to keep her voice under control. I felt a stab of unease at her obvious anger, but Ryan saved the day once again.

“This dupioni silk has a very formal feel,” he assured her. “And you can’t find a more stylish cut or better quality materials than a Watters dress. They really are top of the line as far as bridal design goes, Amber.”

I smiled to myself, knowing she couldn’t argue with Ryan’s expertise when it came to fashion.

“Do you really like that color, Ryan?” she asked, her voice almost pleading.

I had decided on something the consultant called Amber Rose. It was a deep shade of peachy-pink, almost coral but darker. I loved how rich it was, particularly the way that richness contrasted with the almost distressed texture of the silk.

Ryan ignored her tone. “I do, I really do. I think it looks classy and mature. Very appropriate for the event.”

I could have kissed him.

As we filled out the forms to place our order, Allison caught my eye. “Well done,” she mouthed, smiling.

I just grinned back. I wasn’t sure why exactly, but I felt better about the wedding than I had in weeks.

Chapter Seventeen

“You can do this, Ashley. I want you to visualize, concentrate, and then explode from your thigh muscles. Ready to try?”

I stared at the box in front of me, before looking back at Tate. “Are you crazy?”

He grinned. “Nope. I have faith. Just give it a try.”

I returned my attention to the box, frowning. I knew it was only twenty inches from the ground, but it looked impossibly high. “Can I see you do it again?” I asked.

“Sure.” Tate squeezed past me, and I couldn’t help but notice he moved much closer than strictly necessary. I mean, there was plenty of room between the box and me for him to get past without him needing to touch my arms quite so much. Or for so long.

“Okay,” he said, releasing my arm and getting into position. “Watch my form. See how I’m in a nice deep squat here? That will help me to power from my legs. Feet are shoulder width apart. My core is engaged. I concentrate and then…”

He jumped quickly, his motion fluid, to land on the top of the box in a perfectly poised squat. “Easy.” He grinned down at me.

“Yeah, you’ve only got like, six inches on me,” I muttered.

He laughed as he jumped down from his perch, landing easily next to me. “Just try.”

I moved into a squat pose the way he had shown me, and he came behind me, correcting my form. I felt his hands linger, once again, on my shoulders. Already warm from a grueling class, I felt my cheeks flush even more, but ordered myself not to think about it.
Some people are just more touchy-feely
, I thought. And I was about to be getting pretty touchy-feely with the floor in front of me if I didn’t concentrate on my jump.

I took a deep breath, visualizing, as Tate had said. I could see myself jump, landing comfortably on the box. Easy.

“Think about the power in your legs,” he said, his voice soft.

I took another breath and leapt, watching, as if in slow motion, as the box came closer…closer…

I fell. The momentum from the jump pushed my knees into the edge of the box. “Ow!” I cried, sprawling on my ass on the gym floor. “That really hurt!”

Ryan was by my side in no time. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I missed,” I muttered, pulling myself into a sitting position.

“You did great though,” Tate said eagerly, crouching next to me and pulling up the hem of my yoga pants so he could inspect my knees. “You were really close.”

“Yeah. Close.” I looked down and saw blood trickling from a scrape on my right knee. Ryan gasped. “Great.”

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Tate said. “We’ll get you up and walking in a minute to see how it feels.”

“It feels like I just fell into the sharp edge of a box,” I said. Tate laughed.

“You have a good attitude, Ash. Laugh it off. I’m gonna go get you some towels and ice.”

After he’d gone, Ryan turned to me. “Ash? He’s calling you Ash now?”

I shrugged. “All my friends call me Ash.”

“And you’re counting the hot trainer as a friend now? Does your fiancé know about this?”

“Give me a break, Ryan,” I said. “Do you honestly think a guy like that would have any interest in me?”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding outraged. “You’re a catch!”

I laughed and wrapped a sweaty arm around him. “Oh, Ryan. You sure know how to make a girl feel good.”

“Yeah, just don’t be thinking that Tate could do the same,” he said. I was saved having to reply by the trainer’s return.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he said, brandishing gauze and ice packs in my direction.

After my knees were properly bandaged, Tate had me walk around the gym a bit to make sure nothing was injured. “Just a surface wound,” he said approvingly when I reported back that it felt fine. “We’ll go easy on you for the rest of the night. Why don’t you hit the free weights? Work on the upper-body rotation.”

Ryan went with me, claiming he’d had enough of the Krav Maga stuff he’d been working on over on the other side of the gym. I had a feeling he was just hoping to prevent Tate from coming over to give me one-on-one instruction. It was cute for him to be concerned—as if I would ever do anything to jeopardize what I had with Chris.

Tate had set up a series of picture cards around the free weights so his clients could go through the routine on their own. It was one of my favorite rotations at the gym—just the weights and me. Ryan and I had been going to the gym for months now and had actually signed up for a second session of the boot camp when our class was done, but I was still constantly surprised at how much I enjoyed pushing myself. I had always been too clumsy and awkward to enjoy sports growing up, and it was very liberating to find there were so many things I could do here at the gym. Even if a box jump wasn’t one of them.

“So, how’s your mom reacting to our little takeover of the bridesmaid dress selection?” Ryan asked.

I made a face at him as I picked up my weights and started on my bicep curls. “Don’t even ask.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say we have now entered deep-freeze mode.” My mom was clearly upset with me. Every time we had talked lately, she’d been cold and distant. It was silly; I’d been pretty cold and distant toward her for months now, but for some reason her reciprocation made me feel almost panicky.

Ryan shook his head. “You’re a saint, Ash.”

I was using a heavier weight than usual and had to concentrate on pushing through for a second before responding. “What do you mean?”

“Putting up with that stuff for all these years. Being Amber’s daughter. I don’t think I could have done it.”

I was so surprised that I actually dropped my weight. “What?”

He looked confused at my reaction. “I think it’d be tough to be the daughter of Amber Phillips, that’s all.”

“I thought you adored my mom!”

“I do. I mean, she’s gorgeous and stylish and makes amazing baked goods. And the lady knows how to decorate. But she definitely pays a price for all that perfection. And so do you.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. My entire life, I had thought my friends idolized my mother as much as I had. Hadn’t I been told a thousand times how lucky I was? How everyone wished they had a mom like her?

“Sweetie.” Ryan shook his head, looking vaguely sad. “I can be impressed by her fashion choices and her constant manicures and blow-outs because she’s not my mom, you know? If she was, if I had to live under that kind of pressure, I don’t think I’d find it nearly so impressive.”

“You think she puts pressure on me?” I asked quietly.

Ryan just looked at me. “Of course she does, Ashley,” he finally said.

I picked up my weights again, lost in thought.

“Were you, ah, not aware of the pressure?” he asked uncertainly.

I shook my head. “I was. Of course I was. I just didn’t realize it was that obvious to everyone else.”

“I do know you pretty well,” he said. Ryan was quiet for a few moments as we went through our exercises. “I’ve been wondering, actually,” he said eventually, “if that’s why you’re so checked out on the wedding.”

“I am not checked out about the wedding,” I said, immediately irritated. “You sound like Allison.”

“So Allison noticed, too,” he said, nodding. “Smart girl.”

“There’s nothing to notice!” I cried. “Jeez. I am totally and completely excited to marry Chris, okay?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re excited to marry Chris.” Ryan had this way of completely ignoring me when I was upset if he thought I needed to hear something. No matter how high pitched my voice got, he would just go on talking, a serene look on his face. It drove me crazy.

He had that look on his face now as he picked up a heavier set of dumbbells to start his triceps exercises. “I know you want to
be
married to Chris. I just don’t think you’re in any way looking forward to
getting
married… you know, the wedding part.”

“You’re crazy,” I muttered, though color was coming to my face. Why did I have to blush every time I got uncomfortable? Ryan was watching me, a satisfied expression on his face.

“I just think it would be hard,” he said softly. “To be so angry at her and so scared of disappointing her at the same time.”

For the second time, I felt completely shocked by his words.

He’s right
, I thought, wanting to cry.
He’s completely and totally right
.

“It’s probably easier to just let her plan everything, huh?” he asked, in that same soft voice. I could barely hear him over the noise in the gym, but he had me captivated, hanging on every word. How had he figured this all out, when I hadn’t been able to put it into words, even in my own head?

“That way,” he continued, “you can’t mess it up. And you can keep your distance, so you can stay mad at her in peace.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess it is.”

Ryan sighed. “I just don’t want you to regret it, Ash. This is your wedding. It always meant so much to you. I would hate for you to look back on it later and feel disappointed in how it went down.”

“How will I feel anything else?” I asked, feeling a sudden panic envelop me. “No matter what happens, when I look back, this will always be the time when my parents split up. That’s what I’ll remember about my wedding.”

Before he could respond, I saw Tate approaching. “You guys seem to be talking more than working out,” he called.

I looked at Ryan, scared. There was no way I could talk to Tate, not right now. I was sure I would burst into tears at any moment. Without a word, Ryan understood. “Her knee’s bugging her,” he called out. “I’m gonna take her home.”

“You sure?” Tate asked, still approaching. “We could always ice it here for a while…”

“No,” Ryan said, taking my arm. He turned me away from Tate toward the locker rooms. “She just wants to go.”