Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) (27 page)

I can’t hear Natalie’s response but once again, the older lady is not so quiet. “Well, yes. I suppose I could, but that’s hours of work. When does she need it?”

They both appear in the doorway. “Mrs. Cooper.”

“Please, call me Piper.”

“Piper, this is Sharon. She’s the head seamstress here. We have a proposition for you.”

I listen earnestly to Sharon describe what she can’t do with the dress to get to what she’s going to do with it. If I understand correctly, she’s essentially going to take it apart and redesign it to fit my current figure. She will use the other girls’ dresses as a guide to create a unique design for me. It’ll be close enough to the one Cam ordered. She will not likely know the difference.

I don’t bother asking what the cost is because it doesn’t matter. I will pay whatever I have to in order to keep from ruining Cam’s dream wedding. Buzzing around me like a bee, she pokes, pins, prods, and measures until I think my arms are going to fall off from holding them up so long.

I set up an appointment to return in two days when the dress should be done. That will give us one day to make any minor adjustments before it will have to be steamed for the wedding. Thanking them profusely, Sharon says, “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. I haven’t successfully pulled this rabbit out of my hat.”

* * *

T
he dress is better
than anything I could’ve ever dreamed and so much prettier than the original. I haven’t bothered mentioning it to Cam and doubt she’ll notice when the time comes. I figure it’s best not to acknowledge it, stressing her out even more than I assume she already is.

She took yesterday and today off work and all of next week for their honeymoon, but I’ll see her, and everyone else, tonight at the rehearsal dinner. I’m dreading the entire thing, which pains me. I’ve been looking forward to Cam’s wedding for years, even though we didn’t have a groom. Not just hers but all the Fish. I’ve wanted to watch my friends take the next step, open the next chapter in their lives, each of them.

Somehow, the last year seems to have taken all that joy away, sucked it right out from under me. Not only is the joy no longer there but it’s been replaced with apprehension and fear. My friends haven’t talked to me since I left Moby, even though they all agreed it was what I needed to do. I haven’t heard one peep from him since I walked out of the hospital. No one’s speaking to me at work. My life is a crumbling shell of what it used to be, and I’m clueless as to how to put it back together. Tonight, all of that will be brought to the forefront.

I realize it’s not my night, it’s Dax and Cam’s, but Moby will be there. He
has
to be there. It’s his brother. I’m sure all the Coopers will be in attendance along with the Wrights, who I haven’t seen, and my Fish. The stress of being near him, wondering how we’ll ever find our way back together, I just don’t see how it can happen. When I had their support, it all seemed possible. Now, I just feel isolated and alone.

Arriving at the church just before I’m supposed to, I stroll in hoping to go unnoticed. It’s unlikely since I’m
in
the wedding, but I hope to remain as much of a wallflower as possible. The girls are huddled together just inside the doors, beyond them the guys are clustered around the center aisle, with random people scattered in the pews.

Before anyone has time for greetings, some woman I assume is the wedding coordinator, starts barking out orders, lines us up, and shows us how to carry a bouquet. She leaves us in a quiet line; the others begin to carry on the moment she’s out of earshot. The portly woman heads toward the front of the church, she orders the guys, and shows them how to file in first. Once in line, she hollers up the aisle to go when her hand gives the signal, one at a time.

I want to scream at this woman and remind her we’re all in our thirties, well most of us anyway, and this is not the first wedding we’ve ever attended, but I keep my mouth shut. My anxiety is getting the better of me.

Wait. Where’s Moby? I scan the front of the church but he’s nowhere to be found, no hole left open for him. He’s not in the pews; I’ve checked every head in there. Panic sets in. Something happened, and no one bothered to let me know. I’ve been so consumed with giving Moby his space I haven’t one time asked anyone how he’s doing. Oh, my God. I can’t find my husband.

Heaving, trying to catch my breath, the crazy lady makes it back to us. Putting her hand on my shoulder to still my nerves.

“Child. What is wrong with you?”

I try to take a deep breath. “There’s…there’s a groomsman missing.”

“Oh honey, don’t worry. He’ll be here tomorrow. He had something going on tonight he couldn’t get out of.” She dismisses my concern as quickly as it left my mouth.

Knowing he’s okay settles me enough to get through the rest of the evening but not enough to keep me from wondering what was more important than his oldest brother’s wedding rehearsal. We go through the motions two more times before the coordinator dismisses us to a swanky restaurant for dinner.

Obliged to go, I do, pushing food around on my plate, not bothering to eat much of what’s been put in front of me. I don’t bother with the wine knowing it will hit me hard because I’ve eaten so little. Cam opted not to have a bachelorette party. I think part of her still fears what took place that night we left the bar downtown, but she’ll never admit it. So there’s nothing going on after dinner.

I excuse myself as soon as humanly possible without seeming rude, although at this point I’m not sure it matters. I didn’t speak to anyone all evening other than to answer something asked of me and say goodbye. Moby’s Dad waved at me from a distance, but it seemed everyone intentionally kept away. It’s becoming painfully clear that once I get through this weekend, I need to consider where I’m going from here. I suppose I need to file for legal separation and consider looking for another job. I can’t continue to torture myself day in and day out, an outcast in my own life.

Sleep comes easily when I reach my bed. Unsure of the difference between depression and exhaustion anymore, I just welcome the reprieve from reality.

* * *

W
aking
to the sun shining through the windows, the haze-filled rays warm my skin, the illusion of a beautiful day beaming in. I lie in bed, having stared out into the same creation day after day, I force myself to get up and brave the world.

Showering, shaving, and donning the most comfortable clothes I believe I can get away with in the spa we’re scheduled to meet Cam at, I put on a fake smile, grab my dress, and get in the car. Mentally trying to prepare myself to pretend I’m enjoying my time with my friends, I blast the radio, singing along to the hottest music I can find, but it does little to lighten my mood. The ride is over too quickly, and before I know it, I’m staring at the entrance, my Fish staring back at me. They’re waiting for me to get out of the car to go in together.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Repeat.

Grabbing the handle, I swing the car door open, plastering my face with a smile that swears I’m happy to be here.

They greet me warmly. My girls seem to be back to themselves, talking up a storm, asking me how I’ve been, what I’ve been doing with myself, why they haven’t heard from me. The barrage of questions seems poorly timed, so I blow it off with vague answers about being busy trying to catch up at work. Seemingly pacified, I don’t ask about Moby or mention his whereabouts. Happily unaware, we dive into hours of beauty treatments.

“Piper, you realize it’s like eighty degrees outside, right? Why are you bundled up like Nanook of the North?” Sutton asks out of the blue.

“Just cold I guess.” I shrug off the question to avoid the truth—I can’t seem to keep any weight on and I’m always cold. My feet are in a perpetually frozen state, my hands like little icicles. I bundle up to keep from freezing to death.

“Are you sick?” Cam asks.

“No. I’m fine. Really.”

Redirecting her attention to the stylist, Cam tells her how she wants each girl’s hair done; it’s the one thing she wants to be uniform. Swept back at the base of the neck in a loose bun with soft tendrils framing our face. She produces fresh flowers matching our dresses and her bouquet to adorn the up-do.

We alternate getting our nails done, manicures and pedicures with French tips, our makeup, and hair. There are four girls working on the five us, with two doing hair and makeup and the others on nail duty. They work like well-oiled machines and somehow, even with one extra person on our team, none of us ever appears to be left out or waiting on something else.

At 4:30, they put the finishing touches on Cam before we’re picked up by the limo. Everyone but me arrived here together, so I follow behind them in my car, still feeling the odd man out. I didn’t get the invite for the limo ride but refuse to let my feelings get hurt or pout about it. It’s two minutes down the street, and I’ll want my getaway car when this is all said and done.

* * *

H
elping
grab all the bride’s accouterments, we traipse inside, bogged down with more crap than any one person should have. Her hair and makeup are already done, I can’t imagine what the hell is in her arsenal, but leave it to Cam to be prepared for any situation.

“How do you want to do this, Cam?” Rachel asks after hanging the bags around the room.

“My mom’s bringing in the flowers just before we walk, so really all we need to do is get dressed, right?”

I’m just along for the ride. I’ll do whatever I’m told.

“So you guys go ahead and change. I’ll do what I can on my own but once I put the gown on you’ll have to button it and lace it up.”

None of us, to my knowledge, have even seen Cam’s dress. She’s kept it a highly guarded secret, so unless it’s made a debut in the last couple weeks, we’re all in for a treat.

Each of us busies ourselves with lingerie, pantyhose, dresses, and high heels. Every head in the room turns to the door when a knock comes.

Sutton gasps when her stare lands on me, her hand flies to her mouth in an effort to cover her shock.

I just look at her, trying desperately not to chew on my bottom lip. I see the way they’re all gawking at me; tears line Cam’s eyes, Rachel’s mouth agape, and Charlie’s simply stunned.

The rapping from the hall continues. Ignoring my friends, I traipse to the door, cracking it so no one can see any of the girls who aren’t completely dressed.

Standing before me in the most dapper tuxedo I’ve ever seen is my husband’s little brother. Brooks hands me a box without saying anything and turns around disappearing from my view.

Assuming the gift is for Cam, I hand her the beautiful silver package with a soft pink ribbon wound around it.

Pushing it back toward me, she says, “That’s not for me.” I look down to see a little tag. My name is inscribed in beautiful calligraphy on the backside. Cam’s delicate fingers take hold of my forearm so I can’t slip away. “But before you open it,
what
is going on?”

I shrug my thin shoulders, unsure if they’re talking about my weight or the dress, or any other aspect of my life at this point. “What do you mean?”