15 | Crisis Averted
1138 Words
Stella
If you've never tried to get six grown women into coordinated dresses, matching shoes, and fake eyelashes on a strict deadline, then congratulations, you’ve never experienced the ninth circle of hell.
Sarah’s bridal suite is a war zone. Panic is screaming from every direction; shoes, dresses, make-up sprawled out over every surface in the room.
There are curling irons plugged into every available outlet. Someone’s crying because their lashes won’t stick. Someone else is hunting for a lost earring like it’s the Hope Diamond. And then there’s me, sitting on the floor with a bottle of club soda and a white cloth, trying to blot out the red wine stain of the century.
“I swear to God, I didn’t even touch the glass,” Mia wails, staring down at her bridesmaid's dress like it betrayed her personally. “It jumped out of my hand.”
I want to roll my eyes because I tried to warn them that wine wasn't a good idea. Especially red wine. But they didn't want to listen. They insisted they could handle it. Clearly not.
“It’s okay,” I lied, pressing the cloth into the deep burgundy mess on the pale pink chiffon. “We’ve got this. Just stop moving the dress.”
Mia sniffs and nods, holding the skirt out like she’s about to undergo surgery.
“Five minutes until photos!” someone yells from the hallway.
Of course.
I blot faster. It’s not working. The stain is massive, right over her hip where it is impossible to hide. We’re out of time, out of tricks, and definitely out of backup dresses.
“Maybe she can stand behind someone in every photo?” Grace offers helpfully.
“Or we Photoshop it,” Lauren adds.
I stand up, wiping my hands on my dress. “I need backup.”
Lauren stares at me like I'm insane. “Who could possibly help right now?”
"I don't know, but I don’t have time to stand around and cry about it. You keep getting ready and leave this with me."
Mia quickly undresses, and I bolt out into the hallway and down the back staircase toward the kitchen. Someone said they had a steamer in the laundry room. Maybe heat can lift the stain? Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but at this point anything is worth a try.
"Siri, I need you now more than ever," I mutter into my phone, begging for the technology gods to come through with a fast solution.
I take a hard left and nearly slam into someone coming around the corner.
Strong hands grab my shoulders before I can fall.
“You okay?”
I know it's him before I look up and see his handsome face, concern written in his gaze. In a suit. Tie slightly loosened. Hair a little messy like he’s been running his hands through it all morning.
“I—yeah. Bridesmaid crisis,” I shrug lifting up the dress to show him.
He raises an eyebrow. “More serious than a groomsman forgetting his pants?”
“Depends. Were his pants stained with merlot ten minutes before the photo call?”
He smiles, small, crooked. It hits me in the chest.
“Need help?”
I hesitate. Say no, I tell myself. Just walk away. But the clock is ticking, and he’s already walking with me.
We head into the laundry room. He finds the steamer before I do.
“Here,” he says, plugging it in. “Bring the dress down?”
I blink. “You want to help steam a bridesmaid dress?”
“I’ve done worse.”
I hesitantly give him the dress. Nick holds it up carefully while I press the steamer over the stained fabric.
“You’re good at this,” I mutter, hating that I just admitted he was good at anything. The last thing he needs is an ego boost.
“I ironed all my shirts in college. You think frat houses come with laundry service?”
I laugh, unfiltered. It slips out before I can catch it.
He looks over at me. “Nice to hear that again.”
I keep steaming. The stain’s not gone, but it’s faded. Enough to pass in photos. Maybe.
The door swings open.
Liam.
He looks between us, eyebrows lifting. “Everything okay in here?”
I straighten, panicking for reasons I can't explain, I'm still holding the steamer and look at it then back at Liam expecting him to understand. “Yeah. Crisis mostly averted.”
He steps inside, eyes lingering on Nick. “Didn’t realize you were on laundry duty.”
Nick shrugs, completely unfazed. “Someone had to fix it.”
“Funny. I thought Stella had that covered.”
I hold up a hand. “Guys. It’s handled. No one needs to measure their egos.”
Liam looks at me. “You didn’t text back last night.”
“Because I was tired.”
Nick glances at me, just barely. I catch the shift in his jaw.
Liam folds his arms. “You didn’t mention you and Nick were... friends?” he says on a question.
“We’re not,” I say, too quickly.
Nick lifts an eyebrow. “Good to know.” he mutters under his breath, and I swear I can hear his jaw clenching.
I sigh, stepping between them. “This is ridiculous. I’m not interested in playing some possessive little game. We’re grown adults trying to steam a dress. Let’s keep it that way.”
Silence.
Liam’s gaze softens. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”
Nick just nods, cool and unreadable.
But then Liam moves closer. “Look, I’m just trying to be there for you. If this guy-” he gestures to Nick “is still part of your story, I’ll back off. But I need to know if I’m wasting my time.”
Nick lets out a low breath. “This isn’t the time or place.”
“I agree,” I snap, whirling on them. “This is Sarah’s day. And you two treating it like a pissing contest? It’s embarrassing.”
Nick’s jaw tightens. Liam looks away.
“I don’t belong to either of you,” I say. “So stop acting like I’m some prize you’re trying to win.”
They both freeze.
I grab the dress, kill the steamer, and brush past them. “Thanks for your help. Both of you. But I’ve got it from here.”
Neither follows me back up the stairs.
Which is just as well because I don’t have the energy to sort out their issues, or mine, right now.
All I care about is getting Mia into that dress and getting Sarah her perfect photos before the ceremony.
The rest? I’ll figure that out later.
- Writer
