Thirteen
The bridal suite is more of the same—Nikki barking orders, a harpy in a white dress. I keep the camera at the ready in case she takes flight and shoots flames from her orifices. Bryony’s voice echoes in my head, telling me to be nicer. “We women have to support each other, Frankie. Don’t be judgmental.”
Of course, Bryony is right. But I’m nervous. And I’m not even really sure Nikki qualifies as woman or human. I feel so sorry for her bridal party. All except Adalynn look like they’re about to: (a) burst into tears; (b) commit murder; (c) both.
Nikki’s dress is stunning, and while I’d pinned her for a sleek mermaid or slim-fitting silhouette to show off the body she clearly works hard for, I was wrong. She’s full-on princess today, sweetheart neckline with ample but tasteful cle
