Honeymoon Phase By Amy Daws Read Free Chapter 20

Addison

“Her wedding date is when?” The bridal attendant gapes at Jo, who tells the woman our December date for the second time.

“We can’t get in dresses in less than six weeks.”

“Then we’ll just have to buy something off the rack,” Jo responds cheerily. Definitely not ready to call this powerhouse “Mom,” but “Jo” suits her nicely to me.

The attendant eyes me up and down. “We may not have her size.”

“Ahem,” Cozy barks loudly, stepping up to the tiny bridal attendant and eyeing her with the fire of a thousand suns. “Why don’t you and I go for a little walk?”

The attendant looks confused as Cozy escorts her away from us, and Dakota and Trista exchange a knowing look before clinking their complimentary champagne flutes together.

“This is fun,” Dakota says with a smile, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot excitedly.

“I haven’t even tried anything on yet,” I state, feeling like a total fish out of water.

She shrugs. “It’s already fun.”

I frown at that because it seems so easy and natural for these ladies to be pampered in this plush bridal store. I never even went to my high school prom. I just went to the parties afterward. The awkwardness of asking my dad for money for a dress that he’d have to see me in . . . I shuddered at the thought.

As an adult, I’ve learned how to shop, but I get almost everything online just to avoid the uncomfortable dressing room moments.

Like this moment right here.

Who knows what Cozy is talking to that woman about right now. I take a deep breath in and lower myself onto the open furry white armchair next to Trista. The only way I’m going to survive this is by leaning on the women around me, even if it kills me to do so. “Trista, where did you buy your wedding dress? You looked so beautiful in Mexico.”

“Oh, they definitely had to order my size in.” She giggles and takes a sip. “These types of places don’t carry sample sizes that would fit me.”

“Should I be worried?” I ask, biting my lip. “My proportions are odd. I’m all hips and flat chested and my shoulders are super broad. I should have been a linebacker, I swear.”

“Those shoulders are going to look beautiful in whatever you pick out.” Jo sits down on the armrest of my chair, hitting me with her wide, hopeful eyes. “Luke says you want an outdoor service?”

“Yeah, is that crazy?” I ask, glancing at Dakota and Trista and then back to Johanna. “I don’t want to be difficult.”

“Not at all,” Jo peals back. “It’s your special day. You should get exactly what you want. I am already looking at these gorgeous outdoor tents with heaters for a small reception.”

“I heard Wyatt talking to Luke this morning about using our house as backup if there’s a storm,” Trista says, turning my attention to her. “We’re totally good with it. I’ll put my breast pump parts away and everything.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” I reply gratefully, amazed at how this is all coming together. Some snow has already fallen the past week up on the peak, dusting everything in a sparkly white blanket. It’s not enough to completely cover the ground, but by the wedding, I expect it will be a white wonderland.

“Fletcher Mountain in December is beautiful,” Trista says as if reading my thoughts. “It’s like existing on a cloud. Last year was the best Christmas of my whole life up there.”

“You were also drunk on newborn baby and a brand-new rock on your finger.” Dakota laughs knowingly.

“That is true.” Trista shoots me a sheepish smile and then glances at my hand. “I see you have some new hardware as well.”

I blush as I hold the ring up to my chest, not wanting any more attention on me, but it’s pointless because all the ladies squeal and grab my hand for a closer look.

“So unique,” Dakota says with a sigh. “Great work, Luke.”

I frown as I look down at it. “Yeah, he’s good like that, isn’t he?”

“All this planning is making me wish I would have done our wedding on the mountain too. But Wyatt wasn’t in such a damn hurry.”

“I’m glad you guys got married in Mexico,” Dakota says, raising her hand. “Or who knows if Calder and I ever would have happened.”

“You two would have happened,” Johanna adds with a secretive smile. “He’s been waiting a long time for you.”

Dakota’s smile falls as Jo hits her with that stunning remark. “Why do you say that?”

“A mother knows these things.” She taps her nose at her future daughter-in-law because the writing seems to be on the wall for Dakota and Calder. I haven’t been around them a lot as a couple, but the few times I’ve seen them this past week on the mountain, they seem ridiculously happy . . . even when they’re bickering.

This whole conversation makes me understand even more why Luke was up for helping me with this marriage situation. The epic love stories he’s surrounded by with his family are a lot to live up to.

“Oh, Addison,” Jo says, clapping her hands excitedly. “I’m almost done with the invitations already. Do you want to see them or just be surprised? Luke told me you love surprises.”

“I do love surprises.” I smile softly at the fact that Luke is out there in the streets trying to protect me from all this wedding stuff. He really is such a good friend.

“Very well, then. I shall keep it all to myself for now. Along with all my reception ideas. Oh, this is going to be so hard, but fun!” Jo squeals and walks away to thumb through her binder, clearly deep in planning mode.

“That woman loves a project,” Trista says, pointing to her mother-in-law. “Just wait until you give her a grandbaby and you’ll really see everything she can do.”

The mention of having a child causes a pit to form in my stomach because . . . I never intend to have a baby. I’ll never be a mom, or even have a husband . . . not in the real sense anyways. Guilt niggles with that thought because Jo will want Luke to have a baby. To give her more grandchildren. All these women probably want nieces and nephews. And nothing close to that will ever happen between me and Luke.

I’m a total fraud.

Allowing them to plan my wedding, gush over my ring, help with my dress fitting. What am I doing here? This is so wrong of me, isn’t it?

Then again, Luke and I are legally married. Does the fact that I’m not sleeping with him make our marriage less real? And kids aren’t a necessity for all committed couples. There are all sorts of marriages out there, right? By all accounts, things between me and Luke are going well. Maybe there’s an argument that could be made for friends getting married and leaving the romance out of it. We’re certainly making it work so far. And if that’s what I have to tell myself to stop feeling guilty for bringing everyone here today, then so be it.

“Here we are!” Cozy announces her return, appearing before us with a new bridal attendant whose hands are full of dresses as she hangs them up on the nearby rod.

“Which one is the lucky bride?” the new gal asks, already displaying a better attitude than the last one.

I stand and raise my hand while taking a sip of my champagne. The woman crosses her arms and elbows Cozy. “I see exactly what you mean.”

“Right?” Cozy confirms. “You could bounce a rhinestone off that ass.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, turning around to look at my butt in the nearby mirror.

“Definitely fitted,” the attendant confirms. “If that’s what she wants. I pulled lots of options. And some incredible faux fur shrugs.”

“She’s going to look so hot,” Dakota confirms.

“Like Snow White on the mountain with that raven hair,” Trista adds, pointing at me.

“Did you pull something to showcase her lovely shoulders? The reception will be heated,” Johanna asks, walking over to touch my arms and gaze at my reflection in the mirror.

“Can you take off your sweater, Addison?” Cozy asks, tilting her head to look at me. “We’re trying to objectify you.”

Trista and Dakota sputter out laughing and Johanna cuts them a look. “No more free champagne for those two.”

Their faces fall and I take a moment to admire the women in front of me. All uniquely shaped and confident in their own skin, which only makes me feel more self-assured in mine. Perhaps this is what I missed out on my whole life not having girlfriends, a hype squad.

And as I look at Johanna gazing at me in the mirror with contemplative eyes, I wonder if this is what my mom would be like . . . if things were different.

I don’t have long to ponder that painful thought because I’m swept up into a dressing room to try on a mountain of dresses with ladies who make me forget about this wedding being fake, because they’re all so perfectly real.

“She said yes to the dress!” Dakota calls out to Pearl Street Pub in Boulder as we clink our glasses together in unison.

“Quiet down,” I shush her with a giggle while shooting apologetic glances to the other patrons at the bar.

“Sorry.” Dakota laughs as she reaches up to tie her blond hair into a ponytail. “I just thought they should know.”

“The strangers in the bar that we’ve never met do not care about my wedding dress status.” I eye her skeptically.

“You never know.” Dakota tuts before taking a sip of her Moscow mule.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Cozy says, stumbling over to us as she fists four shots of Fireball she just ordered at the bar. Her short dark hair falls in front of her face and she shakes her head to push it back. “Since we didn’t get to throw you a bachelorette party, an impromptu bar crawl on Pearl Street is the next best thing.”

“Okay, but why do we have to keep having Fireball?” I ask, sniffing the cinnamon whiskey and wrinkling my nose.

“’Cause it’s like a breath mint and it’s delicious!” Cozy answers with a gleeful smile.

Trista holds her shot glass up and yells, “To another woman on Fletcher Mountain!”

“Hear! Hear!” Dakota confirms, lifting her glass to her lips and shooting her shot along with the rest of us.

“You guys are starting to make me feel left out.” Cozy winces and blows out her cinnamon breath all over us. “I’m going to make Max build us a cabin on Fletcher Mountain.”

“Do it!” Dakota slaps her hands on the table. “Max is so rich, it’d be like nothing to him. You guys deserve a mountain getaway house.”

“He does have a house in Aspen though,” Cozy replies regretfully.

Dakota shoots Trista a flat look. “When she says things like that it makes her really unrelatable.”

“Shut up!” Cozy whacks Dakota on the arm and Dakota nearly spills her drink, causing all four of us to erupt in laughter.

I shake my head, sipping my beer at a much slower pace than the rest of these girlies. This is giving Mexico vibes all over again, and these broads couldn’t hold their liquor then either.

But I have to admit, I’m having a blast. After I found a dress that literally took my breath away and didn’t need a spec of alterations on, we all went to dinner together and afterward, the girls convinced Johanna to take us to Pearl Street and we’ve been bar hopping ever since.

Jo stuck with us for the first stop, sipping her demure club soda and enjoying the live band, but then I think she could see where the day was headed and got the hell out of Dodge. The last thing she said to us was to be sure to call one of the boys when we needed a ride back up to Fletcher Mountain.

Johanna paused briefly before she hugged me goodbye, almost as if she was waiting for me to be ready for it. And something in that subtle shift in her embrace made me not recoil like I normally would have. I have to hand it to Luke’s mom . . . the woman can roll with the punches pretty well. I suppose having four boys would make her pretty used to adapting to all types of situations. And these three women around me have only added more color to the Fletcher family madness.

“Can we give her her gift now?” Trista asks, drumming her hands loudly on the table.

“You guys didn’t have to get me a gift.”

“You’re going to love it.” Dakota reaches under the table and pulls out a white bridal bag that I noticed she was carrying around from bar to bar. But I guess I didn’t think to ask her what was inside of it.

“I think Luke is going to love it a bit more,” Cozy adds with a wink.

I look inside the bag and wince when I see a whole lot of lace and straps. I slam the bag closed and shake my head. “You guys.”

“Come on, pull it out!” Trista cheers, shoving the bag at me.

I exhale heavily and pull out the tiny two pieces of lingerie. It’s a white lace embroidered set with lots of room for cleavage and ass.

“For your wedding night.” Cozy smiles and nudges me with her arm.

“Although technically she already had a wedding night,” Dakota corrects.

“You mean you’re not a virgin?” Trista sputters out a laugh, her curly chestnut hair looking bigger and bigger with every bar stop

I just shake my head and quietly tuck the tiny slips of fabric away. Imagining wearing that in front of Luke has my cheeks flushing with heat that I really don’t need these ladies to call me out on.

He’s been texting me all day, checking in to make sure I’m doing okay. I sent him a pic of us and the girls at the last bar and he sent me a couple of beer mugs cheers-ing each other.

Maybe I should send him a pic of this lingerie and see what he has to say to that. That would be too weird, right? He’d think I was a creep. Or a pervert. I know there’s been some type of flirting happening between us lately. Even last night after I trauma dumped my mommy issues on him, we had a moment in the kitchen where I was showing him how to prep my bread and I swear to God, I think he was hard while he was doing it.

I mean . . . I’m not judging him for it. I get horned up when I make bread too. But Luke was definitely not just interested in the bread making last night. Not with the way his chocolate-brown eyes raked over me every time my hands touched his to help him with the dough.

The man has great hands.

Large and warm and rough in all the right places.

“I’ve never worn lingerie for Wyatt,” Trista says with a frown. “Maybe I should try it. Spice things up a bit again now that Stevie is older and sleeping through the night.”

“Oh please.” Dakota rolls her eyes. “You two do not need any help spicing things up. You’re going to be pregnant again soon enough.”

“No I’m not!” Trista points an accusatory finger at Dakota. “Animal rescue facility first. Then we can talk about baby number two.”

“Where are you at with the rescue center, Trista?” Cozy asks, sipping her White Claw.

“Luke is drawing up a proposal for me now.” She smiles brightly. “I can’t believe I’m really doing it. I’m going to build my own rescue center on Fletcher Mountain or as I like to call it . . . Mount Millie.”

Cozy leans over to me and says, “It took the entire family to strong-arm Trista into accepting the plot of land from Wyatt.”

“Oh really? How come?” I ask Trista.

“Because I don’t need to be saved by a man, damn it!” Trista harrumphs and takes a sip of her drink. “But Wyatt is so damn pushy.”

“Calder too,” Dakota confirms.

“Max is unreasonable!” Cozy chimes in.

“They always try to white-knight us.” Trista narrows her eyes as she tosses her drink straw onto the table. “And even if you have valid reasons for going against what they want for you, they just strong-arm you until you give in.”

All three women voice their tones of agreement and then look expectantly at me to join in. I hesitate with how to respond because, honestly, I fully agree with them. Luke white-knighted his way into matrimony with me, being so insistent I marry him and no one else that he learned how to be a lumberjack for me.

That’s outrageous!

And sweet as hell.

If I think about it too much, I get tears in my eyes.

But admittedly, as a husband . . . he kind of rocks. “I wish I could join you ladies and tell you that Luke is a pain in my ass but I’m afraid I can’t. He’s just too amazing.”

“Shut up,” Dakota groans.

“No really, he is,” I reply honestly. “And he’s fun. Like last night when I showed him how to stretch and fold sourdough—”

“Is that what the kids are calling it now?” Dakota sputters out a laugh.

My cheeks flame red. “That is not what I meant. You guys know I make bread.”

“Oh yeah . . . make bread.” Trista begins making lewd hand gestures.

“Did his dough rise to the occasion?” Cozy waggles her eyebrows at me.

“Do you think he tried to pump-her-nickel?” Trista chirps and bursts into a fit of giggles.

“Most definitely,” Dakota confirms. “And I bet he’s so nice he even announces when he’s going to crumb.”

“Guys, be careful,” Cozy interjects, using her firm mom voice. “Too much yeast will ruin it for everyone.”

The three women burst out laughing like cackling hens and I can’t help but join in. We laugh so hard, I have to wipe tears out of my eyes. “Damn, I thought the guys at the yard were disgusting but you fine ladies are putting them to shame.”

“You’re welcome,” Dakota says with a smile.

“But the truth is,” Cozy interjects, hooking her thumb over to me. “Addison has no issues with Luke yet because they’re still in the honeymoon phase.”

“I must admit I’m still there too a little bit,” Dakota says, raising her hand. “Living with Calder is . . .” She shivers at something I do not want to unpack.

“It’ll change,” Trista says with a serious face. “When real-life bullshit bleeds into your happy Fletcher Mountain love bubble . . .” She sighs heavily. “It really puts a damper on things.”

Dakota and Cozy both go quiet, clearly in the know about something going on with Trista that I’m not aware of.

“Everything okay?” I ask, tilting my head and watching the mood shift in Trista, who’s normally so happy and upbeat.

“It’s fine, I just got a call from my parents the other day and it’s really rattled me.”

I frown curiously. “Do you not have a good relationship with them?”

“I haven’t spoken to them in years. Didn’t even know where they lived.”

My throat feels dry as I immediately relate to her circumstances, shocked that we have something so traumatic in common. The timing of this discussion is wild because my heart is still recovering from my emotional confession to Luke last night. Discussing my mom’s final departure from my life was so not on my bingo card this week. Nor his, I’m sure. The poor guy probably just made bread with me because he felt sorry for me.

But once I started opening up, I couldn’t stop. I’ve lived so much of my adult life wondering what would have changed if only my mom had said goodbye. If only she’d given me one final hug, maybe I wouldn’t wince at the touch of other women and live with this uncertainty about what I’d be like as a mother.

To know Trista can relate on any level is shocking. Confessing my past with these women, kind as they may be, will take me some time, but I can’t help the words that tumble out of my mouth next.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, feeling like the beer is giving me a bit of liquid courage. “From everything that I can see, you’re an amazing mom and you and Wyatt are perfect for each other.”

“What’s the question?” Trista eyes me thoughtfully.

“If you had such shitty parents, weren’t you terrified of turning out just like them?”

Trista’s face scrunches up in disgust. “God no. I’d never be like them because I’ll never join a cult for one and—” she huffs out a shaky breath before adding “—I’d kill myself before I let my kid go hungry.”

Silence descends over the table as the weight of that last statement resonates with us. Trista’s eyes well with tears and I feel my own begin to blur as I stare at her. She’s being so open and vulnerable.

God that must feel good.

“I almost turned out like my parents,” Dakota interjects with a pensive look. “But I got out of my shitty marriage and didn’t let it turn me bitter. Then I found Calder and I can just tell it’s right. I’m not ready for marriage or anything, since it feels like I just got divorced. But . . . he’s it for me. I can be myself with him and that’s what I was missing from before.”

Cozy squeezes Dakota’s hand and adds with a soft smile, “I think I brought the best out in Max when we met. He needed someone to tell him it was okay to take a breath and I like being that soft space for him.”

I smile through watery eyes as I look at the three amazing women standing before me, showing me everything they found in life, despite some of their circumstances. While they might have some complaints about the pushiness of their Fletcher men, I can tell deep down, they know they struck gold.

And so have I with Luke.

As a best friend.

“This is deep talk for a dive bar, you guys,” Trista mumbles around a chunk of ice.

Dakota nods aggressively. “Yeah, and this is supposed to be a bachelorette party, not a group therapy session.”

“Let’s go somewhere we can dance,” Cozy begs, her eyes flashing back and forth between all of us.

“It’s like four o’clock in the afternoon,” I laugh and glance at my phone to confirm the time.

Dakota grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. “That’s never stopped us before.”