Soon- to- be- Mrs
610 Words
Heather's pov
“Thank you, come again, and enjoy your wedding reception!” Fiona, my shopping assistant, called out as Sally and I exited the shop.
“Thanks so much for everything, Fiona. See you next time!” I said, pausing when I realized what I’d just said.
Then we all burst out laughing. “What do you mean by ‘next time’? Honey, you’re getting married this weekend! Why would you want to visit a wedding gown shop again?” Fiona said between her laughter.
“Yes, she’s right. You’re losing the right to visit this shop again for the rest of your life, hon. ‘Till death do you part,’ that’s the vow,” Sally teased, and I smacked her arm playfully.
“I meant I’ll be visiting when she gets married,” I said, pointing at Sally. She gave me a serious side-eye before turning to Fiona at the door.
“Thanks, Fiona, but my best friend is being delusional. Marriage and I are like two peas in a pod—one green, the other black. It’s not happening,” she said, waving at Fiona.
Fiona laughed and waved back. “Goodbye, Sally, and soon-to-be Mrs.”
“Bye, Fiona,” I waved as she entered the shop again, when she was called inside.
I ran to catch up to Fiona.
“Yo!” I said, bumping my shoulder into hers. We were both bundled up in thick coats, scarves, and earmuffs, a sharp contrast to the summer-like wedding dress I was wearing under my coat. I know, but I wasn’t compromising. I’d always wanted a dress like this, even if it meant braving the cold. When we picked the winter season for our wedding, I asked for a warm dress that would still give off that airy, summery vibe.
“What?” Sally asked, pushing me back playfully.
“Are you still mad?” I asked her. Honestly, I’d done her dirty. Not just her—I'd done all my friends dirty. After announcing my wedding, I’d told them we were having a quiet reception with just family. Apparently, Jonathan's family could fill two trucks and still have room for more, and they all wanted to attend. Our wedding venue was beautiful, but small, and we had to make tough choices. In the end, we decided to have a small gathering and spend the Friday before the wedding with our friends at the bridal shower and bachelor party.
“No,” she said, though her tone told me otherwise.
“Nope, one syllable—you’re still mad,” I teased. “Don’t be mad, Sal. I promise I’ll make it up to you after the honeymoon!”
I flashed my cheesiest smile, eyes closed in mock sincerity.
“I’m not mad,” she insisted, getting into the car and opening the door.
I slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. “We’ll have our own honeymoon! We can call it the ‘Making It Up to My BFFmoon!’” I said, extending my arms dramatically.
Sally paused. “With the flowers on the bed in a heart shape and free massages at a spa?” she asked seriously.
“Yes, that and your favorite chocolate. I’ll fly it in just for you,” I said dramatically, hand on my heart.
She scoffed and started the engine. “Deal. You better fly it in.”
I nodded, but my heart sank a little. Was this truly the price of having a best friend? Suddenly, Sally burst out laughing.
“BFFmoon? Heather, you’re still so bad with word combos. I almost thought you said ‘buffoon.’”
- Writer
