One Week With The Best Man. Andrea Laurence
day spa they contracted with for bridal sessions, and they were happy to fit in Gretchen for a full day of beauty.
She was expecting a hair trim and some nail polish. Maybe a facial. Gretchen wasn’t a movie star, but she didn’t think she needed that much work.
Instead, she’d had nearly every hair on her body ripped out. The hair that was left was cut, highlighted and blown into a bouncy but straight bob. Her skin was buffed and polished, her clogged pores “extracted,” and then she was wrapped like a mummy to remove toxins, reduce cellulite and squeeze out some water weight. They finished her off with a coat of spray tan to chase away the pastiness. She got a pedicure and solar nails in a classic pink-and-white French manicure that she couldn’t chip. They even bleached her teeth.
Thankfully Gretchen didn’t have much of an ego, or it would’ve been decimated. It had taken about seven hours so far, but she thought she might—might—be done. She was wrapped in a fluffy robe in the serenity room. Every time someone came through, they took her into another room and exposed her to another treatment, but she couldn’t come up with anything else they could possibly do to her.
This time, when the door opened, it was Amelia. If Gretchen’s lady parts weren’t still tender, she’d leap up and beat her friend with an aromatherapy pillow for putting her through all this. Instead, she sipped her cucumber-infused mineral water and glared at her.
“Don’t you look refreshed!” Amelia said.
“Refreshed?” Gretchen just shook her head. “That’s exactly the look I was going for after seven hours of beauty rituals. Julian Cooper’s new woman looks so well rested!”
“Quit it, you look great.”
Gretchen doubted that. There were improvements, but “great” took it a little far. “I should, after all this,” she joked. “If this is what the women in Hollywood go through all the time, I’m glad I live way out here in Nashville.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Amelia said in a chiding tone. “I’ve had every single treatment that you had today. But now is the fun part!”
“Lunch?” Gretchen perked up.
Amelia placed a thoughtful hand on her round belly. “No, shopping. They were supposed to feed you lunch as part of the package.”
“Yeah, they did. Sort of.” The green salad with citrus vinaigrette and berries for dessert hadn’t really made a dent in her appetite.
“If you promise not to give me grief while we’re shopping, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.”
“I want pretzel bites, too,” Gretchen countered. “Take it out of my makeover money.”
Amelia smiled. “Fair enough. Get dressed and we’ll go buy you some clothes and makeup.”
“I have makeup,” Gretchen complained as she got up, realizing as she spoke that she’d already broken her agreement not to give Amelia grief. It just seemed wasteful.
“I’m sure you do, but we’re going to have the lady at the counter come up with a new look for you, then we’ll buy the colors she puts together.”
In the ladies’ locker room, Gretchen changed back into her street clothes, all the while muttering to herself about Italy. It would be worth it, she insisted. Just think of the Sistine Chapel, she told herself.
She continued the mantra as the woman at the department store did her makeup. The mantra got louder as Amelia threw clothes at her over the door of the changing room. Gretchen wasn’t really into fashion. She bought clothes that were comfortable, not too expensive and relatively flattering to her shape, such as it was.
But as she turned and looked at herself in the mirror for the first time today, something changed. She was still the Gretchen she recognized, but she looked like the best possible version of herself. Those hours in the salon had left her polished and refined, the makeup highlighting and flattering her features. And although she wouldn’t admit it readily to Amelia, the clothes looked really nice on her, too.
It was an amazing transformation from how she’d woken up this morning. This department store obviously used fun-house mirrors to make her look thinner.
“I want to see,” Amelia complained. “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.”
Reluctantly, Gretchen came out of the dressing room in one of the more casual looks. She was wearing a pair of extremely tight skinny jeans, a white cotton top and a black leather jacket. It looked good, but the number of digits on the price tags was scaring her. “I only have two thousand dollars, Amelia. I don’t know how much we blew at the spa, but I’m certain I can’t afford a three-hundred-dollar leather jacket.”
Amelia frowned. “I have a charge account here. They send me a million coupons. We’ll have enough money, I promise. You need that jacket.”
“I’m going to a wedding. Isn’t it more important for me to get a nice dress?”
“Yes, but all the formals are marked down from homecoming, so we’ll get one for a good price. You’re also going to the welcome party and the rehearsal dinner. You need something casual, something more formal and a few things in between just in case you get roped into the bridal tea or something. And you’re going to own this stuff long after this week is over, so it’s important to choose good bones for your wardrobe. I like that outfit on you. You’re getting it.”
“It’s too tight,” Gretchen complained, and tugged the top away from her stomach. “I’m too heavy to wear clingy stuff like this.”
Amelia sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, but wearing bulky clothes just makes you look bigger than you are. I wore a 34F bra before I got pregnant, okay? I’ve tried hiding these suckers under baggy sweaters for years, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Well-fitting clothes will actually make you look smaller and showcase your curves.”
Gretchen just turned and went back into the dressing room. There was no arguing with her. Instead, she stripped out of the outfit and tried on another. Before they were done, she’d gone through about a dozen other outfits. In the end, they agreed on a paisley wrap dress, a gray sweaterdress with tights, a bright purple cocktail dress, and a strapless formal that looked as if it had been painted with watercolors on the full silky skirt. Gretchen had to admit the gown was pretty, and appropriate for an artist, but she wasn’t sure if she could pull any of this off. In the end, she needed to look as though she belonged on the arm of Julian Cooper.
She didn’t think there were clothes for any price that would make the two of them make sense. Julian was...the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in person. The movies didn’t even do him justice. His eyes were a brilliant shade of robin’s-egg blue, fringed in thick brown lashes. His messy chestnut-colored hair had copper highlights that caught the lights and shimmered. His jaw was square and stubble-covered, his skin tan, and when she got close, she could smell the warm scent of his cologne. It was intoxicating.
And that wasn’t even touching the subject of his body. His shoulders were a mile wide, narrowing into a thin waist and narrow hips. He’d been wearing an untucked button-down shirt and jeans when they met, but still, little was left to her imagination, they fit so well. The moment he’d opened the door, her ability to perform rational speech was stolen away. She’d felt a surge of desire lick hot at her blushing cheeks. Her knees had softened, making her glad she was wearing sensible flats and not the heels Amelia had nagged her to wear.
When it came down to it, Julian was...a movie star. An honest to God, hard-bodied, big-screen superstar. He was like an alien from another planet. A planet of ridiculously handsome people. And even though she looked pretty good in these expensive clothes with expertly applied makeup, Gretchen was still a chubby wallflower with no business anywhere near a man like him.
Men had always been confusing creatures to Gretchen. Despite years of watching her sisters and friends date, she’d never been very good with the opposite sex. Her lack of confidence was a self-fulfilling