Wedding Party Collection: Always The Bachelor. Barbara Hannay

      “At this rate we’re going to be here all night!” Dum groaned.

      “I’ll see what the problem is,” Ivy told them. She lifted the skirt of her dress, so it wouldn’t drag on the floor as she crossed the room. She knocked lightly on the door. “Deidre? You okay?”

      The door opened and a disembodied hand shot out. It latched on to Ivy’s arm and yanked her inside. She barely had time to pull her skirt in before Deidre shut and locked the door.

      With her free hand Deidre was holding her partially fastened dress up, clutching the bodice to her breasts. Her face and chest were flushed and beads of sweat dribbled down the sides of her face and into her cleavage. She looked as though she’d just run a marathon.

      “What’s wrong?” Ivy asked. “The natives are getting restless out there.”

      Tears hovered just inside her eyelids. “I’m too fat.”

      Ivy sighed. Not this again. “You are not too fat. You’re going to look beautiful.”

      “No,” she insisted. “I mean I’m really too fat.” She turned, showing Ivy her back, and the gap between the two sides of the dress between the zipper. “I can’t get the dress zipped up.”

      Oh, crap.

      “I pulled and pulled until I heard the fabric start to rip.”

      Yep. Ivy could see a small tear where the lace had begun to pull away from the silk.

      Double crap.

      “What am I going to do?” she half whispered, half shrieked. “I can’t go out there like this. If Blake’s mom finds out it doesn’t fit she will kill me! This thing cost a fortune!”

      In Deidre’s defense, Blake’s mom was the one who had insisted Deidre order a size smaller, assuring her that it would be a perfect fit after she lost a few pounds. At least at the last fitting she’d been able to zip it up all the way. She’d have been fine if she didn’t eat, or move. Or breathe.

      As far as Ivy was concerned Blake’s mother was getting exactly what she deserved for being such a demanding, controlling twit. But Ivy did not want to see Deidre unhappy.

      “Turn around,” she ordered and her cousin complied, her lip clamped so hard between her teeth Ivy worried she might bite clear through. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it fit.”

      She grasped the zipper tag. It was slightly disfigured from the workout Deidre had given it. “I want you to inhale and suck it in as far as you can. You ready?”

      She nodded.

      “On the count of three. One…two…three!”

      Deidre sucked, and Ivy pulled for all she was worth. Deidre grunted as Ivy managed to get her zipped about halfway. Then there was an earsplitting rip, and the zipper tag popped loose and flew across the bathroom.

      The little tear was now a gaping hole.

      Oh, shit.

      “That sounded bad,” Deidre said, her voice small and frightened.

      “It was bad.” Ivy was no expert, but she was pretty sure it would take at least an inch of fabric to fix it.

      At least.

      There was no way this dress was going to fit Deidre by Saturday. It wouldn’t fit by next week, either. She would have to starve herself and work out nonstop for a month just to get it zipped up.

      Ivy had to wonder if all this was worth it. All this frustration and compromise, just to be married.

      Not for her. She liked being single and intended to keep it that way.

      There was a loud bang on the door. “Are you planning on staying in there until the wedding?” Dee snapped.

      All the color had drained from Deidre’s face and her eyes were wide with terror. “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

      Ivy didn’t know, but they had to do something. Deidre started to hyperventilate and her face was ashen.

      “Give us a few minutes!” Ivy shouted back, and told her cousin, “Relax. We’ll figure out something.”

      Deidre started to cry. Big, fat tears ran down her cheeks. “This is an omen.”

      “Everything will work out,” she assured her, but Deidre wasn’t listening.

      “This whole stupid week, my whole life has been one big, bad omen!”

      “Deidre, shh—”

      “And I hate this stupid dress!” she shrieked. She tugged it down and shoved it to the floor then proceeded to stomp it flat with her bare feet. “I’ve hated it from the second that witch forced me into picking it.”

      Oh, jeez. The stress was too much. It had finally happened. She had come completely unglued.

      There was another loud bang on the door. “We’re waiting!”

      Deidre snatched the dress from the bathroom floor and, wearing only panties and a strapless push-up bra, ripped open the door.

      “Here I am! Are you happy?”

      Ivy cringed and followed her out. There wasn’t much she could do at this point. Other than hold Deidre back if she tried to strangle one of the twins.

      The Tweedles stood there in their identical size one dresses with identical stunned looks on their faces.

      “Yes, I’m fat!” Deidre all but screamed at them, wild-eyed and sweaty, spinning in a circle so they got the full view. “Does that make you feel better?”

      The seamstress looked downright frightened. Apparently she’d never seen a bride-to-be have a total nervous breakdown. She flinched and cowered when Deidre thrust the tattered, wrinkled dress at her.

      “This dress does not fit me. I wear a size sixteen. Not a fourteen, not a twelve. A sixteen. Find me a size sixteen or I will hurt you. Understand?”

      The seamstress nodded, her head wobbling on her neck like one of those bobble-head dogs in a car window. She grabbed the dress and scurried out of the room. The Tweedles, their pea-size brains apparently sensing danger, weren’t far behind her.

      Then it was just Ivy and Deidre.

      Deidre sat on the edge of the bed looking shell-shocked. “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

      Ivy wasn’t sure what this was. If she meant she couldn’t go through with this particular wedding, or if she couldn’t marry Blake at all. And honestly, she was afraid to ask.

      “Do you know what I need?” she asked.

      Wow. The list was so long Ivy wasn’t sure where to begin. But if she had to pick one thing, she would start with Valium. “What do you need?”

      “I need chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.”

      It took two hours and an entire box of Ho Hos to calm Deidre down. By the time the men returned, Ivy had managed to get her into her pajamas and tucked into bed. And thanks to one of the emergency sleeping pills Ivy kept on hand, she was resting peacefully.

      She explained to Blake what had happened.

      “What should I do?” he asked, looking so hopelessly baffled she wanted to hug him. She had several suggestions, but it would be better if Blake figured this one out on his own. He’d gone too long letting people run his life for him.

      He needed to grow up.

      Or Deidre needed to find herself a new future husband.

      “Deidre isn’t feeling well,” Blake announced the next morning at breakfast, when he came to the table alone. His brothers and the Tweedles looked from him, then to each other, and snickered. Didn’t they feel the least bit guilty for what had happened?