Take On Me. Sarah Mayberry

colleagues and she trusted them implicitly, so she made a big effort to calm her nerves and stand docilely for the next few minutes as they continued to fuss. Finally, she felt a last tug around her middle, then Claudia let out a sigh.

      “Done!”

      “Me, too,” Grace said.

      They both stepped back and surveyed her with satisfaction.

      “Nice work with the veil,” Claudia said to Grace.

      “Not so shabby on the dress work, either,” Grace said, returning the compliment.

      Sadie raised an amused eyebrow. “Does this mean I finally get to look?”

      Grace and Claudia grabbed a shoulder each and gently turned her around to face the freestanding mirror in the middle of her bedroom.

      The woman facing her was a stranger, an elegant fairy princess in floating ivory silk, her blond hair swept into a sleek, sophisticated updo, her neck long and slender, her pale skin flawless, her large brown eyes dramatic and sexy.

      “Wow. Is that really me?” Sadie squeaked.

      “Yep. Gorgeous, as always,” Claudia confirmed.

      Sadie blushed at her friend’s compliment, but a frown creased her forehead as her gaze inevitably drifted to her chest. It was pathetic, but she would probably never be one-hundred-percent happy with the size of her breasts, she admitted to herself. Too much baggage. Too long waiting around for the damned things to arrive in the first place. Who didn’t develop breasts until they were nineteen, for Pete’s sake? It was a form of cruelty, as far as Sadie was concerned.

      “What’s wrong? You hate the way I did the veil, don’t you?” Grace asked, her clear green eyes clouded with concern.

      Sadie pushed the old, old worry way. She was a B cup. Perfectly respectable. It was because she was nervous—that was why such an old, dusty preoccupation had reared its ugly head.

      “It’s perfect, thank you. I was just wondering if I should have gone with a white dress instead of ivory,” she fibbed.

      Claudia made a rude noise. “Even ivory is pushing it, lady,” she said knowingly.

      “Hey!” Sadie said, pretending to be offended. “Are you implying I’m not a virgin?”

      “I hope you’re not,” Grace said. “I’ll have to take down all that stuff I wrote about you on the toilet wall.”

      They all giggled like idiots, then Sadie caught sight of the time and a jolt of adrenaline rocketed through her. The car would be here in twenty minutes.

      “You guys had better get dressed,” she advised.

      “Remind me again how you talked me into this dress,” Grace muttered as she unzipped the long, figure-hugging, strapless red sheath that had been tailor-made for her bombshell figure.

      “Let me see… Because I am Bridezilla, and I must have my way?” Sadie suggested lightly.

      “And because you were outvoted two to one,” Claudia said as she slid into her pint-size version of the same dress. Although she was petite, Claudia’s figure was still feminine, and the red fabric clung to her curves. With her olive skin and almost-black Greek eyes, she looked stunning.

      “Oh, God.”

      Sadie turned from contemplating Claudia’s dark beauty to see that Grace had pulled on her dress and stepped into her stiletto heels. Red silk outlined her classic hourglass figure, zooming in dramatically at her tiny waist, and then out again for her fantastic, sexy hips. She looked like Veronica Lake and Betty Grable and Marilyn Monroe, all rolled into one sexy, hot mama.

      “Hubba, hubba.” Sadie hooted approvingly.

      Grace blushed a fiery red to match the dress. “I look like an overcooked hot dog,” she said gruffly. “If one of these seams gives, duck for cover.”

      Sadie laughed and shook her head. They looked beautiful. Red had been the ideal choice for both of them, and the classy dress set off their different figures to perfection.

      “I think we need more champagne,” she said, moving across to where the last bottle rested on ice. She and Grace had already guzzled a whole bottle while their hair and makeup was being done—Claudia being a staunch teetotaler—but Sadie figured the alcohol would help settle her growing nerves.

      She was getting married! Her mind turned briefly to Greg Sinclair, the handsome blond man she would soon call husband. She wondered what he was doing, how he was feeling. Was he as nervous-excited as she was? Would it be cheating to call him before the wedding?

      Resisting the temptation to jinx things by making a quick phone call, Sadie concentrated on working the cork loose from the champagne bottle as Claudia and Grace put the finishing touches on their hair and makeup.

      She had to stifle a smile as she heard Claudia bossily telling Grace to not even think about putting on the heavy black-framed retro glasses she habitually wore.

      “Banned from the wedding,” Claudia announced firmly.

      She was going to make a great producer on Ocean Boulevard, Sadie knew. She sighed happily to herself as she poured out the champagne. Her life was so good right now. It had been cool enough working with Grace for the past two years as script producer to her script editor on Ocean Boulevard, the daytime soap that currently consumed her working hours, but now Claudia would be joining them as producer of the show. It didn’t get much better—doing something she loved for a living with her two closest friends by her side. And, in under an hour’s time, she would be married to an amazing, funny, clever, gorgeous man.

      “Pinch me, quick,” she said to Grace as her friend came over to collect a glass of champagne.

      “Sure,” Grace said, obliging with a gentle nip on Sadie’s arm. “Better?”

      Sadie grinned and slid an arm around her friend’s waist. “Where would I be without you guys?”

      Claudia joined them, and she slid an arm around her waist, too. Across the room, the mirror reflected their images back at them and Sadie couldn’t help smiling. What a mismatched set—Claudia the pocket-rocket, string-bean old her and Grace the va-voom vamp.

      “I love you guys. Thanks so much for doing this with me,” she said.

      Claudia and Grace squeezed their arms tighter around her waist, and she had to stare at the ceiling for a few seconds and blink like crazy to avoid crying.

      “Suck ’em back in, Sadie—no brides with panda eyes on our shift,” Claudia said encouragingly.

      Sadie laughed, the humor helping to restore her equilibrium. Bang on time, the doorbell rang.

      “God, the car’s here already,” she said, her nerves ratcheting up a notch.

      The next five minutes were spent in a bustle of activity as they gathered all the items Grace and Claudia considered necessary to maintaining her appearance through the ceremony and reception—including the rest of the bottle of champagne. Her bridesmaids spent another five minutes out in the street discussing the best way for Sadie to sit on her skirt, until finally Sadie stepped past them and squished herself into the seat.

      “Easy,” she said when they stared at her, scandalized.

      The church was a ten-minute drive away, and she sat back and tried to let the sunny blue sky soothe her. It was useless, however—her brain was like a hamster on a wheel. What if she forgot her vows? She’d always been hopeless at remembering lines. And what if she tripped when she walked up the aisle and her skirt flipped up and—God! Had she even remembered to put underwear on? She clapped a hand to her hip, but was unable to feel anything through all the layers of fabric.

      She turned to Claudia on her right. “Did I put underwear on? Can you remember?” she asked urgently.

      Claudia patted her arm reassuringly. “You need to stop thinking,