I take the backseat, because I’m hoping that will eliminate any string of questioning that leads back to Fisher.
But I should know better.
Whimsy turns around to face me with a sly smile. “So, Fisher made your coffee?”
I roll my eyes. “It was just coffee.”
As if reading my thoughts, Sabrina glances back at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you ever going to just come out and spill what happened? We all have eyes. I’m pretty sure everyone knows you guys were together except Noah. He’s pretty oblivious.”
“Everyone?” I nearly choke on my tongue and end up swallowing wrong which leads to me hacking in the back.
“Jeez.” Whimsy passes me a bottle of water. “We weren’t trying to kill you with the question. You don’t have to be dramatic and almost die by your own saliva on us.” I purse my lips and accept the water bottle. I take a few careful sips to help calm my throat. “I haven’t said anything to your brother, but he’s not dumb, and he’s made enough comments to me that it’s safe to say he knows you and Fisher have something between you two.”
“Ugh.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I feel a headache coming on. It sucks to hear that despite years having passed since our secret relationship that people can see that there’s something between us. “It’s in my past,” I say. “I’ve moved on.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Whimsy says in an almost pitying tone, “But have you?”
I don’t answer, opting instead to look out the window and contemplate her question.
It’s a tricky situation. In many ways I have moved on with my life, but in others Fisher and what could’ve been still very much haunts my memories.
The girls don’t press me though, leaving me to stew in my silence while they make small talk about what’s planned for today and the upcoming wedding.
We arrive at the bridal boutique and Sabrina hooks her arm through mine and Whimsy does the same on my other side.
“No more talk about Fisher,” Sabrina promises. “Just fun.”
I give a small smile in return. It would probably be good for me to get it off my chest—to tell my friends all the details about my time with Fisher, the pregnancy, losing the baby and ultimately losing him. But I’ve kept it buried down deep for so long that the idea of sharing it makes me downright sick to my stomach. It was hard enough to admit that there had been something with us.
Inside, the boutique is decorated in soft pastel shades of pink, blue, and lavender with floral wallpaper donning the walls and three separate areas set up with a pedestal and a small couch for viewing the bride to be.
“Sabrina,” croons a southern sounding woman to our right. “Are you ready for your final fitting?” The brown-skinned woman does a little shimmy as she approaches.
“You have no idea.” Sabrina lets go of my arm and Whimsy does the same. “I’m so ready to be married.”
“I assume these are more of your friends?” The woman asks.
“Yes. And Lucy and Alyssa who you’ve already met should be here any minute. This is Ebba.” She gestures to me. “And Whimsy. Guys, this is Laurel. She owns the shop.”
“This place is lovely,” I say, looking around.
“Thank you, dear.” She smiles kindly. “Would you all like any tea? Champagne? Wine?”
“I’m good,” Whimsy says.
“I’ll take some champagne.” Maybe some of the bubbly liquid will help calm me.
“You all have a seat here and Sabrina follow me to a dressing room.” She crooks her finger and Sabrina trails after her, glancing back at us with a smile.
“She’s so happy,” Whimsy says when she’s gone from our sight.
“She really is.”
Whimsy crosses her legs and stares me down. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you, though.”
I huff softly. “If you’re referring to my abysmal love life, there’s more to life than just that.”
“I know.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re unhappy, Ebba. I’ve known you for years and I can’t recall you ever being this mopey.”