No Strings Attached: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eight by Julie Moffett

bottles of pink champagne on ice. One bottle was already open and six crystal flutes were artfully arranged around the bucket. Guess Amanda had been expecting a larger party. I almost felt sorry that Basia had brought only me, especially since I wasn’t at all certain how much I could contribute to this excursion.
    “Oh, it’s all lovely,” Basia said, clapping her hands together happily. “Look at those lovely tea lights and scattered red rose petals. Every detail is perfect.”
    It didn’t strike me as overly perfect, but I had exactly zero expectations for a bridal dressing room, so what did I know? I guess the tea lights, which were actually just small oil lamps, the champagne and the rose petals did kind of look pretty.
    Amanda came bustling into the room with two dresses wrapped in plastic over her arms. She hung them both on a hook near the door. I wanted to try on my bridesmaid dress as much as I wanted a pap smear. But it would have to be done, so I had to endure.
    Amanda pulled my dress out from beneath the plastic cover. It was pretty on the hanger, but I was sure that, without any discernible curves, I’d look like a red popsicle in it. Regardless, I smiled and pretended it was the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen.
    Basia inspected the dress and held it up against me. “Perfect. You’re going to look lovely, Lexi.”
    “If you say so.” I could barely look at myself in the mirror. God, I needed a drink.
    As if she’d read my mind, Amanda walked over to the table. “Before we get started and see your dress, Basia, let’s celebrate with champagne.” She pulled out the chilled bottle and poured two flutes. She handed one to Basia and the other one to me.
    I happily lifted the glass to my lips when Amanda started shrieking at me.
    “No, no, no! Stop! You have to toast first.”
    I reluctantly lowered my glass. “Sorry.”
    Amanda collected herself, smoothed down her blond bob. “You, Lexi, as the maid of honor, must provide the toast. Please, toast to the dress.”
    “Excuse me?” I looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You want me to toast...the dress?”
    “Of course.” Amanda and picked up an empty champagne flute. She clinked it against mine. “You know...to the dress .”
    I didn’t know why she was looking at me like I was a total idiot. Did people really toast dresses? I guess it was possible, but it had never crossed my mind. Then again, I’d never been to a wedding dress fitting before, so what the heck did I know? Maybe people across the world lifted their glasses to wedding dresses all the freaking time.
    Fine. I could toast a stupid dress if it was protocol. Playing my part of the dutiful maid of honor, I held up my champagne and clinked my glass against Basia’s.
    “Um, here’s to the dress. May it fit and be acceptable to you.”
    There. That hadn’t been too hard.
    Amanda rolled her eyes at me over Basia’s shoulder. I guess my tone had been wrong. Or the emotional introduction had been missing. Or it was painfully clear I thought this whole toast-to-the-dress thing was colossally ludicrous. Narrowing my eyes at Amanda, I lifted the flute to my lips just before Basia burst into tears.
    I lowered my glass. “Basia, don’t cry. I can do a new toast. A better one. I promise. Just give me a minute to think one up.”
    Tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. “Oh, no, Lexi. It wasn’t the toast. It’s just I can’t believe I’m getting married in just over a month. I mean, I’ve dreamed of this day since I was a little girl. Now it’s happening. It means so much that you are here with me, sharing in this special moment. You’re my best friend in the world.”
    She set down her glass and threw her arms around me, sobbing. I awkwardly patted her back and tried desperately to come up with an appropriate response. It was hard when I still wasn’t sure exactly why she was crying. Were they tears of sorrow, tears of relief or