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

tears of joy? How the heck was I supposed to know? The urge to bolt was overwhelming.
    When I didn’t say anything—because I couldn’t think of a freaking thing to say—Basia started to sob harder. Panic gripped me, but a single intelligent comment that was both safe and reassuring refused to present itself. I was lacking significant parameters and was deathly afraid a wrong comment would make things worse. Amanda disappeared and came back with a box of tissues.
    “Oh, honey, you are going to be a beautiful bride,” she said, handing Basia a tissue. She shot me an exasperated look. Maid of honor epic failure. Again.
    “Seeing yourself in the dress for the first time really brings it all home, doesn’t it?” Amanda added, patting her on the back. “Don’t worry. You’re going to look beautiful.”
    Basia pulled away from me and dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “Oh, thanks, Amanda. I’m sorry I’m being so emotional.”
    A cranky little monster arose within me. It wasn’t fair that Amanda had so effortlessly been able to find the right thing to say. The playing field wasn’t close to even because she probably had a lot of practice at this, while it was my first time soothing a bride-to-be.
    “Nonsense, you’re being a normal bride.” Amanda took Basia’s champagne flute and set it on the table. “Your wedding is the most important day of your life. Who wouldn’t be emotional about that?”
    Amanda glanced over at me and I saw the answer in her eyes. I gulped the rest of my champagne and filled it up again. We hadn’t even tried on the dress yet and one bottle of champagne was almost gone. I wasn’t much for alcohol, but I was already fighting an overwhelming urge to flee. If we had to be here much longer, I was going to need something a lot stronger than champagne.
    “Let’s try on your dress,” Amanda said to Basia. “Strip down now.”
    Thank God we weren’t trying on my dress first. I needed to have more alcohol before I could do that.
    Basia started taking off her clothes while I polished off my second glass of champagne and filled a third. I then began pacing until Amanda pointed at one of the armchairs and instructed me in a stern voice to sit down.
    I sat, hoping I would have no greater responsibility than to offer an appropriate nod and encouraging smile every once in a while before it was my turn to try on the dress. Amanda slipped her hand under the white plastic cover of Basia’s dress, taking hold of the hanger. Before she pulled the dress all the way out from beneath the cover, she told Basia to cover her eyes.
    “Let’s make this a surprise. I’ll tell you when to open them.”
    Standing there in just her underwear and covering her boobs with her hands, Basia smiled and closed her eyes. Amanda carefully pulled the dress out from the wrap and held it up.
    “Voilà!”
    My champagne flute nearly slipped from my fingers. “Holy crap. What is that ?”
    “What is what?” Basia asked, opening her eyes.
    Amanda stood still as a statue. The expression on her face was one of frozen horror.
    Basia saw the dress and gasped. “Oh, my God. That’s supposed to be a rose on the waistband. The seamstress said she could embellish the dress with a tiny, delicate rose.” Her voice broke. “But that looks like a...a...”
    She couldn’t say it.
    I couldn’t say it either.
    Instead of a rose, that thing on her dress looked more like a large, exact scientific replica of a pink, female private part. Blossoming open.
    On her freaking wedding dress.

Chapter Fifteen
    I dared a worried glance at Basia. Her face had drained of all color except now there was a faint green tinge. I thought she might faint or vomit. I had to say something to break the awfulness of the moment, but what?
    “Ah...uh...” I stuttered.
    Basia looked at me, clutching her hands to her naked chest. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”
    I had to do something. I was her best friend. The maid of honor. The responsibility was on me