Chapter 14

• “You know what shits me?” I moan as I look into my compact mirror at my face, turning my head. “When I pay good money and say I have a wedding and I want to look hot, that does not mean code for I want to look like the tooth fairy on crack.”
• “I know, right,” Bridget tuts. We are in the back of a cab surveying the damage from our hair and makeup appointment. “At least your hair looks good. The silly bitch put so much lacquer in my hair I’m like a Venus Fly Trap. I hope there are no flies at the reception as they will all get stuck in my hair.” I giggle as I pull a disgusted face. At least the makeup disaster has taken the edge off my nerves—only three hours until I see him. I smile out the window as I hunch my shoulders. I feel like a little kid at Christmas.
• “Do you think I should have spray tanned?” I ask.