I don’t want to bring down the mood or start examining the questions in my head too closely, so I play pretend, telling myself that slightly cold feet are normal. After all, getting married is a big deal and not one to take lightly.

“I’m fine. It’s just this damn corset!” I say with a grimace, grabbing my sides. “After I meet with Colin tomorrow, everything should be good to go.” I look between the both of them, spreading my arms out to the side and twirling across the showroom stage in my dress one last time. “Final verdict?”

“Not my favorite,” Abi says, shaking her head.

“I agree,” Archie co-signs. “It’s totally giving me Tangled, meets the Little Mermaid, meets Cinderella vibe, but like they all became dancers on the Vegas strip. Emphasis on the strip.”

“Gee, thanks, Arch,” I mutter sourly. But funnily enough, I agree with his assessment, although my terms were a little less . . . animated and crude.

Archie winks at me. “You’re welcome, sweet cheeks.”

“Don’t worry, Vi. We’re going to keep looking and find the perfect dress that’ll knock Colin flat on his ass!” Abigail’s assertion settles me slightly, helping me focus on the issue at hand . . . my dress. If I can just find that, everything else will be smooth sailing.

“Yeah, turn that frown upside down!” Archie adds, pushing at my cheeks with two fingers. He looks deep into my eyes, and I’m expecting some sweet words of wisdom, but I should know better with Archie. “Just think, before you know it, Colin won’t have to bag it up anymore, and you’ll get to feel the real thing. How big we talking here?” He holds his fingers a few inches apart, spreading them to indicate a bigger and bigger appendage, but it’s seeing the whites of his eyes growing as I don’t stop him that does me in.

“Oh, God, you’re too much!” I groan, forcing his hand down and chuckling.

Come on, girl. Everything is going to work out. It has to.

* * *

“I’m calling off the engagement.”

The words hit me like a freight train, a grenade launched directly into my heart.

When Colin told me he wanted to meet with me this morning, I was under the impression it was to discuss the details of our wedding, plan who we were inviting, what DJ we were going to use, etc.

Never in a million years did I think it would be to dump me.

“Violet?” Colin asks, noticing that I’ve gone completely rigid, my latte frozen inches away from my lips and my half-eaten bagel in front of me.

Colin Radcliffe. My fiancé. My ex-fiancé, I correct with a wince. Fucking rat is what my mind is yelling loudly.