BooksBarbecue
Back First Comes Love Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

Back in the fitting room, a seamstress comes to take all my measurements and fit the dress corset and skirt. When everything’s pinned in place, the shop assistant helps me out of the gown one last time. She carefully places the dress back on its hanger and finally leaves me alone. I put my clothes on and stare at my wedding dress dangling from its hanger. The ruffles look stupid. I hate ruffles.

“You’re hideous,” I tell it.

Why did I say I liked this dress? When did I become such a pushover?

“Come on, Gemma. You’re getting married, the dress isn’t important; it’s the groom who matters.” My stomach twists. Okay, let’s not go there either. I’m sure every bride’s nervous before her wedding, and dresses must be the single most second-guessed item of all weddings.

“Not grooms, though.”

Inner self, please shut the hell up.

I put on my I-am-so-happy face again and join the others outside to go to lunch. After we’re done eating, I send everyone off doing touristy things around London and go on a maddening wedding suppliers round. I go to Fulham Palace, the wedding venue, to give my final approval to the logistics, flowers compositions, and menu. Then I bring the advance check to the photographer and meet the cake designer to make sure he has the right instructions for delivery. I hate wedding planning.

By the time I get back home, I’ve barely managed to shower before we go out again. Richard and I take my family to a restaurant. Unfortunately, even dinner turns out to be too much of a formal affair. Everyone is making an effort, but the conversation’s stiff at best. That’s when I realize my parents don’t know my future husband, like, at all. Richard’s being as charming as ever, but they lack that mutual coziness, which can only come from years of mutual interactions.

“Like it was with Jake.”

Ah, Gemma, don’t go there. I swat the thought away like an annoying fly.

I find it hard to enjoy the fine dining when the atmosphere’s so awkward. The only person not having difficulties is Kassandra. She’s stuffing her mouth full of as much food as she can take, very much resembling a chipmunk. She doesn’t have a problem making conversation either, talking to Richard as if she’d known him her entire life. Then again, she does that with everyone.

To be fair, Richard’s parents don’t know me any better. They live up north, and we’ve only been to visit them a couple of times. These things take time, and we have the rest of our lives for our families to get cozy with each other.