Time To Heal [COMPLETED]

EPILOGUE

"Aimee, she's driving me crazy," Ana complained for the umpteenth time as she joined her friend in the coffee room after one laden session with Jennifer about the wedding plans. Having no wish for a grand wedding, Ana had done the intrinsic mistake of handing the preparations over to her PR, who had suddenly transformed into her worst nightmare.

Things were inexorably getting out of hands – what had started as an unpretentious family affair had transmuted to a celebrity wedding, precisely what Ana had been circumventing. Jennifer being her whimsical self was controlling the wedding to the weeniest details, from the color of the flowers to the food which would be served.

"I know she can be a pain, honey. The wedding's only a week ahead. Keep ignoring her," Aimee responded soothingly, sending her a sympathetic look before frowning back to the ivory mess of fabric in front of her.

Even handing Aimee the mission of designing her dress had been like winning a battle – Jennifer had insisted on every damned renowned designer for the task. Ana had adamantly refused, valiantly fighting for her fundamental rights at the beginning but when every minutia planning had turned into a challenge, the battlefield was sapping all her energies.

As it was, she was already tremendously high-strung at the thought of another wedding, another waiting for the groom moment. A bout of self-pity arose at her friend's reassuring but somewhat supine comment. It contained the subtle message that there was nothing to be done.

"But Aimee," she protested, wincing at how cantankerous her voice sounded – it was so unlike her. "I took hours to persuade her that I don't want to wear white this time," she complained despondently. "I can't believe I have to actually convince of my own misgivings. It's my wedding for Heaven's sake – she can't hijack it!"

It was hardly a surprise she was getting so panicky – she was not a traditional bride; she was a jilted one. And once bitten, twice shy. Pre-marital jitters were bupkis in contrast to the phobia she was experiencing.

"Ana," her friend sighed, putting aside her Swarovski jewels to deepen her frown at her. "Dev won't you down this time. Trust him."

At the mention of her fiancé, all her antagonism melted to be replaced by a lush warmth which was pathetic as well as comforting. Her languished spirits bloomed upright, achieving what she assumed was her best friend's motive. The effect Dev had on her was incontrovertible – even her ice princess façade had collapsed every time the media mentioned his name.

They'd been dating for a bit over four months, during which she'd been living a fairy-tale where Dev had spoiled her every whim, not with just money but with his full attention and love. And S.E.X.

The dreamy expression on her face must have said it all because Aimee's eyebrows lifted until they reached her hairline, her baffled look making Ana want to giggle foolishly.

"Is it that good?" she whispered in awe, a small amount of envy appearing on her already comical facial features. "What kind of good are we talking here?"

There was no denying the sexual innuendo in that sentence. Ana could not help the complacent feeling which swamped her, her mouth exploding into a Cheshire smile out of its own volition. 'The multiple orgasms kind of good."

It was very satisfying to watch her friend's mouth form a perfect 'O', the wonder glazing in her cyan blue eyes a perfect facsimile of her own. "O.M.G! "If I had known he was that good, I would have kept him for myself," Aimee sighed with exaggerated drama.

Both friends stared at each other maintaining deadpan expressions before squealing into girlish laughter, all previous misunderstanding about Aimee completely annihilated.