Hollywood's Princess [PUBLISHED]

Chapter Twenty-Three: Wedding Dress

When the door of the hotel room swung open, Adam wrapped a protective arm around my waist and gently pushed me behind his back, giving the man that I call my father a warning look.

He stared at my best friend before shifting his gaze to me, I bit my lip before I looked away, burying my face into Adam’s shirt.

I’m not ready to face him yet.

Sighing, dad walked around us before disappearing down the hall.

One more goal before this summer ends, I hope I send my father back to England with us in good terms.

But before that, I peeked inside the room and found Kate busy typing away on her laptop, as if she was completely oblivious to our arrival and short dramatic scene with her fiancé.

I cleared my throat rather loudly and she finally lifted her gaze from the screen. Giving us a polite smile, she tapped on a few more buttons before shutting down the device, “Just chatting with my maid of honour.”

Nodding my head at her statement, we stepped inside the room and I pointed out of the door, “We better head out now, we have a very busy day ahead of us.”

I want to make it up to her all those time when I’ve been acting such a bitch. I called up an appointment with Macy for a meet up about possible locations and a meeting with one of the best wedding dress designers in Hollywood.

Maybe I’ve been too harsh on Kate, so even though I’m still mad at my father, I’m going to do my best to let her have the wedding she desires.

She grabbed her purse from its spot on the bed before heading out of the room. I turned the door and when I was halfway through, I turned back to Adam who was staring at Kate’s laptop with a new kind of curiosity.

“Adam,” I called out softly and he snapped out of his trance. He gave me a sheepish smile as he followed right after us.

That was definitely weird.

Entering the restaurant we saw that Macy was already there, sipping on the coffee she ordered as she looked over the papers she had laid out on the table. We approached her and when she looked up at us, she stood up, straightening out her skirt before giving each of us a handshake.

“So glad to see you again,” she gave as a warm smile before she gestured to the seats, wanting this meeting to start.

Looking over the papers, I nodded in approval at the various places printed on there. It had pictures of venues and with accurate description of each one.

“I took the liberty of printing up some places you might be interested in,” she explained, handing us a binder, “But I would like to know where exactly do you want your wedding to be held?”

Without a moment of hesitations, Kate laced her fingers together as she answered her question, “Home, I want it to be done in England.”

Macy nodded, quickly grabbing her list and eliminating all the locations that was not part of Kate’s preference.

If it’s going to be held across the Atlantic Ocean, that means that I need to visit the place I once called home.

I have mixed feelings about it, I sincerely miss everything about it. From the freezing cold to the amazing sense of comfort it gives, I crave to see it again. I fly there every Christmas season, but I guess two weeks per year wasn’t enough for me.

But every time I step on that familiar land, there’s something at the pit of my stomach. Even though for the first fifteen years of my life, I grew up there, it felt so foreign. It was as if I drifted away from it.