"I did mention that you looked very nice, didn't I?" I verified.
"Yes." He grinned again. I'd never seen him dress in black before, and, with the contrast against his beautifully pale skin, his alabaster beauty was absolutely surreal. That much I couldn't deny, even if the fact that he was wearing a tuxedo and a top hat made me very nervous.
Not quite as nervous as the dress. Or the shoe. Only one shoe, as my other foot was still securely encased in plaster, and Dolce & Gabbana didn't make shoes for people with really fat feet. But the stiletto heel, held on only by satin ribbons, certainly wasn't going to help me as I tried to hobble around.
"I'm not coming over anymore if Alice is going to treat me like Guinea Pig Barbie when I do," I groused. I'd spent the better part of the day in Alice's staggeringly vast bathroom, a helpless victim as she played hairdresser and cosmetician. Whenever I fidgeted or complained, she reminded me that I didn't have anyone else in my life who would spend this much time trying to make me look beautiful. Then she'd dressed me in the most ridiculous dress—deep blue, frilly, and off the hook, with French shit on the tags that I couldn't even read—a dress more suitable for a night out in Paris than Forks. Nothing good could come of our formal attire, of that I was sure. Unless... but I was afraid to put my suspicions into words, even in my own head.
I was distracted then by the sound of a bee buzzing. Fredward pulled his cell phone from a pocket inside his cravat, holding it briefly to his ear before speaking.
"Hello, Chuck," he said warily.

483

Chapter 25

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