"I swear, if this person doesn't show up, I'm going back to that restaurant to find that waitress and make her tell me who sent her with all those messages," Freya muttered, her tone sharp and full of restrained fury. "And if she doesn't spill, I'll have her arrested."
Tessy, who had been trying—very unsuccessfully—not to burst into laughter, finally let it out. She fell onto the bed with a loud cackle, shaking with amusement at her best friend's dramatic declaration.
The two of them were in Freya's bedroom, where the past hour had been spent tearing through racks and drawers of clothes in search of the dress for Freya's date. Makeup kits lay sprawled open across the vanity, shoes kicked into corners, and various rejected dresses hung limply on the closet door.
"Have some faith, Freya," Tessy giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "This person could end up being your husband. Don't be so faithless."
