Dusty's Wedding, Part II

Daisy’s voice interrupted her reverie: “Dusty, are you listening to me at all?”
“Yeah,” she answered back, her voice shaky. Daisy sighed. “Look, I suggest you get a move on. Mom and dad are on their way – the limo should be getting there soon.” There was a click and then the dial tone, and then the crashing of the phone as Dusty let it fall back into the cradle. She stood up fast from the bed, the way she always did, and like always the blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. A shower and an espresso later, she was already in her wedding dress, waiting for the limo. The phone rang and she answered with a brusque, “Yes, Daisy?”
“No, it’s your husband,” came the other voice, and Dusty’s eyebrows knit together.
“Not yet, you’re not,” she said as she slipped on her white pumps. “Anyways, Isn’t it bad luck to be talking to you before the wedding?”
“I think that’s just if we see each other, so we’re OK. When are you getting here, Dusty?”
Dusty adjusted her veil so that it wasn’t obstructing her sight.

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