When Girlfriends Chase Dreams Read Online Free PDF

finally open up those shop doors and make her dreams come true. Not to mention I need to cut back on my amount of sweets-testing if I’m going to fit into any wedding dress. Although with the bakery actually open and a vast assortment of cupcakes on display…yeah, that could pose a problem for my hips and thighs, too.
    “The place isn’t ready for paint yet. The contractors are still working,” Sophie says. “I’m thinking about having them blow out one more wall. You know that small one?”  
    “Mm-hmm.”
    “Either blow it out and expand the front room or make a pony wall out of it. What do you think?”
    “Pony wall would be cute.” I sip on my tea.
    “That’s what I’m leaning towards,” she says. “You want to swing over some time this week and take a look with me?”
    I haven’t been to the space since before the holidays, and it was barely Sophie’s space then. Only a mere signed lease at that point. Now she has a construction crew going at it around the clock trying to get it ready for a grand opening this spring. And with the crazy wedding stuff I haven’t had a second to lend to her. (Unless you count taste-testing.) Poor thing is juggling managing the opening of her shop with the maid of honor duties. But I’m going to get a planner soon. That’ll ease up the workload for sure.
    “I’ll meet you at the future site of The Cup and the Cake,” I tell her with a giggle, “Seattle’s very best café, of course. We can meet up after my consultation with the wedding planner on Wednesday.”

Chapter Three

    I steal a look at myself in the mirror before I head out the door. I look all right. Not my greatest, but definitely not my worst. Somewhere happily in the middle. I rarely ever wear makeup, unless of course it’s an important event or a night out or something like that. It’s so uncomfortable, and I always feel like my pores are suffocating, and then I fear I’m going to break out into pimples and look like a tween.
    I already think I look half my age. It was fun at twenty-one to be carded for drinks or at clubs, and not so bad at twenty-two or even twenty-three. At twenty-seven, I’m over it. And I’m engaged now, anyway! Shouldn’t the pretty diamond ring on my finger be sign enough that I don’t need to whip out my driver’s license?
    Besides, the photo is super old, and I was not having a particularly good hair day. I even begged the cranky DMV lady to retake it, but she gave me a deadpan look, followed by a robotic line of, “That’ll be twenty-five dollars.” The blotchy-faced and frizzy-haired girl in the picture is evidence I had a tight grip on the purse strings that day.  
    Today, though, even if I still look as young as that driver’s license photo looked (which was taken ages ago), I won’t look haggard. I apply a light pink blush to my cheeks, a similarly-shaded gloss to my lips, and push my curly hair back in a very stylish grey headband. It’s the perfect shade of grey, matching the ruffled flower on one shoulder of my three-quarter-length shirt. I tug on the pair of Burberry rain boots that Sophie gifted to me for Christmas last month.
    My appointment to meet with the next and last wedding coordinator on my list is in less than thirty minutes. Luckily, the storm’s let up, and now all that remains are piles of snow pushed to the sides of the roads and walkways. The streets are almost completely cleared, which is a good thing, because my Toyota Corolla can’t handle damp roads, bumpy detours, or speeds above sixty. Snow is entirely out of the question.
    Thank God Conner has a pretty reliable truck for when the two of us need to get somewhere. Conner’s told me countless times to take his truck instead of my car, especially when it’s acting up or the weather’s foul. But me? Behind the wheel of something bigger than a Corolla? Too much. Too much power and height and mass for me. No…I’ll stick with my compact baby, however broken she may be.
    I’m off to