by Lisa Scott
Her eyes flicked away from mine, and she took off the ring with a shaky hand.
I looked at the ring and remembered what it had meant for my mom; what it had meant for me and Sam, if only for a very short time. Why did life have to be about suffering and hurting and constant disappointment? If Sam had taught me anything, it was about taking risks, and chasing dreams. Sucking in a deep breath, I dropped down to one knee. “This might sound crazy, Sam, but I don’t want to give you up. I love you. Will you marry me? For real?”
Her jaw dropped and tears fell and I hoped that was a good sign. Then she nodded yes. I jumped up and slid the ring on her finger and hugged her. After several minutes of kissing and crying, I said, “It’s just too bad we used all your wedding money on the catering company. Maybe we can save up enough in a year or so.”
She kissed me, salty tears tickling our lips. “No way. I’m not waiting that long. And neither is your mother. I’d give anything for my mom to see me married. Your mother deserves that gift.”
I hugged her tighter, wondering what I’d done to deserve the kind of luck that had brought her to me.
***
I wasn’t sure if Micki was going to kill me or not, but I passed her the wedding invitation as we were sorting through the mail. “Hope one more’s not going to kill you,” I said.
She sighed. “I hope this isn’t from another blog reader. Strangers keep inviting me.” She ripped open the invitation, scanned the information, and it slipped from her fingers. “Is this for real?”
I nodded. “Do you think you could fit in bridesmaid duty one more time this summer? You could even wear one of the dresses you already have. Except Carrie’s, of course.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Not only will I be your bridesmaid, I will be your wedding planner and show the world what we can do in three weeks. That’ll get your catering business up and running. What’s the name of it, anyway?”
I grinned when I thought about the argument Justin and I had about the name the night before. I wanted Happy Endings Catering. But after an entirely unfair tickle fight, I gave in to his choice. “Great Beginnings Catering,” I told her.
“Excellent,” Micki said. “Because it will be. For all of us.”
Bridesmaid Blues
by Lisa Scott
“In conclusion, birds poop, goldfish go belly-up, and dogs hump at the worst moments. And that, dear readers, is why you should never include animals in your wedding plans.” I closed my laptop and cracked my knuckles, pleased with another killer blog entry. Life had handed me a basket of lemons in the form of thirteen wedding invitations for the season—I’d be a bridesmaid in eight of them. Scratch that. Fourteen weddings and I’d be in nine of them. My roommate, Samantha, had just announced she was getting married. The ceremony was two weeks away.
“You’re not having any animals in your wedding, are you?” I shouted to her across the apartment.
“Possibly Cornish game hens at the reception,” she called back.
“Nice.” Sam was one of the few brides who wasn’t fussing over the details. She was too smitten to care. All of these weddings were like an epidemic sweeping through Springfield. Luckily, I was immune. My family had three generations of broken marriages to remind me love doesn’t always last.
I checked the clock. In two hours I was due at the rehearsal dinner for wedding number three of the year, so I headed for the shower. Last year when I’d been invited to stand up in six weddings, I’d decided to blog about the adventure. This only led to more invitations this year from brides who thought I’d be a valuable addition to their team. I hadn’t seen my second cousin, Jenny, in five years, and now I was standing up in her wedding? Sure, our families had gone camping together when we were ten, but really? That warranted a spot in her wedding?
After showering, I double-checked the chart I’d made on a dry erase board to be sure I showed up at the right restaurant. I’d worn the wrong dress to a wedding a few weeks back. You wouldn’t believe how a little glitch like that can make a bride go ballistic, so I decided to get organized. Plus, the chart helped keep facts straight with my blog: “Bridesmaid Blues.” The name was misleading. I was probably the only woman on the planet who enjoyed always being the bridesmaid. I got to wear fancy dresses—that were usually cute—to open bar parties, where I could dance with hot guys, and quite often, hook up. Fine with me. I had no plans to get married—ever—for several good reasons I’d never be sharing on the web.
The sappy blog name was just a way to rope people in. Worrying about sad, single me would keep readers coming back. However, all of my wedding tips were legit. I got twenty thousand hits a month, several thousand subscribers, and advertisers were finally showing up. And since I was helping my roommate plan her wedding, I was going to add wedding planner to my talents. And I hadn’t seen a book or reality show out there yet featuring a perpetual bridesmaid. It was only a matter of time until I scored my fifteen minutes of fame and fortune.
I stood in front of my closet, wrapped in a damp towel, totally uninspired. “Come help me pick a dress,” I shouted to Sam. “The bachelorette party is right after the rehearsal dinner.”
She hurried into my room. “Are you just going out, or are you,” she waggled her eyebrows, “going out?”
I pulled a few dresses from my closet. “I’m standing up with the groom’s college roommate who is supposed to be hot and single.”
“So you’re going out.” Sam pointed to a sexy mini-dress. “Wear that. And I’ll be sure to stay at Justin’s tonight.”
Standing up in weddings was a better date generator than online dating. A wistful bridesmaid could be a huge turnoff for a guy just looking for a good time. But a woman who considered herself lucky not to be standing at the altar was incredibly appealing to most single guys. I got dressed, hopped in my car, and headed for the restaurant, grinning. This was going to be a fun summer.
When I found the banquet room, people were still milling around. Jenny spotted me and ran over. She kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand, her brown curls bobbing as she bounced in place. “I’m so glad you’re here! Isn’t this exciting? Are you going to write about this in your blog, too? The rehearsal dinner? I can send pictures if you need them. Would that help? Come with me and meet Ben.” Without giving me a chance to answer, she pulled me over to a group of men.
She tapped on a guy’s shoulder, and he turned around. I might have gasped. I’d seen his face before, and it was a very nice face. The body was even better. So, I’m shallow. Sue me. “You were in Gerald and Carrie’s wedding, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Gerald’s an old childhood friend. I had to miss the rehearsal dinner, and I never got a chance to talk to you the day of the wedding.”
I’d been busy taking notes at the over-the-top affair, upset that I didn’t have time for the hottie escorting the redhead three couples ahead of me. But it’s not everyday you see a six-foot tall wedding cake; I’d needed to take notes. I shook his outstretched hand. “Nice to see you again. I’m Gerald’s cousin. I’m surprised we’ve never met.”
His smile was divine. “Me too. He was instructed to introduce me to any beautiful women he knew.” He didn’t let go of my hand. “Good thing I’m standing up in ten weddings this summer. I guess my chances of running into you again were good.”
“Ten? I’m only in nine. Wow.” Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away, and toyed with a strand of my hair.
He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “We should compare calendars. Maybe we’re in a few more weddings together.” His voice alone could lure me to his bedroom.
We stood there grinning like idiots, and I had a feeling I’d get to know him much better before the night was over. Unfortunately, Jenny asked everyone to sit down. All the girls were seated at one table, and all the groomsmen at another.
“Well, I’ll talk to you later,” I said, as I sat next to, Kayla, Jenny’s maid of honor.
“That’s a promise.” He looked back at me
as he walked away.
Our eyes caught several times during dinner, and the twirling feeling in my tummy wasn’t going away. If it were a few years ago, I’d think about keeping this guy around for a little while. I’d been quite good at the serial monogamy thing, but my last boyfriend, Jared, had broken my heart so thoroughly, I’d decided guys weren’t going to be the center of my life anymore. It was a waste of my time and my heart. Considering them an entertaining diversion would keep the drama out of my life. Ben looked like a good diversion.
Once the last speeches were made at dinner, and the final coffee cups drained, Ben and I found each other. I stood a step closer than I normally would. “Where is the bachelor party headed?” I really hoped they weren’t going to a strip club. A girl can still be jealous even if she’s not looking for a long-term relationship.
“A sports bar across town. What about you guys?” His dark eyes bore into mine, then swept across the rest of me.
I shivered. “McGinty’s.”
“Maybe we can meet up afterwards?”
“I hope so.” I wrote down my phone number on one of my blogging business cards and handed it to him, then slowly sashayed out the door so he could take a good look at what was in store.
***
Jenny’s maid-of-honor had sent us on a bachelorette party scavenger hunt at the bar. The sooner I wrangled up a pair of boxer shorts, a condom, and a sock, the sooner I could leave and hopefully catch up with Ben. The business card and free drink had been easy to get, but I was going to have to suck it up and ask some chump for his undies—without him thinking he’d be getting anything in return.
I scanned the bar for a guy who looked small, drunk, and harmless, when the door opened and a crowd of guys tumbled in, hooting and laughing. I spotted Ben immediately, and he must have seen me, too, because he came right to me.
If you wanted a Webster’s definition for instant attraction, it was this. He took me by the hand and spun me around, pulling me closer. “I tried to convince the guys to leave sooner, but they insisted on stopping for late night wings at Hooters.” His lips were a whisper away from a kiss.
“I’m sure they were just lusting for wings.”
“I was the only one who voted down the idea. I was afraid I’d miss you.”
I thought about suggesting that we leave since it was pretty clear where things would be headed but then I remembered the list. I probably could’ve just left, but what if not completing the bachelorette scavenger hunt brought some sort of bad luck for the bride and groom, and they got divorced and I’d always blame myself? I smiled up at him. “Do you have a condom?”
He stepped back. “Wow. You get right to the point.”
I laughed and ran my hand down the front on his shirt. Nice muscles were hidden underneath. “Sorry. I should’ve clarified that I need a condom for our scavenger hunt. And men’s undies and a sock if you’re feeling generous.” I patted his chest.
“So, it’s for a game.” He smiled. “Good, I don’t want to rush things. I like to take my time.”
I arched an eyebrow. He was going to toy with me until tomorrow night after the wedding? I could live with a day of intense flirting. Besides, there were lots of other things we could do in the meantime. “You probably say that to all the bridesmaids.”
Shaking his head, he laughed. “Hardly.”
“Need any help getting out of your undies?”
He gave me a look. “Give me a moment in the bathroom. They probably have a condom machine in there, and I’ll take off my boxers. But you owe me.”
“Whatever you want.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Now that sounds promising.
Shaking his head laughing, he walked off. I fluffed my hair, blotted my face with powder, and added a quick slick of lip gloss.
When he came out of the bathroom, he handed me folded white boxers, a condom and a sock. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never done this for another woman. Going commando is much more uncomfortable than you’d think.” He grimaced.
I batted my eyelashes. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He stared at me and I gave him a flirty shrug. Then I dashed off and found Jenny’s maid-of-honor, passed over the goods and said, “I’m beat. Gotta get my beauty sleep.”
Jenny pouted, just like she did way back when it started raining on day four of the family camping trip, and she realized she’d forgotten her diary. “Micki, the wedding’s at four. You can stay out longer. I was going to donate my bra to the collection.” She pointed to the jungle of undergarments hanging from the ceiling over the bar. “And we were just going to challenge the guys to do a few body shots.”
That caught my attention, but I had something better waiting for me. “I’m a lightweight. I’ll see you tomorrow at the salon at noon.”
“Fine.” Jenny hugged me. “Don’t forget your dress. We’re getting ready there and then going straight to the church!”
I nodded, glad she reminded me. Thirteen weddings was a lot to juggle. Fourteen, That’s right. Fourteen. Kayla planted a crown of condoms on my head since I’d collected the most items off the scavenger list. I passed by Ben and told him to meet me outside in a few minutes instead of leaving together. I didn’t need the drama of retelling our night together during our hair and makeup session the next day. Flings are best kept discrete. Maybe I should start a blog on the proper fling…
I leaned against the brick wall outside, waiting for him. I took off my crown, inspecting the cheap rhinestone tiara adorned with brightly wrapped condoms. I guess it was a good consolation since I’d never see a wedding veil on my head.
Ben came out and smirked at the crown. “Nice.”
“You helped me win the scavenger hunt, so I suppose I should share these with you.” I plucked a condom from the crown and held it between two fingers. “Your place or mine?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was thinking we’d hit the coffee shop down the street.”
I blinked at him. “And do it in their bathroom?”
He took my hand. “Micki, I’m not looking to hook up with you tonight. I just want to get to know you better.”
My smile fell. What was I doing wrong? Anyone else would be pushing the speed limit to get me home. I shrugged. “Sure, I could use a coffee.”
He held my hand as we walked down the street. Instinct had me wanting to lean into him, to burrow into his arms, hold tight, and breathe in his warm, masculine scent. My heart ached for it. But I put a little room between us. What I wanted from Ben had nothing to do with my heart.
We settled at a table and he got us two cappuccinos. “I’m so glad we’re in another wedding together. I really wanted to talk to you at the last one, but everything got so crazy. Those doves were really distracting. One of them crapped on me. I had to drive around looking for a dry cleaner willing to fix it right away.”
I nearly choked. “That was you? I wasn’t sure who got dumped on. I blogged about it, though.” I shook my head, laughing. “That was an intense wedding. But it gave me several days worth of blog material.” Carrie was still sending me pictures I might want to consider for follow up posts. She thought she was the first one to do a gourmet crepe bar at the end of the night. Please.
“The brides don’t mind you blogging about their big day?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why I’ve been invited to half the weddings I’m in this year.”
He nodded. “It’s gotta be tough. I hate standing up in all these weddings when I want nothing more than to get married. You’re not alone with the bridesmaid blues. Guys can come down with it, too.”
He almost got sprayed with a mouthful of hot coffee. I set down my cup and made a time out sign. “Wait. You’ve got it all wrong. I do not want to get married. I only titled my blog like that because people assume all single women want to get married.”
He leaned back and his smile disappeared. “Why don’t you want to get married? I thought that’s what
all women wanted.”
How had my instincts been so wrong on this guy? I figured he had the word “player” tattooed on his chest. Or a running tally of his conquests on his ass cheeks. “I have plenty of reasons to never get hitched. If you look back over the last three generations in my family, not one couple has stayed together. Fine, great-grandma Lou didn’t divorce her husband, but she did shoot him. In my book that counts as breaking up.” I shrugged. “I think there must be some faulty DNA floating around in our family that keeps people from committing for life. Why fight my genes?”
“At least they’re trying. My family just shacks up and never gets married. My mom was never married and neither was her mom. My sisters aren’t married, and here I am, single too. But I want more than that for…” He let his voice trail off.
“I think your family was ahead of the curve. I read a study that predicted more people will just live together in the future, that getting married will be the oddity instead of the norm.” I nodded, because it sounded good to me.
He fingered the bottom of his cup. “Well, not for me. I want more.”
“Sure, down the road. In the meantime, there’s right now. There’s tonight.” I looked up at him, licking my throbbing lower lip.
He closed his eyes. “Been there, done that. One night can…” He sighed and looked at me. “I used to be all about hooking up, but that’s not me anymore. Sorry, Micki. More than you know. I really felt an instant connection with you. And then seeing you again at another wedding? A romantic would call it fate.”
I looked away. “The last guy I dated thought it was fate, too, when we met at the beach. But his fate was to cheat on me with three different women. So I moved home to Springfield to start over. And that meant changing my life goals—which no longer include a wedding. Or even a long term relationship.” I shrugged. “Self-preservation, you know?”
