by Kasie West
“Hey, Soph, where can I plug this in?” Kyle stood on a makeshift stage, holding the cord to his amp. Janet was Kyle’s cousin, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that he and his band were playing tonight. But his music was not wedding material at all.
I pointed. “There’s a power strip behind Bryce’s drums there.”
“Cool, thanks.” Kyle exuded rocker tonight in a pair of dark jeans and a white collared shirt with a thin black tie. His blond hair was getting longer and looked a bit greasy hanging in his eyes. He plugged in his amp and then did a few test chords on his guitar, tuning it as he did.
I wasn’t sure why I was lingering. Kyle and I had gone nowhere fast lately. We hadn’t moved forward but we hadn’t moved back, and it seemed like neither of us was willing to change that. “Do you have everything you need?” I asked.
He pushed his hair off his forehead. “Yeah, I think so.”
Bryce jumped up on the stage, slapping Kyle on the back. He held up his phone. “Tell me this isn’t the playlist.”
“We talked about this,” Kyle said. “It’s a wedding.”
“Did Janet give you this list? Do you have no dignity?”
“Do you want to sing about leaving the girl and living alone at a wedding?”
“Yes, yes I do,” Bryce said, moving over to his stool and adjusting its height.
“Me too,” Kyle said. “But it’s not happening.”
“Probably a good call,” I said.
Jodi and Lincoln came to join their bandmates on the stage, and I said hi to them. Just then, Micah, carrying a tray of salt shakers, and Lance, carrying a tray of pepper mills, walked past us.
Micah paused next to me while Lance continued walking. “What’s so interesting over here?” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, seeming to answer her own question.
“The cover songs that have to be played tonight,” I said.
“I love covers.”
Bryce curled his lip at her. “Take your blasphemous tongue away from me.”
“I’m going to make a couple requests tonight,” I said. “Maybe some Céline Dion, some Journey.”
Bryce hissed. Kyle smirked my way and I smiled back.
“So adorable,” Micah whispered. She was wrong. The weird standstill Kyle and I shared was not adorable.
“I need my other half!” Lance yelled from a table across the reception area. He held up a pepper mill.
“Where is he on your spreadsheet?” I asked. I knew the answer to that question. Micah and Lance had dated freshman year and had both decided to move on. She probably had a big red X through Lance’s name, even though I felt like they had both changed since then. But Micah was Micah; once she’d made up her mind and moved on, that was that.
“Funny,” Micah said, then left to join Lance.
I needed to go too. I had boutonnieres to pin before the ceremony started. “Good luck, guys,” I told Kyle and the band.
“We’re not taking requests tonight,” Bryce called out after me. I laughed.
I walked around the outside of the Stanton Estate and toward the gravel parking lot where the flower van waited. I collected the box with the boutonnieres and turned to head back when I saw someone standing by a black car. He was facing away from me, talking on his phone, but I could tell who he was by his posture alone. My gaze drifted to Andrew’s tuxedo and right away I knew we had a problem.
I marched up to Andrew and tapped his shoulder.
He turned, saw me, and held up his finger. He gave a few affirmative hums into the phone. There was a tense set to his jaw that I had never seen before. “Okay,” he said. “Talk to you later.” Then he hung up and stared at me expectantly.
Every curious bone in my body wanted to ask him who he’d been talking to, who had turned his normal smug expression serious, but I resisted. “What are you wearing?” I asked.
“Hi to you too.”
I hadn’t seen him since Mother’s Day. On purpose. He and Micah had invited me along to an in-depth tour of our tiny town a couple of weeks ago, and I had politely (probably not politely) declined. Micah had been serious when she told him that he now had a friend, and she was always good at following through on her declarations.
“Andrew, you can’t wear that,” I said.
He held his hands out to the sides. “It’s a tux. Have you seen one before? You wear them to events like weddings and galas and fund-raisers.” His tux was beyond fancy: obviously designer and tailored to fit him perfectly.
“Have you met the groom?” I said. “He’s from a middle-class working family. His dad is a construction worker and his mom is a schoolteacher. Are you trying to upstage him? He probably rented his tux in the next town over at the local mall. It would not surprise me if some guests come in jeans.” I paused for a breath. “And you’re not even a guest!”
Andrew looked down at his shoes, which I hadn’t noticed before but were black and white and, if possible, even nicer than his tux. “Oh.”
“I thought you said you’d spent time in a small town before this,” I hissed. Then I took his arm and dragged him into the house and down the hall to a room that wasn’t being used. I pulled us both inside, set the box of boutonnieres on an end table, and crossed my arms.
“You need to change,” I said.
“What?”
“Your clothes. You need to change.”
He raised his eyebrows and unbuttoned the top button of his jacket. “Like right now?”
“What? No!” I hated that my face got hot. “Just … wait. You can’t go out there in that tux.”
“I think you’re overreacting. Not that I’m surprised.”
“I promise you I’m not.”
He pointed to the window. “You’re worried about what I’m wearing when you should be worried about the rain.”
“Shh. Do not say that anywhere in the vicinity of the bride.”
He took in the room. “Is she in here somewhere?”
“I’m going to go and do some reconnaissance. See what the other guys in the wedding party are wearing. I’ll come back and let you know if you will feel like the biggest jerk if you keep that on … or only the second biggest.”
He sat on the arm of an overstuffed chair like he had all the time in the world. “Can’t wait to hear your report.”
“Are those cuff links?” I asked. “For the love of all that is holy …” I muttered as I picked up the box of flowers and let myself out of the room.
Down the hall, I reached the door that had been labeled Groom. I knocked. “Flower delivery.”
The door squeaked open and Mr. Johnson Sr. smiled at me. “Sophie Evans. Good to see you.”
“I have some pinning to do.”
He opened the door wider and I stepped inside.
“Son, come give this lovely lady your lapel to pin.”
The groom, Chad Johnson, stepped away from the window and turned to face me. He was glowing with happiness. “You think it’s fixin’ to rain, Sophie?”
“I don’t,” I said, praying I was right.
Chad stepped up to me. He looked nice in a basic black tux with a starched white shirt. But of course his tux was nowhere near as nice as Andrew’s. I pinned the rose onto his lapel and did the same for his father, who wore a simple black suit and red tie.
“Where are all the groomsmen?” I asked casually.
“I imagine they’re scattered about,” Chad said, straightening his bow tie.
“Okay, I guess I have my work cut out for me.” I turned to go. “And Chad, congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Chad said with a grin. “I’m a lucky guy.”
It took me longer than I’d hoped to find the four groomsmen—some were in the garden, taking selfies—but their basic suits confirmed what I already knew was true: Andrew was going to outshine the entire wedding party.
I quickly ran back inside, but instead of going to Andrew’s room, I went to the kitchen. “Micah, can I speak to you?” I asked my best f
riend when I found her.
She turned to me. “What’s up?”
“Does your dad still keep extra cater waiter pants and jackets in his trunk?”
“I think he has a few. Why?”
“Because golden boy wore an Armani today.”
“He did not!” she said. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who was appalled by this. “An Armani?”
“Well, I don’t know which designer exactly. But definitely a designer.”
“I’ll get you the keys.”
There was no way Mr. Williams was going to have Andrew’s exact size, but I hoped for something close. In the catering van, I dug through the box of uniforms, found my best guess, and went back to the room.
Andrew had actually waited for me. He was still in his tux, looking at pictures on his phone. I thrust the cater waiter jacket and pants out to him. “The ceremony starts in less than thirty minutes. You don’t have time to go home and change. So here is my solution.”
He held up the jacket like it had committed a crime. “What is your solution?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Oh, you want me to wear this?” He laughed.
“At the very least, lose your jacket and tie, roll up your sleeves, and call it a day.” I gave him a tight smile and left to go make sure all the flowers had been tied to the chairs along the aisle.
The sky looked ominous. Dark clouds hung overhead like they were dying to ruin the day. I made my way to the ceremony area, where most of the seats were full, and adjusted a few flowers along the aisle that had jostled loose when guests had sat down. There was the low buzz of chattering all around. I heard the word rain several times.
A little girl of about six or seven with a basketful of rose petals came running up to me. “Flower lady, how do I drop these?” She held up the basket.
I looked around for potential parents but didn’t see anyone concerned that the flower girl was missing from her post. I smiled and led her back toward the house. “You come out right before the bride, and you just take a few petals at a time and drop them on that white aisle back there.”
“That’s what my mom said too, but I wanted to check.”
We made it to the back porch and she took off into the house, leaving me behind.
I was about to head to the reception area when I saw Chad walk out the door and straight toward the pergola. The first thing I noticed was that his boutonniere was crooked. The second thing I noticed was that he was wearing Andrew’s tux and he looked amazing. I couldn’t believe the suit fit him. I couldn’t believe any of it.
Chad swept past me, then walked down the aisle to stand under the rose-draped arch. It took me another second to shake off my shock and rush over to him.
“Let me fix your flower,” I whispered. “It’s crooked.”
“Thanks.”
“You changed,” I said, unpinning the rose.
“Yeah, Jett Hart’s kid delivered this up to my room. He said it was a gift.” He tugged on the bottom of the jacket. “I had no idea Jett was so generous. The tag said Burberry. I’ve never heard of this Burberry guy before but he makes a good suit.”
I straightened the flower and pinned it in place. “Yes, it’s amazing.” I gave his arm a pat then snuck off to the side and around the guests. I went back into the house and the room where I’d left Andrew, but he wasn’t there. Wherever he was, he was either wearing Chad’s rented tux or the cater waiter attire I’d brought him.
I really didn’t have time to keep looking. The ceremony was about to start, and while Chad and Janet were getting married, I had to put finishing touches on the reception area.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, I was told. And more importantly, without rain.
The guests were now filing to the tables as the sun crept lower in the sky. Fairy lights were strung up between the poles that had been installed for that very purpose, and despite the muggy heat, it looked magical. I, on the other hand, did not feel magical. My hair was sticking to my face, and sweat made my shirt cling to my back.
I lit the last citronella candle (our attempt to repel any and all winged critters) and plucked a dangling petal from a rose.
“Finally, a client with taste,” a voice next to me said. “These are centerpieces.”
“You like roses. How original.” I turned to face Andrew. He had obviously gone home, because he was wearing neither the rented tux nor the cater waiter outfit. Instead, he was in a tailored navy-blue suit that was less showy than the Burberry but still expensive.
“I figured if I wanted to look nice, I needed to make the groom look nicer,” he said, obviously noticing my gaze.
“And here I thought you’d done it out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I did it out of the goodness of your heart, right?”
I bit back an angry response and instead said, “I guess taking pictures isn’t the most important thing at events. The way you look is?”
“There is zero food at a wedding ceremony. I come for the reception.” He raised his phone and took a picture of Micah, who had just come out with the appetizer course.
“That better not go on the website,” she said as she passed us.
“It’s going front and center,” Andrew said back, and she shot him narrowed eyes over her shoulder.
Their friendly relationship seemed to be extra annoying tonight. I blamed the heat. I pushed a lock of my damp hair off my cheek just as the sky lit up with a crack of lighting.
“Am I allowed to say that it looks like it’s going to rain now?” Andrew whispered.
“Andrew, you are allowed to do whatever you want,” I said, then whirled around and headed for the house. I needed the air-conditioning, at least for a moment.
When I’d seen Chad in that tux, I thought I owed Andrew an apology, or at least a thank-you. I had offered him neither because, like always, his personality got in the way.
I found the closest AC vent and stood under it, pulling my shirt away from my skin and aggressively flapping it. I had been standing like that for some time when I figured I’d better check on things.
I headed back down the hall. Lance nearly knocked me over with a trayful of food on his way out.
“Sorry,” I said, knowing about the huge blind spot a full food tray created.
“No worries,” he said, and kept walking.
Micah came in as Lance went out, and when she saw me, standing flat against the wall, she said, “Um … what are you doing?”
“Staying out of the way.”
She smiled. “Good strategy.” Then she said, “Close your eyes.”
“Um … what?”
“Do you trust me?”
And of course I did, so I closed my eyes.
“Now open your mouth.”
I opened my mouth and she stuck some sort of food inside. I chewed it hesitantly at first, but as my entire mouth watered with the savory taste, I opened my eyes. “Was that shrimp?”
“Yes, the shrimp appetizer. Amazing, right?”
“So good,” I said. Then my eyes drifted to the tray of dirty dishes. “Wait, was that from one of those plates?”
“What?” she asked innocently. “I couldn’t let an excellent piece of shrimp go to waste.”
I elbowed her with a laugh. “I’m never trusting you again.”
She considered this. “So you wouldn’t have eaten it if you’d seen it on a used plate?”
“Fine, I probably would’ve if you’d told me it was good.”
“Exactly. I know you.” She nodded over her shoulder. “I better get to the next course.”
I went back outside, where I immediately couldn’t breathe again. One reason was the air; the other was my mother. She was standing next to a full table talking to one of the ladies sitting there. My mom wore a skin-tight, short purple dress that I had never seen before in my life.
I made my way to her. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, there you are. I have no idea where I’m supposed to sit.”
>
“Over here.” There weren’t assigned seats so I took her by the arm and led her to a table in the corner that had open spots.
“Also, my invitation said plus one, but I didn’t know if that meant Gunnar, so I left him in the car.”
“You left Gunnar in the car?”
“The windows are rolled down and it’s unlocked. He’s ten, Soph, why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just surprised. You didn’t mention bringing him … or coming at all. I thought you had to work.”
Mom shrugged. “I got done early. I see other kids here. Go tell Gunnar it’s fine.”
She was right, there were other kids at the wedding, but they were related to the bride or groom. “I’ll go talk to him.”
I walked to the gravel parking area and found Mom’s car. Gunnar sat in the passenger seat, his feet on the dash, playing a game on his iPad. His jeans were dirty but he wore a clean green polo shirt and his hair was combed.
I leaned my arms on the open window. “Hey, kid. What are you doing?”
“Playing motocross.”
“Are you winning?”
“I keep getting flipped.”
“Did you want to come in and watch people eat and dance, or do you want to stay out here and play your game? I can bring you food.”
“You’ll bring me food?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want to stay out here.”
“Probably a good choice. I’ll be right back.”
I returned to the reception area and found Micah on her way back inside the house. “My brother is in the car. Think you can steal me a plate of food for him?”
“You know he can come in,” Micah said. She looked around and gestured at the flower girl racing across the grass. “There are tons of kids here. This is a country wedding, Soph.”
“I know. But Caroline had that talk with me, and I’m just trying to show her that I’m professional.”
“Yes, I’ll sneak you some food. Give me a sec.”
“Is this the secret meeting for party workers?” Andrew asked, joining us.
“I’m sorry, are you working this event?” I said. “Or do you own the place?”
