Always a Bridesmaid

by Cindi Madsen

  “Violet? You okay?”

  Violet blinked, annoyed to find wetness clinging to her lashes. “Sorry. I’m so used to working in silence that I began mentally flipping through color schemes.”

  Skepticism flitted through the tight press of Maisy’s mouth, but she was nice enough not to call her a liar, liar, wedding plans on fire.

  “Does this mean my idea might work?” Maisy asked, a whole heap of hope in her voice.

  During art school, Violet had dabbled in several mediums. The theory was that taking on a low-pressure job would get her creative juices flowing.

  As the image of the renovated bakery took shape in Violet’s mind, the tingles she’d searched in vain for earlier flickered.

  “Stripes or large dots in cheery colors will go on that dividing wall.” A familiar buzz skated across her skin and kickstarted her pulse. It wasn’t as strong as when she used to peer through her camera lens, but it whispered that passion was still somewhere inside her. “We could also paint and re-cover the chairs to match.”

  “I trust you,” Maisy said, and a string tugged in the center of Violet’s chest.

  Maisy’s phone chimed. “Time to pick up Isla from day care. I used to be organized, but having her zapped my brain. I kept losing track of time, so I set an alarm. Occasionally I bring her back to finish up, and today is gonna be one of those days.”

  “Do you mind if I stay and brainstorm?” In addition to wanting to take advantage of the creative spark, Violet didn’t want to see people in town. Namely, her father and his wife. With everything else messing with her head today, she couldn’t handle an uncomfortable interaction with the rest of the Hursts.

  “Not at all.” Maisy slipped off her apron and tossed it on a nearby table. “But could you do me a favor? I poured batter for a couple batches of cupcakes but was waiting for the oven to preheat. Can you stick them in for me?”

  “Just stick them in?” A simple request, but Violet’s nerves stretched thin at the idea of anything involving baking. She’d told Maisy she would gladly assist with the selling and eating of goodies but not to expect help in the kitchen.

  “Yep. And set the timer for fifteen minutes.” Maisy swung open the door. “The place isn’t far, so I’ll be back soon.”

  Just put in the cupcakes and set a timer. Sounds simple enough.

  “Before I forget, are there almonds in any of the pastries? Not that I’m going to eat everything, but I also might eat everything, and I’d rather not go into anaphylactic shock when I do.”

  Maisy laughed. “Steer clear of the poppy seed muffins and the bear claws. You can see the slivered almonds on the top of those, though. Other than that, chow down.”

  Violet rounded the wall that separated the front of the bakery from the kitchen. She found two giant cupcake tins, the batter pink, cream, and brown. Suddenly she was craving Neapolitan ice cream.

  Heat blasted her face as she opened the enormous oven door. Wow. I bet this fancy equipment practically bakes the cupcakes itself.

  Her phone chimed and then rang as she put in the second tin. Violet fished the vibrating thing out of her pocket and, when it was the college roommate responsible for her first time as a bridesmaid, answered. “Hello?”

  “Oh, hon,” Leah said. “How you holding up?”

  Shit. Violet should’ve known better than to answer. All this conversation was going to do was remind her exactly what day it was. “I’m fine. I’m with my sister and—”

  “Your wedding would’ve been so much classier. The bride’s gown is totally making guests uncomfortable. Girl’s one movement away from a nip slip, and I’m about to passive aggressively play ‘Rock Your Body’ so we can relive Justin Timberlake ripping off Janet Jackson’s top and calling it a wardrobe malfunction. Amanda and I sent you pics through the group chat so you can see for yourself.”

  Violet shut the oven door with her hip and stared at the strange buttons and controls. And she’d thought the stove in her apartment was perplexing. She hit one, five, and searched for the timer button.

  “Benjamin made his choice, and honestly I hope they’re happy together.” The words scraped on the way out, leaving her throat achy and raw. Okay, so while she was trying to be the bigger person, she wasn’t quite there yet.

  “I give the marriage less than a year,” Leah said.

  “Six months,” Violet heard in the background, meaning Amanda was chiming in and they were seated next to each other.

  “Just promise me if the bastard comes crawling back to you, you won’t take him back.”

  The beep, beep sounded as Violet pushed more buttons. The digital readout didn’t begin counting down, so she tried a few more. “I won’t, I swear. Right now, I’m trying not to think about him or the wedding at all.”

  Or the fact that he popped the question at month two and got married within six months of meeting her.

  “I know, I know. We just thought it’d make you feel better to know that Crystal went the tacky route. You’re so much funnier and more down to earth…”

  AKA, plainer, with a witty personality that made up for the plainness.

  “But now I’m also thinking…” Leah shifted from gossip mode to weepy in two seconds flat, which meant she’d been enjoying the open bar. “It’s my fault for introducing you two in the first place. I wasn’t even going to come to this sham of a wedding on principle, but Ben is Casey’s best friend”—sniff—“just know that I know the jackass never deserved you. You’re going to find someone so much better.”

  Informing Leah she’d sworn off men would only make her cry more. Then she’d grab Amanda so they could FaceTime and lament how it was supposed to be Violet. Perhaps even suggest single friends, even though they’d been in the same group of friends forever and knew all the same people.

  Violet assured Leah she was fine and suggested she go enjoy dancing with her husband, who was a great guy regardless of his taste in friends.

  Since she wasn’t sure if she’d set the timer right, she noted the minutes on her phone, doing her best to ignore the group chat they’d titled “The Bridesmaid Crew.” Since her friends from college had busy lives and were active at different times, they’d created it to stay connected no matter what.

  Beads of sweat formed, the heat driving Violet toward the front of the bakery, where she snagged a frosted sugar cookie.

  As she perched herself on the edge of a table, she pressed her phone screen against the worn fabric of her yoga pants. It began to burn her thigh, urging her to flip her cell over and study the pictures of her ex’s wedding that she absolutely didn’t want to see.

  Why would she torture herself?

  As if someone else were in charge of her wrist, it twisted. Without permission, her thumb tapped on Leah’s message.

  Then there they were. Her ex-basically-fiancé and his blushing bride.

  I’d blush, too, if I were wearing that gown. The neckline of Crystal’s dress plunged halfway to her belly button. On a slender, small-breasted woman, it might look classy, but Crystal’s fake boobs were about to make their escape. The tapered waist showed off the fact that, unlike Violet, Crystal didn’t need to lose twenty pounds, and the skirt and train were detailed with—what else?—crystals.

  Maybe the gown was on the risqué side, but there was no denying how radiant the bride was.

  Leah had added a GIF of Heidi Klum making a face, the word wow along the bottom, and Amanda had added a yikes one that showed Britney Spears pulling the kind of face you did when you’d just seen something bad.

  With the torture already in full swing, Violet shoved the last of the cookie into her mouth and scrolled to the next picture—this one sent by Amanda.

  Violet’s heart ceased beating when she spotted the bride’s bouquet and the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses. The image blurred as her eyes filled with unshed tears.

 
; There were only so many colors, but purple? Seriously? Benjamin couldn’t tell Crystal, Whoa, hold on there, Violet’s favorite color is purple, and I’ve seen pictures in a dream wedding binder that are eerily similar to everything you’ve picked out?

  How dare they take that from me. My name freaking means purple!

  No longer fully in control of her body, Violet stormed out of the bakery. She yanked open the passenger door to her car and dug around for the stupid binder she never wanted to see again.

  Her bun snagged on one of the screws underneath the seat, prickling pain accompanying the tug that freed it. A mad sort of dizziness set in as she withdrew the binder.

  As if to spite her, it glittered in the last rays of daylight.

  Violet grabbed the lighter out of her glovebox and stormed into the alleyway beside the bakery.

  “Someday, my curvy ass!” Someday had been Benjamin’s favorite lie. The way he strung her along for an entire decade.

  We’ll get married after we graduate college.

  After I land this job.

  Once we have more money saved.

  I’m so stressed right now, babe. Let’s wait till after I get the promotion.

  Someday soon, but I really need a new car, and it’s the smarter investment.

  After every single wedding they attended together—most of which she’d been a part of—Benjamin would lovingly peer into her eyes and say, Babe, we’re next.

  Ten years she’d waited.

  Toward the end of Maisy’s reception, where she’d once again been a bridesmaid, Violet had gone in search of her boyfriend. She’d resolved to tell him it was high time they set a date and do the damn thing already.

  Only when she finally found him in an abandoned room of the reception hall, one of the female wedding guests had been straddling him, her skirt up around her waist and Benjamin’s tongue down her throat.

  “That asshole.” Violet chucked her wedding binder against the outside wall of the bakery. Satisfaction mixed with the anger coursing through her as she watched pages scatter across the dirty ground.

  She squatted and ripped out more pages, which wasn’t easy to do, since she’d slid everything into reinforced plastic sheet protectors. She shook loose the glossy magazine spreads with their beautiful tiered cakes and bridal dresses and bouquets, all in varying shades of purple.

  That should be enough kindling to set the rest on fire, she thought as she rolled her thumb over the lighter.

  A blue-and-orange flame flickered to life, and she couldn’t wait until it grew and decimated her former hopes and dreams.

  …

  “For the bridesmaid dresses, I’m thinking super-low-cut tops with short skirts,” Ford said as he flopped on his couch for the first wedding-planning meeting of what he’d been informed would be many. “Not short enough that I’ve gotta tuck my junk, but I want to show off the muscular thighs my firefighter training has given me.”

  Addie, one of his very best friends and the bride-to-be, giggled.

  Lexi blushed.

  The three German shepherd puppies that’d been delivered to him earlier this week ran amok.

  A lot of life-changing events had happened within his tight-knit group of friends last fall. His buddy Shep—Will Shepherd to most everyone else—had married Lexi, the blond debutante currently tilting her head at Ford. Then, in the middle of all the pre-wedding activities, two of his other closest friends had gone and fallen in love.

  At first, Ford had hated the idea of Tucker and Addie. But once he’d seen how hard Tucker worked to win over the girl beside him, how good they were together, and—most importantly—realized the group wasn’t going to be split by their merger, he got on board.

  Now they were soon to be hitched.

  When Murph, known as Addison Murphy to the rest of the town, had asked him to be her bridesdude/man of honor, of course he’d said yes. He’d do most anything for his friends.

  Lexi, one of the other bridesmaids—along with Addie’s sister, Alexandria, who was lucky enough to get out of wedding planning on account of living the next state over—withdrew a giant binder and a few thick magazines from her bag. She tossed them on his coffee table next to the dog toys and the remotes, where they starkly contrasted the pile of Alabama Outdoor News.

  “This should get us started,” she said, notebook and a pen at the ready.

  “Started?” Addie blinked at the stack. “Are we startin’ a fire? ’Cause that’s what that pile of nonsense makes me wanna do.”

  Lexi sighed and crossed one leg over another, the skirt of her red dress flaring with the motion.

  Like he said, he’d do anything for Murph, who’d always been one of the guys, but wedding planning tiptoed mighty close to the line. Her brown eyes were as wide as he assumed his were, though, and they’d sworn long ago to never leave a man behind.

  Since he was the best dude and Addie didn’t know the first thing about being a girly girl, Lexi was the only one experienced in everything a wedding entailed, so here they were.

  Staring at a color-coded binder.

  Addie reached for the six-pack of Naked Pig Pale Ale beer. After taking a large glug from her bottle, she hesitantly lifted the binder off the table.

  Give him a fire to fight, a lost hiker to find, or a destructive force of nature to contend with, and he’d jump right in, no fear. But wedding to-do lists filled with line upon line of gibberish? Well, he was about to cry for his mommy.

  Time to nut up. Unfortunately, he needed to put the puppies through search and rescue training after this meeting, so he’d be getting through it sober.

  Ford grabbed a non-alcoholic beer and cracked it open.

  Murph flipped to the section marked tables and blinked at the contents. “Um, I guess we’ll start with…table decorations?” She glanced at him, as if he had any idea what kind of decorations would go on tables. Wasn’t that what plates and food were for? Everything else just got in the way of eating.

  The leather of his couch creaked as he shifted closer and peered over Addie’s shoulder. “Sure. Those tablecloths look nice,” he said, gesturing to the rows of multicolored fabric.

  Lexi frowned. “Those aren’t for tables; they’re for the chairs.”

  “Chairs need tablecloths?” he asked, and Lexi sighed.

  Addie nudged him with her elbow. “Yeah, didn’t you know that, Ford? That way, instead of using the tablecloth as a napkin, you’ve got one on your chair, too.”

  “Smart.”

  They laughed. Lexi pursed her lips.

  Over the course of being one of Shep’s “groomsmen,” Addie had grown close to Lexi, but moments like this brought out how different they were. If it were up to Addie and Tucker, they’d keep the ceremony small. Around here, though, weddings were as much for family members and townsfolk as the couple, and it was easier to go with the flow than catch flack the rest of their lives.

  The puppies barked as they began play fighting, yelps and growls filling the air. Pyro, Ford’s trusty black German shepherd, lifted his head from his bed by the fireplace. While his dog was over the extra company already, Pyro couldn’t help but help. It was why he was the best rescue dog in all of Alabama.

  That and because Ford, who trained K-9 units for search and rescue missions, had trained Pyro himself, from the time he was a bouncy puppy.

  Lexi glanced at the dogs. “I’m not denying your new litter is ridiculously cute, but we can’t plan a wedding like this. They’re so noisy.”

  “Noisy” was a given in the beginning. “You’ll be amazed at how much better they are in a week or so.”

  Ford hadn’t named the puppies yet, but the biggest troublemaker lifted his leg and peed on Lexi’s high-heeled shoe.

  To her credit, she didn’t shriek or even scold the puppy. The arched eyebrow she shot Ford, on the other hand, made it cle
ar he was in the doghouse. “Can I please have an hors d’oeuvre to go with my odeur d’pee? Oh, that’s right. You didn’t make any.”

  To say Lexi was used to playing hostess was an understatement. Normally he’d let her have at it, but if he left the puppies alone too long, they’d destroy the house. “I brought out the tub of jerky and a six-pack of beer, didn’t I?”

  “I think we just picked out the wedding meal,” Addie said. “Jerky and beer for all.”

  “Hear, hear.” Ford tapped the end of his piece of jerky to Addie’s, and then they both took giant bites.

  Judging from the unamused expression on Lexi’s face, they were both in the doghouse now.

  “We’ll have the next meeting at your place,” he said in a placating tone.

  “I know it’s overwhelming, and I’m here to help.” Lexi leaned over the coffee table and flipped to the tab marked color scheme. “Once we pick your colors and pin down other major details, the rest will fall into place.”

  “All’s I care about is that it’s not crimson,” Addie said. “No offense,” she added because they’d given Shep shit about crimson being one of his wedding colors. “But I work for Auburn, and it’d be embarrassing to have the coaches at my wedding wonderin’ if I’m a traitor.”

  Ford lifted his can of beer. “War Eagle!”

  Lexi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not this again. As I’ve explained, I just like red. And while I realize I said ‘pick whatever you want,’ an orange wedding would be hideous. I doubt you want your bridesmaids to look like they recently broke out of prison.”

  “Considerin’ the guy next to me, it wouldn’t be a total shock,” Addie teased.

  Pyro lifted his head and barked, and Ford’s spine went stick straight. From the puppies, he wouldn’t think twice, but Pyro didn’t bark unless there was a reason.

  “What is it?”

  Pyro jumped out of his bed and barked again, his nose aimed toward the fireplace.

  “McGuire,” Addie said to him, plenty of scolding in that one word. “Didn’t we talk about turning off the scanner and being present? About how you’ve got to keep yourself from getting burned out?”