Page 22 of Love Me Not
The five of us exchanged a confused glance before Miriam said, “If you have a plate ready, I’ll take them over.”
Josie checked the fridge and, sure enough, there was another platter ready to go.
As the head librarian walked away, Donna said, “Maybe we should cut Megan off.”
“Already done.” Josie grabbed a bottle behind her and held it up. “She’s now drinking orange juice and sparkling water.”
That was one way to do it. “Smart move.”
Becca pushed away from the counter. “We need to go sit down before I eat this entire bowl of nuts.”
“You can have the nuts.” I plopped a cupcake onto a small paper plate. “I’m going for the sweets.”
Eying my treat, Becca gave up the fight. “One of those couldn’t hurt, right?”
Donna picked up the entire plate. “There are no calories in anything eaten on a celebration weekend.” She headed for the couch and the rest of us followed as if she was the pied piper of buttercream.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Becca mumbled.
“It’s absolutely true,” Josie said, backing Donna’s preposterous declaration. “And either way, we’ll dance it all off at the reception.”
She was grossly overestimating the amount of dancing I planned to do, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t keep eating cupcakes.
One hour, two cupcakes, and six canapes later, Megan sobered up. She also came back to the reality of her looming wedding. Thankfully, she had two friends who’d either been through the process numerous times before—that being Becca the wedding planner and Donna the wedding photographer.
Josie and I weren’t much help other than holding her hand and offering more canapes.
The night ended early, helped along by some melatonin gummies for Megan, and the exhaustion of a long week for the rest of us. This was Becca’s first time spending the night away from Noah, which had her attempting to bolt for the door no fewer than three times.
He was spending the night with her mom, who was in baby heaven, and after the third call Kathy Witherspoon ordered her daughter to put her phone away and go to bed.
Properly scolded, she crawled into her pallet next to mine and we all floated into oblivion around midnight. I could only assume the bachelor party did not end as early, but as far as we knew, the guys spent their evening playing darts and pool in Ryan’s father’s basement, so not a wild night on the town for them either.
Last minute errands were run on Friday, with each of us given a list of tasks to complete. I’d teamed up with Donna and we knocked our list out early enough to relax before rehearsal and the dinner that followed.
The gathering was small with the wedding party and immediate family in attendance. Becca had been assigned to Megan, as she was the most skilled at calming a bride-to-be, and she’d sent out a message saying we needed to keep the evening as subdued as possible so as not to spook her client.
Apparently, there was some leftover trauma from Megan’s previous relationship bubbling to the surface. The guy she dated before Ryan had called things off after three years with the heartless announcement that he’d never loved her.
That type of wound went deep, and in this case at least, had waited until Megan was on the cusp of making a lifelong commitment to start poking at her brain with thoughts like How do you know he really loves you? and None of this is real.
Despite the bride and groom’s agreement to stay apart as much as possible until the start of the ceremony, Becca called an audible and suggested Ryan take his future wife out for dessert and a reassuring chat before delivering her to Hickamore House for the night.
Whatever he said worked, because Megan was back to her blissed out bouncy bride self when we got her back.
As expected, the day of the wedding was beyond hectic. Between us all getting our hair and makeup done, to getting dressed, to getting the bride dressed while Becca attempted to keep in touch with Amanda, who was boots on the ground outside, my decision to never put myself through this was once again solidified.
I would be a bridesmaid for any of my girls whenever they asked. Heck, I’d already been a bridesmaid for all of my siblings, so I had this job down. But taking on the main character role? Nope. Not interested.
“Oh my gosh, Lindsey,” Becca said, rushing toward me. “I need you to run down and steal some flowers off the trellis.”
I was game for playing my part and helping out wherever necessary, but botanical theft didn’t feel like a reasonable request. “Why would I steal flowers off the trellis?”
“Because Megan has convinced herself that the flowers in her bouquet don’t match the ones in the trellis and is insisting that she can’t possibly stand up there in front of everyone she knows with clashing flowers.”
So reasonable was out the window. Fair enough.
“Is there a certain flower I’m looking for?” I had yet to set eyes on the bouquet.