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I spin, trying to see what she’s talking about, but despite all my yoga classes, I can’t look at my own backside.
Violet’s not done.
She bends down, getting more up close and personal with my ass than most of my lovers have, and holds her hands up, a good two feet apart behind me. “This is the waist, and this is where your butt meets your thigh. Do you want your ass to look this big?”
Well, shit. I might not be able to see behind me, but the answer to that question is always no. “Fine. I guess I can get a suit there. If I even have time to sneak away to the beach.”
Nerves are kicking back in. This event is going to be huge, both in scale and in importance, and it’s way more serious than how my ass looks. The turn in my mood must show on my face because suddenly, my mimosa is shoved into my hand. When I don’t immediately drink, Violet lifts it for me.
“It’ll be fine, Abi. You know this. We know this. Claire Johnson knows this. It’s why she hired you, because she knows you can manage to bring your creative vision to life for her wedding.”
“Mmmhmm.” I nod robotically.
Courtney comes to my other side, boxing me in. “Tell me about the flowers. What flowers are you using?”
One friend for pep talks, one sister for logic, and one friend to refill my glass. “Thanks, Archie,” I say, lifting it myself this time for a long swallow. “Claire wants local flowers for some of the events, but I have some special ones too, like the roses for the ceremony. I’ve confirmed their arrival dates this week so they’ll be fresh, and Janey and I packed and shipped vases, floral foam, wire, and everything else we’ll need weeks ago. The resort team already confirmed that they have those.”
Courtney dips her chin, a knowing smile curling her lips. We might be very different—her the fierce boardroom bitch and me the wild child free spirit, but we are both Andrewses. Taking care of business is in our blood, and by making me list out what I’ve already handled, she knows I’ll find some peace.
I smile back at my cheerleaders. “I’m ready.”
And I am. I can handle whatever comes my way this week because I’m ready to tackle this event and make it my bitch.
“Okay, I hate to break up the party, but I need to get home. Ross and Carly need me,” Violet says wistfully. The truth is, she’s jonesing for some baby snuggles of her own because Ross is likely doing just fine, probably airplane-flying my niece around their penthouse home or watching the business news to teach her all about economics. He’s an amazing dad, much to everyone’s surprise. Not that we thought my brother would be a bad dad, exactly, but he’s matured so much and has truly become what we always hoped he would be—a great husband, a devoted father, and a role model of a man.
Violet’s exit starts everyone toward the door, and after hugs and promises to not behave to a gleaming-eyed, bad influence Archie, I find myself alone in my apartment.
I pick my tablet up from the bed where Archie left it and begin my own process of checking my lists. Santa might check his twice, but I go for a solid four rounds, item by item, list by list, until I’m sure that I’m truly ready. I water my plants, telling them that Mama will be away for a few days but Aunt Courtney will come by to take care of them, and then lie down as the sun sets, setting my alarm so that I’ll have time to get to the airport for my five a.m. flight.The entirety of Aruba spreads out below us as our plane begins to descend and my breath is taken away. It’s so incredibly beautiful. Clear pristine waters rush forward to meet the sandy white beach that rings the entire island, and the water visually fades out to a line where it becomes deep azure blue skies.
It’s postcard perfect, and I can definitely see why Claire chose this place to have her wedding.
The plane rattles violently as it descends, hitting a patch of turbulence. Janey, who was until that moment peacefully snoring next to me, nearly jumps out of her seat in alarm.
“I didn’t do it, your honor, I swear—” Janey half yells, causing heads to turn, then catches herself as she realizes she just woke up. Playing it off, she pats her hair and stretches, letting out a loud yawn and saying, “Oof, glad that was a dream. But just in case, if anyone asks, I was with you the whole week.”
I wonder exactly what she dreamed about doing. With Janey, there’s no telling. She’s a solid worker but whole-heartedly subscribes to the work hard-play hard mentality, and we’re going to a place designed for play. Hopefully, she’ll take the dream of having to explain herself to a judge as a warning sign and behave herself.
