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“Um…samples for tablecloths.” Riley winced as he said it.
“Tablecloths should be either black or white linen. This is just adding decisions where none need to be made.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Jenna white linen, gift cards for guests, and wildflowers for the tables.”
Marc nodded. “Yes, you will.”
The pizza arrived. Riley got beers for them and pushed aside the wedding paraphernalia that had collected on the table.
When they’d each polished off one of the enormous slices, Marc picked up the packet of paper samples for invitations. “Did you actually go through all these?”
Riley sighed. “No. I’m supposed to, but most of them are so similar. How do I pick?”
Marc shook his head. “You’ve got to rein this in. I know how much shit you’ve got to wade through to get the bakery going, even with Susan doing a lot of the meetings with the designer. You don’t need to be dealing with all this too.”
Marc was right. “I think I’ve gotten carried away.”
“Damn right you have. Is there anything critical for you to decide right now?”
Riley stared at all the shit on the table, and his mind went blank. “Um…”
“Did the planner give you a timetable of what needs to happen when?”
“She tried to convince me to have the wedding in the spring so we had more time.”
“That’s bullshit. You want a Christmas wedding, and that’s what you’re having. Now, what needs to happen first?”
Riley flipped through a packet Jenna had given him when they’d first met.
“What was Kathryn thinking when she recommended her?”
“She planned weddings for several of Kathryn’s friends.”
“Kathryn’s friends may be quite lovely, but I doubt they had the kind of wedding you want.”
Riley thought about Kathryn, who did such a very good job posing as a society wife when she needed to, but who was tough, funny, foulmouthed, and not at all what you’d expect from a woman who wore pearls and pastel suits.
Finally he found the page Jenna had given him where she’d listed the primary categories and the time frame of each. “We should choose a photographer and a caterer. I think those are the time-critical things.”
“Surely between us and our friends we know a photographer, someone we already trust,” Marc said.
“I’ll ask Kathryn and Susan.”
“And I’ll check with Darius and…wait. Remember Tony? Didn’t he leave Sheila’s service when his photography business took off?”
“Yeah, he did. We should look him up.”
“I’m sure Jenna will be thrilled with you going rogue and choosing your own photographer.”
Riley laughed. “Yeah, she will.”
“If Susan makes pastries, then what else do you want? A full dinner or…”
Riley shook his head. “I don’t want people trapped at tables. I’d rather have a buffet or hors d’oeuvres.”
“Okay. I bet Susan knows—”
“She does.”
“Then ask her, and we’ll have it settled.”
“You make this all sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy. And I know there are other things you really do have to arrange, but all this extra nonsense… Just pick something classic and go with it. Simple is best.”
“Says the man who owns a pink feather boa and a sweater that sheds glitter.”
“Hush. We’re talking weddings, not my wardrobe.”
Riley cleared his throat. “Right.”
“I’ll contact Tony. You talk to Susan. This will work out.”
Riley should have felt a lot better, but he didn’t. He felt off, unsettled. Was it just nerves?
Marc had started on another piece of pizza.
“Do you need to go back to your place tonight?” Riley asked.
“Not if you want company,” he said between bites.
“I do. You know how I am.”
“Lonely without your man.”
Riley frowned. “That sounds so sad.”
“It is, baby, but I’ll take care of you.”
Riley punched his arm. “Shut the fuck up. What should we do?”
“Watch a sad movie? I could do with a good cry, and I think you could too.”
Riley frowned. “You want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
Riley raised a brow.
“I’m fine. Sometimes I’m just in the mood for sad.”
“Marc, you suck at lying to me.”
“Can we just watch without you analyzing me?”
Riley sighed. “Fine. What movie?”
“Beaches?”
“Wow. You do need a cry.”
Marc nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ll clean up. Go see if it’s on Netflix or Amazon.”
Marc settled on the couch while Riley cleared their plates and poured them each a glass of one of Thorne’s top-shelf bourbons. By the end of the movie, they’d put a serious dent in the bottle. They were both crying and laughing simultaneously while clinging to each other.
Riley wiped his cheeks and turned the TV off. “I really did need that.”
“Yeah.” Marc tried to stand and ended up right back on the couch.
“Stay there. I’ll bring you a pillow and a blanket.”
“Okay. Thanks, and thanks for…”
Riley had a good buzz, but Marc was really drunk. “For what?”
“For just being you.”
“You’re welcome.” Riley waited, sure he was going to say more.
“Darius and I fucked the day I started working for him.”
“Oh shit.” Riley forgot about the blanket and sat back down.
