Page 45 of The Wedding Favor

Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes

The next morning was Sunday. I woke up a little before seven to mow the lawn and take care of all my other adulting duties—laundry, cleaning my room, reviewing my weekly budget, grocery shopping with Mom, and so on and so on. The goal was to finish as quickly as possible so I could binge watch movies while eating Nutella by the spoonful.

But before I could even get outside, I received a text.

Aidan: Got you a present.

ME: My birthday was two weeks ago.

Aidan: I mailed it to you. Should get there soon.

ME: No hints?

Aidan: You’ll find out in due TIME.

ME: Is that a clue?

Aidan: You’ll have to wait and see.

“Yeah, we will see.” I tucked my phone in my back pocket.

After getting the lawnmower out and putting my earbuds in, I got to work. It was best to do this job before the sun had too much time to turn the air into the inside of an Easy Bake Oven.

This gift from Aidan could be anything, but I didn’t have high hopes.

Aidan was many things—smart, polite, logical, responsible—and a horrible gift giver. One Christmas when we were dating, he’d given me a year’s supply of shampoo and conditioner. Not the shampoo and conditioner I was deeply devoted to despite its price. Oh, no. He’d used his recently obtained Costco card to purchase gallon-sized bottles. “Do you know how cheap this is per ounce?” he’d said in excitement.

For birthdays, anniversaries, and apologies, it was always a dozen pink roses. The funny thing was he never asked me what my favorite flower was. After a few bouquets of pink roses a year, they started to lose their charm. They began to feel like the opposite of what he intended. He wasn’t really thinking about me; he was going through the motions, doing the “right thing.”

People loved that about Aidan, though. He was such a “nice, young man,” he had a “good head on his shoulders,” and a “bright future ahead of him.” He was smart, polite, ate all his vegetables, flossed daily, did the New York Times crossword every weekend and he never cheated. (I used to sit next to him and do a word find, except I totally cheated.) Being his girlfriend was almost a badge of honor. Me, the kid of a felon, somehow managed to get the good guy to fall in love with me.

I was putting the mower away when my phone rang. It was only eight in the morning. Who would call this early on a Sunday?

Answer: Missy. Again.

“Hi, Iris,” she said in her high-pitched, sugar-sweet voice. “How are you? I’m so glad we could go shopping yesterday.”

“I’m… great.” I trudged inside and straight to the coffeemaker. It felt like I was going to need a cup or ten for this conversation.

“I wanted to call you and get you up to speed on wedding stuff.”

“Great.” How much more did I need to know? Lunch yesterday had been nothing but wedding talk. I opened the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out my stash of leftover Christmas candy. I plucked out a foil-wrapped Santa. Along with the coffee, I was going to need chocolate.

“Now, don’t worry about taking notes. Everything will be sent to you by email, but I wanted to go over a few things.”

“Great,” I said. Again. Missy didn’t seem to notice.

“First, the wedding colors are cherry blossom pink and Parisian pink.”

I bit off Santa’s head. “Great.”

“It’s going to look beautiful.” Then she giggled. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose at the sound.

Poor old Santa lost his feet. Thank you for your sacrifice, St. Nick. “Sounds… great.”

“I’m so glad you said that. All the members of the wedding party have agreed to help with decorating on the day of the wedding.”

“Great.”