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Lance gestured at the “vision” board June had created. “You can do this by June 29th?”
“Absolutely.” Her white smile flashing a grin.
Chantelle’s skin prickled. “You didn’t mention the gala theme?”
“What?” June asked, raising a thin eyebrow.
Chantelle cleared her throat. “Well… Lance proposed to Andrea at a gala function. Wouldn’t that be more appropriate than a Parisian theme wedding? It’s gorgeous what you’ve come up with, but wouldn’t that mean more to the bride and groom? More personal?”
June’s nostrils flared. “Who are you again?”
“A friend of mine,” Lance said. “I’d appreciate it if you take her advice into consideration.”
June folded her manicured hands together. “My apologies, but I have strict orders from your mother. You and your bride to be are honeymooning in Paris, so I assumed that—”
“That decision isn’t final.” Lance interrupted. “Since I’m part of this wedding planning, I want a gala themed wedding. If either my mother or fiancé have a problem with it, they can call me.”
Chantelle hid her smile as best she could. Lance taking charge made her heart skip. She stared down at her hands, berating herself for responding that way. Yet, he had been so sweet over the phone. He wanted her to know his apology was sincere. Perhaps the old Lance was still inside the grown man sitting next to her.
“Very well,” June said. “I’ll make the changes.”
“Thank you.” Lance turned to face the table displaying the china June picked out for the reception. “Leave out the gold.”
“But that’s one of the primary colors?” Her eyes bugged as if he told her the sky was green.
“I don’t want it. I have to eat off of it, and I would prefer simple place settings and silverware. In fact, I’m thinking of a more home cooked meal for the reception.”
June pressed her hand against her forehead. “Please tell me you’re joking, Mr. Taylor. This is an elegant wedding.”
He shrugged. “Well, instead of filet mignon, what about smothered steaks in brown gravy? For those that prefer fish, they can have the smoked salmon.”
June further pressed a hand to her stomach. “Are you sure?”
“You heard the man.” Chantelle’s lips quirked into a smile.
“I’ll-I-would you both excuse me, please.” June scurried out the door.
As soon as they were alone, both Chantelle and Lance burst into laughter. Did he say smothered steaks? Chantelle covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggles.
“Did you see her face?”
Lance chuckled. “I thought she would pass out.”
Chantelle threw her head back. “I can’t wait to see your mother’s face. That will be the kicker.”
He turned in his seat to face her. “I’ll compromise on the steaks, although it sounds good.”
Chantelle bobbed her head. “I love when my mother makes them.”
He gave half a smile. “Thanks for coming. I know I’ve been difficult.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t request another reporter for the story.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that, Chantelle.”
Her heart melted inside. Her fingers tingled to touch his hand, but she held back. Instead, she
cleared her throat. “Thank you, Lance. I appreciate that.”
