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“Where would you like to have our wedding at this point, Augie? I’m open to suggestions… It’s a beautiful space, and it’s free…well, you have had multiple opportunities to see where I work when you’ve come to spend the weekend with me, and you didn’t care to, so that’s on you… Listen, my boss is here, so if you have questions, I’m sure he can answer them.”
Cherise looks up at me, smacking herself on the forehead. Presumably, she wishes she hadn’t offered me up like that, but of course, I’m okay with it. I want nothing more than to get on the phone with this mess of a human on the other end.
I hold out my hand and gesture for her to hand me the phone.
Instead, she holds up one of her earbuds. “Do you mind? Too gross?” She wipes the bud on the front of her jacket and hands it to me. I take the earpiece from her, and our hands linger for just one second during the handoff. My fingertip brushes against the first knuckle of her flour-covered index finger. Our eyes meet, and I watch as she nervously sucks in her bottom lip. Mine, I think. I want that bottom lip to bite. Not her, and definitely not this tool on the phone.
I clear my throat. “Ms. Williams’ fiancé, I presume? This is Bishop Frye. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about the hotel and accommodations.”
The man’s voice on the other end splutters out a list of questions, all of which I can answer in my sleep. The rote replies are fine with me; it lets me concentrate on the face in front of me. Those blue eyes are level with my collarbone, and they’re studying me carefully. She gives me a careful smile when her teeth let go of her lip—a closed-mouth smile. Eyes full of regret that I have to speak to this man. I reach out my hand to squeeze her shoulder, to assure her it’s fine. I’m fine. But I stop myself, my hand in midair. I can’t touch an employee. What am I thinking? To save face, I turn my hand and give her a dorky thumbs-up gesture and nod as I say, “Of course. All accommodations are comped; just forward your guest list to our wedding coordinator.”
Augie replies, “My mother and I still would like to see this place. Just between you and me, the Williamses are good people, but they’re too indulgent of their five daughters. A Vegas wedding is not the kind of thing our people do.”
That is quite a statement to unpack while Cherise is staring at me with those big, heart-melting eyes. Not to mention those sweet dimples that I want to kiss. First, what an odd, patrician thing to comment on. Cherise is a grown woman; why would her parents’ indulgence or lack thereof matter at this point? Second, why would he not want to see where she works when he’d visited her previously? If I was engaged to this sublime, accomplished human being, I would demand to know everything about her passions. Also, a family of five sisters? My god. And finally, what the fuck does he mean by our people? I settle on addressing the most crucial aspect here, with all the diplomacy I can muster, and I can’t
muster a whole hell of a lot for this guy. “Cherise is an outstanding woman with exquisite taste, and I can assure you that her wedding at Orchid will blow everyone else’s out of the water.”
I’m perhaps selling her wonderfulness too hard. To her own fiancé, no less. Well done, dummy.
Augie makes a weird huffing sound. “You mean our wedding. Mine and Cherise’s wedding.”
He still sounds skeptical, so the next thing out of my mouth is automatic. I don’t think it through. “Of course, if you want to visit the venue beforehand, I’ll pay for the trip.”
Cherise’s eyes go wide. In fear or in surprise, I can’t tell. Maybe both. She shakes her head, likely protesting my continued offer of free accommodations.
But it’s too late now. Augie accepts the offer. Before I can hand the phone back to Cherise—assuming he wants to say goodbye to his bride— he’s hung up.
What a strange fellow.
The look on her face is unreadable. “I’m sorry he hung up.”
She smiles shyly as I move to hand her earbud back to her. To my surprise, she rolls up the wires and stuffs them into a pocket. “No more phone calls today. My mood can’t take it. Thank you so much, Mr. Frye. It’s above and beyond. Like, beyond, beyond, what you’re doing for us.”
I blink at her, wishing I could give her a smile that she deserves, but I can’t fake it. I’m unhappy that anyone is giving her grief. “Please, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Call me Bishop.” I walk to the work surface and reach for a second cinnamon bun, giving her a questioning look to see if it’s all right if I take a second helping.
Her eyes twinkle, and her smile returns to full wattage, sticking another fork in my heart. She nods. “I made plenty. You’re something else, Bishop.”
And then I say something that a friend would say. But in my case? It’s definitely crossing a line because my motives are clear to me but not clear to her. “And, as your friend, if you want to ever talk about wedding stuff, whatever is frustrating you, whatever is sticking in your craw, you can come to me.”
Cherise blinks a few times, then sighs.
“Since you’re now invested in my wedding, I’ll tell you. It’s Augie. And I’m afraid no matter how nice you are to him, he’s not going to calm down about moving the wedding to Vegas. I was stressed trying to plan it long distance, now he’s stressed because it’s a long distance from him.”
God knows why the thought of Ms. Williams’ fiancé being out of sorts over the change in venue makes me wickedly happy. But it does.
“Where was the wedding supposed to be originally?”
She answers, “Charlotte.”
I nearly choke on my second cinnamon bun. “I had no idea. I assumed a ‘long distance’ meant a few hours away, not across the entire country. Wrong of me to assume.”
Ms. Williams is unbothered. It’s impressive that she’s so calm. “No trouble. I’m paying for most of it, anyway, with a little help from my parents. We don’t have a wedding party who will be inconvenienced. My sisters and friends are attending as guests, and most of the guests are family from my side. With the deposits I’ve managed to get back, my airline miles—plus all the money you’re saving me by hosting the event and accommodations—I’m able to fly everyone here to attend. And my older sisters are helping to pick up the slack. Their husbands are, much like you, overly generous.”
I admit that I’m not well versed in wedding planning personally, but something about this bothers me. “Your sisters didn’t want to be in the wedding party? All four of them?”
She lifts one shoulder, and her smile fades a little. “Oh, they wanted to be in the wedding, but since Augie doesn’t have any groomsmen, I decided it was better to not have a wedding party. Who wants to see a bunch of women wearing matching dresses, like a gaggle of geese? That’s Augie’s sense of it anyway.”
I shove the rest of the bun into my mouth to prevent me from sharing my views of Augie’s opinions. As far as I’m concerned, he can stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. But I’m a mature adult, and I’m only getting one side of the story.
