AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Really, Cherise? I can’t tell one casino from the next.”
I bite my tongue, deciding not to point out to him—again—that Orchid is not technically a casino. “Well, how did she end up down there?”
He huffs, “I don’t know! You must have given her the wrong address.”
This is not right. I never gave her an address in the first place. Why would I when Augie arranged the entire visit with Bishop’s executive assistant? I don’t bother correcting him. He always does this when he’s stressed. He forgets who said what when and we just go in circles.
“Is she okay? Where is she now?”
“Of course, she’s with me. We’re on our way to the hotel now.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and rest my hand over my racing heart. “Thank goodness. You really had me worried for a second,” I chuckle.
“It’s not a laughing matter, Cherise.”
I compose myself and try to lighten the mood. “Well, no harm done. I’ve been to that burlesque place before. It’s a great show!”
“Honestly.” To my surprise, Augie is not letting this go. “You have zero consideration sometimes. Imagine expecting everyone to follow your lead when you make last-minute changes to your wedding.”
He’s right. “All right, Augie. It’s all going to work out. Just calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! My mother got lost on the Strip. She is beside herself, and she’s talking about not even coming to the wedding at all.”
Trying to keep the peace, I say, “I just meant let’s all take a deep breath. Weddings are stressful. We all need to sit down and have a great dinner and conversation tonight, and everything will be right as rain. I promise.”
Augie pauses, heaves a sigh, and signs off with, “Fine. See you tonight.”
I start to ask him if he’d like to stop in and see me while I’m meeting with the wedding planner since we haven’t seen each other in a couple of months. But he’s gone before I get the chance.
When I look up, Henrietta is politely pretending she heard none of that. How embarrassing.
“I apologize. Now, where were we?”
She smiles kindly and says, “You were saying how you don’t believe in fairytales.”
Swallowing back the inexplicable lump in my throat, I nod. “Right. What’s next on the list?”
Just then, the door to Henrietta’s office opens, and Bishop leans in, peeking around th
e door at us. The cut of his suit today, contrasting with the dusting of silver in his five o’clock shadow, takes my breath away. I wasn’t ready.
“Sir! What can I help you with?” Henrietta asks.
Bishop, still half-leaning into the room, eyes me. “I just wanted to check in and see how the wedding planning was going. See if there’s anything I can help with.”
How odd of him to bring this up now, since I just saw him this morning, and he could have inquired about the wedding then. When Bishop and I chit-chat over coffee and buns, though, he wants to talk about anything but the wedding. Yet another reason his company is so appealing.
Bishop is giving me unprecedented access to his time. Me being me, I use this opportunity to crack a joke instead of asking this god or genie to grant another wish. “You could change the name of the hotel. Seems my future mother-in-law’s cab driver dropped her at the place on the Strip.”
“Ah, the Orchid Room,” he muses. I flush when I notice his faraway look as if he remembers the place. Why do I suddenly want to march over to that other place and scratch every one of those burlesque dancers like an angry barn cat? Which one is he thinking about right now? I just want to talk to her.
Oh, Cherise, what has gotten into you?
He recovers, clears his throat. “Not that I frequent…I mean…yes, this is not the first time a driver went wrong for one of our guests. Consider dinner comped tonight, as recompense for her troubles.”
My future mother-in-law’s temporary inconvenience is in no way equal to an eighty-dollar entree at Orchid. Still, it’s allowing me to have another conversation with this intriguing man. Part of me fantasizes about kicking my own dad to the curb and having this gent walk me down the aisle. I’m kidding, of course. I would never want anyone to walk me down the aisle except my sweet, silly dad.
And then, another part of me fantasizes about kicking someone else to the curb, and his name rhymes with “Boggy.” As in, the one bogging down my mood at the moment. But I chalk up this urge to the argument we just had. We’ll smooth things over tonight.
