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That we’re perfect for each other.
Because he has to be feeling this too, right?
Right?
“Penny for them?” Charlie asks, and I realized I’ve been zoned out for twenty miles. “Or a dollar? With inflation.”
I smile. “Oh, nothing. Just that this will be the first wedding with a couple I actually know. It’ll be fun to really celebrate them, and not just run handsy-aunt interference.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” Charlie grins. “Poppy has a cousin with quite the reputation. I may need you yet.”
We reach the rustic Griffin Lake signs, which point us up a long driveway. Even after googling the hotel, I’m still lost for words when we emerge from the trees and see the property for the first time.
It feels like we’ve driven into a painting. There’s a shoreline and sparkling lake, all framed by lush trees. The main lodge building waits at the end of the road, complete with small cabins on the path toward the lake. “It’s likeDirty Dancing!” I exclaim.
He chuckles. “Does this mean I’m stuck carrying the watermelon?”
“Dylan has to let me move in,” I say, as we pull up outside the main lodge. “This is my permanent residence, forward my mail.”
Charlie smiles over at me. “Eh, you’d miss that New York City romance.”
He’s right, of course. But when a uniformed valet greets us, offering a champagne spritzer, I reconsider. “Would I, though… ?”
The valet offers to take our bags and directs us inside, where there are soaring ceilings, wood panels, and a tall stone fireplace.
Near the front desk, there’s a welcome sign on an easel, announcing the Hathaway-Griffin wedding, and there are gorgeous hydrangea arrangements on every surface.
“It looks amazing,” I say, before someone shrieks my name from across the room. I turn.
It’s Poppy, ducking through the arrivals,
wearing a white satin robe, and she has rollers in her hair.
“Happy wedding day!” I greet her.
“Hi, hi, hi,” Poppy says. She looks beautiful, but her smile is almost hysterical. “I need your help!”
“Oh, no.” My mind flashes with images of torn veils, dress zippers, a caterer who did not show. “What is it?”
“One of my bridesmaids pulled a muscle in her back.”
“Okay, I can handle that.” I say quickly. “Guest services will have painkillers; caterers will have plenty of ice.” I nod, confident that I can help. “What was she doing?”
Poppy smirks. “… One of the groomsman. Early this morning.”
I can’t help but laugh, and even Charlie chuckles.
“I know,” Poppy says, laughing too. “Good for her. But we gave her a muscle relaxant to help, and now she’s kind of…”
“Loopy?” I guess.
“Out of office. On another planet. She’s finally sleeping—bless her—and she needs to stay that way.” Poppy clasps her hands together. Her tasteful pink manicure glistens in the overhead light. “So now, I can either have an uneven bridal party that will live on eternally in pictures… Or I can ask you to stand in. Please? Pretty please?”
“Me? Isn’t there someone else who—”
“I actually like and who is approximately the same size as my bridesmaid?” Poppy finishes. “Nope! Please,” Poppy whispers, eyes pleading. “Not to sound like a bratty teenager, but if you don’t do this, my mother will make me include my awful cousin Nicki. And she hit on Dylan at Thanksgiving,anddid too many tequila shots and puked in my mom’s prized ficus.Please.”
I laugh. “Of course I’ll do it,” I tell her. “God forbid cousin Nicki ruin another happy occasion.”
