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Josephine shakes her index finger. “Nu-uh-uh. You’re choosing your own suit and what you want the guys to wear. You’re the one wearing it, not me. If you’re not comfortable or happy with it, it’s all on you.”
Sweat builds on my temples. “Me? You want me to pick it out?”
Josephine stares at me like, ‘duh.’
“I’m not entirely comfortable with this much freedom,” I admit. Aren’t most women very particular about this sort of thing? I feel like this could be a trap to see if I pick correctly. I’m already on Josephine’s shit list—I don’t want to screw this up. “Can I at least have a color scheme or something?”
Josephine laughs but shows some mercy. “Sure, babe. The colors are emerald, pale pink, gold, and gray. Bridesmaids are in emerald. Flowers are pink. Gold accents. And your suits will be gray. I’ll let you hash out what tie or bowtie color you want from the three remaining colors.”
I repeat the four colors in my head, committing them to memory.Okay, I can do this.I’ll grab aGQmagazine, pick out a suit, and have my brothers and I go in for fittings.
Easy peasy.
“That’s it? No more planning?” I ask, hopefully.
My Pixie rolls her blue eyes and shakes her head. “I know I did the bulk of the planning, but there’s a shit ton left.”
Trepidation creeps into my voice. “Like what?” I could have sworn we were done. For Christ’s sake, we have a binder full of everything already taken care of for the wedding. What more could there be?
“For starters, we need two ushers.”
Easy.“Brass and Reaper. Next.”
“We need to pick poems, bible verses, or music for the ceremony.”
Huh?
“We need a song for our first dance as husband and wife.”
Shit.
“We have to decide if we’re taking a honeymoon, and where and when.”
AHHH!
“There’s a lot of little things too, like buying champagne flutes for the toasts, what color napkins to layout during dinner. Are we going with two entrees or three? Brass or silver for our knife and server for the cake? Do we bring in heaters, or do we light the fire pit? Or both?”
“Okay! I get it,” I say with exasperation, falling back against the couch.
“You asked,” she reminds me.
I give her a brooding look. The sad part is I should have expected this. Opal told me a wedding typically takes a year to plan, and here Jo was trying to throw it all together in less than three months.
“This would have been way easier had we gone to the courthouse or eloped,” I mumble to myself.
But I can’t be upset. Josephine is my queen and she deserves a royal wedding. Fuck if this isn’t frustrating though.
I sigh. “What can I do to help?”
“Well…” Josephine walks over to the kitchen island and grabs what looks like a rolled poster. “You could tell me which blueprints you prefer.”
“Blueprints?” I watch as she unrolls the paper in front of me, revealing plans for a house. Suddenly it hits me. “Holy shit, you finished our house plans?!”
Josephine nods with enthusiasm. “When you leave me alone for four days, I have to do something to keep myself occupied. I stuck with the same midcentury modern vibe, much like the headquarters. If you want four kids, I get six bedrooms. Everyone has their own space, plus room for guests, and I keep my sanity.
“With a ranch, we’re all on one level, but I have us on the other side of the house, away from all the ruckus. My office will be on our side as well, to ensure I get my work done. Each bedroom has its own en suite bathroom, which will be good as the kids get older.
“The basement will be a designated kid zone and storage. There will be room downstairs to add a gym if you would prefer to stay at home instead of going to the headquarters, it’s your choice. I wouldn’t mind having a small gym for a stationary bike and treadmill if nothing else.”
