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And a third.
From Tucker
And remember the rings
I type back.
To Tucker
Yes, Mom
My phone pings again.
From Tucker
Anyway, if you get here at a decent hour, we’ll be in the Magnolia meeting room
I don’t reply.
Did they book a meeting room to have an informal meet-up between the groomsmen and bridesmaids? Are they nuts?
And how long does Tucker plan to have the session last?
Thank goodness I accidentally got myself out of it.
This is going to be a long week.
3
ARCHIE
By the time I get to the hotel—more of a resort equipped with a pool, a spa and a vineyard in the backyard—in St. Helena, it’s already a quarter to six. I ask the clerk at the front desk where to find the Magnolia meeting room, in case my friends really have gone insane and are still discussing dances, frills, and color schemes.
The man points me in the right direction and, after meandering along a few corridors, I find the designated room. A brass plaque outside the door identifies it as Magnolia.
I poke my head in and sigh in relief at finding the space empty. I’m about to leave to go check in when a phone starts ringing inside.
There’s only one table in the room, and its polished wooden surface is clear of objects. Where’s the ringing coming from? I follow the sound, kneeling down and crawling under the table where I find the device lodged between a chair and a table leg.
Without checking the caller ID, I pick up as I crawl out from under the table.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hello,” comes a surprised man’s voice from the other side. “Err, is Lana there?”
Lana, huh? She’s Winter’s best friend. Who, if I remember correctly, is dating Christian Slade, America’s number one heartthrob and, until recently, Hollywood’s most wanted bachelor. Could this be him on the phone?
And just because I’m an asshole, I say, “Sorry, who did you say it was?”
“Christian, her boyfriend.” He confirms my deductions, sounding pissed enough.
An evil laugh plays in my head; it’s not every day that one gets to mess with the so-called Sexiest Man Alive.
“Sorry, man,” I say. “Lana left her phone.”
“Where?” His tone has turned murderous.
And since I’m not a complete douche, I stop the teasing. “Meeting room. She must’ve dropped it while discussing flower arrangements or something. But mine is just an educated guess, unfortunately; I didn’t get here in time for the wedding planning session.”
