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I involve Liam’s mom because she’s been so supportive, but there’s some push-pull because she wants to go a more traditional route than I do.
On the morning I’m thinking about dresses, I take a stab in the dark and reach out to Ashling, who I’ve been dying to see.
Olivia: Hi, Ash, it’s Liam’s girlfriend Liv. Have any of your friends gotten married? I need help.
Ash: my brother got married a couple years ago and it was totally lit. best over the top party ever. but crazy expensive. how much can we spend?
Olivia: i’m not sure if he was kidding but Liam said i should do whatever i want and check in with him if i hit a million dollars.
Ash: we don’t even have to tell him until we hit a mil?? its official babe, ur the Callahan princess. im gonna find out Scotty’s wedding planner, so u can compare notes. n get appt at Pruenza. they do wed dresses for debs n celebs. thats the place to go.
Olivia: TY [heart emoji]
* * *
Two days later,I wake up sick to my stomach.
While I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, Liam comes in with a glass of water and leans down to feel my forehead.
“Are you sick? Or something else?”
“Something else, I think.”
He kisses the top of my head and then sits on the edge of the tub. “Is there anything I can do?”
I rest my head back against the vanity cabinet. “I’ll be all right in a minute.”
Liam stands and wets a washcloth. “Here.”
The cool water feels good as I wipe my face. “Maybe a hair tie?”
“Sure.” He leaves the room.
A few minutes later, he returns with a hair clip, a throw blanket and Brady. “Look who’s awake. He was sitting up in his crib, hanging out with his stuffed rabbit.”
I smile and draw in a deep breath. Brady reaches out for me.
“You can put him down.” I touch the tile near me.
“Nah, he can stay with his dad for a while. Rest until you feel better.” Liam hands me the clip and wraps the blanket around my shoulders.
As he starts to leave, I say, “Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve got that the wrong way around, baby doll. I’m the one thanking you.”
CHAPTER20
OLIVIA
Two weeks later, I sit in the passenger seat of Ash’s Camaro. Although she isn’t driving her vintage car recklessly, I keep one hand on the passenger arm rest and the other bracing my bridal binder on my lap.
“I can’t believe you’ve already got so many things set up,” she says. “Photographer, flowers, venue, plans for the guests’ welcome bags with custom totes… what’s even left besides dresses?”
“A few things. Music, rehearsal dinner details, some personal choices—like whether I’ll do a father-daughter dance at the reception.”
