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“Okay, boss.” Jolie salutes me with two fingers and I roll my eyes. Ihatewhen she calls me boss. It makes me feel old, even though I’m barely thirty.
“Ha freaking ha. C’mon.” I throw the van in park and hit the hazard lights. Jolie hops out, propping the exterior metal door open. Together, we unload the reception decorations: floral centerpieces, specialty linens, and of course, the all-important#cavitynapkins and custom-made decorations.
Buzz, buzz.
Pulling my cell out of my jeans pocket, I hold my breath as I read the text. Morning texts on event days are rarely a good thing.
Spence: Looking forward to seeing you this afternoon
A warm flush blooms from my chest, heat winding up my neck and into my cheeks.
“Everything okay?” Jolie asks, staring at me.
“Yeah, why?”
“Your face is red and your breathing picked up.”
“Damn, who are you, Nancy Drew?” I heart Spence’s text and shove my cell back into my pocket.
“I’m taking a psych class this semester and we’re on the body language unit.” Jolie tucks her hair behind her ear.
“Everything’s fine. Keep honing those skills.”
“It’s not Aunt Edna, is it? Demanding ten chai lattes for the bridal party, all made with different milk alternatives?”
I giggle. “No. We’re good. How about you move the van and I’ll start setting up here.” I toss her the keys before she can protest.
“Fine. But now that you mention it, I could go for an iced mocha. I’m stopping by the café on the way back. You want something?”
“Sure. I’ll have the same.”
“See you in a bit.”
Jolie heads out the back and I turn my attention back to the ballroom. Round tables with chairs are scattered around the room, with a sweetheart table for the bride and the groom flanking the square parquet dance floor in the center.
Grabbing the stack of linens, I begin covering the tables with the white cloths, smoothing away each and every wrinkle. Next, I layer the blush table runners before placing the vases of roses on each table. I work quickly, flitting from table to table, caught up in the routine. This is one of my favorite parts of my job, transforming a seemingly mundane space into something sparkly and magical. I love watching brides tear up when they walk into the reception, their wedding vision come to life.
“Madison Leigh.”
An all-too-familiar voice shocks me, sending me plummeting back to reality. I heave out a deep sigh before spinning around on my heel.
“Bentley. You’re not supposed to be down here right now. The groomsmen have a suite upstairs.”
The corners of his mouth tip up into a smirk. “Always such a rule follower.”
“That’s me. Out here doing the right thing,” I say, my gut burning at his veiled insult.
He takes two large strides and now he’s standing directly in front of me, so close I catch the strong, sweet smell of whiskey on his breath. His square jaw’s peppered with stubble and I vaguely wonder if he’s going to shave before the ceremony.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” His light blue eyes sear into me and my stomach clenches.
Obviously he was going to find out about Spence one way or the other, but I didn’t expect my cheating ex-boyfriend to make a special trip down here to grill me about it.
With a shuddery inhale, I tamp down my nerves. “Probably the same reason you didn’t bother telling me about banging your dental hygienist. Oh wait—I should have been privy to that information. Whereas you no longer have any input into my life whatsoever. So there’s that?—”
“Why so bitter, cupcake?” He cocks his head at me, as if he can’t understand why I might still be pissed off at him.
“Oh, I don’t know, Bentley. Maybe because you cheated on me, then lied about it for weeks. And don’t call me cupcake.”
