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For me, with Ross, if I’m really honest, I dated him mostly to see if I was over Ethan. I know that sounds questionable, but I hoped that I was ready, and let’s be real, the clock is ticking. All the same, the situation stings even though I’m over him. She can have him...and I could go for some ice cream right now, a big tub of butter pecan.
Romy texts while she talks. “And that’s when the flowers are supposed to be delivered, so if you could meet the florist to ensure everything is correct, that would be great. The wedding planner knows all this, of course, but I figure you should too as a backup. Astonleigh Bergerhoff referred her and then told me all the things that went wrong. For instance, there was an issue with the cake delivery on their wedding day. Apparently, she had some beef with the baker and they got chocolate ganache instead of vanilla silk between the layers. Can you believe that? But I’m locked in now. You just never know who to trust these days.”
I sigh. “No. You don’t.”
She goes on with more wedding day details.
Once more, my thoughts float away and I glimpse into the past at the wedding I’d been planning with Ethan.
“Oh, before I forget—” Romy drops a list in my lap. “I need you to check on the favors. There should be five hundred, not four hundred fifty. They made an error. So get more or make them yourself—I don’t care. But I can’t have guests leaving empty-handed.” She goes on and on while her phone buzzes. “You got it?”
“Yes. Lots of duties.”
“And call this number to...” Romy’s phone won’t stop beeping with incoming texts. “Ugh. My mother wants to know if the Delaneys are coming. I don’t know and quite frankly, don’t care. Courtney didn’t come to the wedding shower, so I have my doubts.”
I hate to say it, but I don’t care either. Not about any of this. I eye the door.
She takes a slug of wine and stabs her phone. Mine beeps with an incoming text from her. She shared a contact with me. There’s no name or label other than MM. Those are my initials—short for Magnolia McGuiness—but I don’t say anything because then I risk Romy continuing to rifle orders at me.
Opting to go with the flow and stop the constant flow of alcohol into Romy’s system, I remove the wine glass from her hand and place it on the table.
“Romy, your wedding day is tomorrow and everything is going to be great. You are going to have a beautiful day. You hired a professional planner, all your friends and family are going to be there, and you’re marrying Ross. It’ll be so special and sweet and everything you want it to be.”
“But—”
Shaking my head at her protest, I say, “Can we say a prayer together?”
Her shoulders relax slightly. “I guess I was getting a little excited.”
“You should be excited. You’re pledging your life to the man of your dreams.”
“You’re probably going to find yours too someday.”
It’s juvenile of me to be annoyed by her comment, but it’s hard not to be. I say an additional prayer for patience and forgiveness, just in case. A soft and genuine smile lifts the corners of my mouth.
Soon, this will be over and I can retreat to my island hideaway.
Romy says she has to take a nap before her appointment at the salon for her rehearsal dinner hair and makeup.
“I’m going to head over to the hotel to check in.”
“No, wait. You have to—” She rattles off a litany of duties. “And the list. Don’t forget about the list. Or the rings. Be sure to text that number about the rings. We can’t have any problems tomorrow.”
“Right. Okay, I’ll text the number.”
After I say goodbye, I seal myself in my SUV. I could sure use a beach walk with my mutts right now.
Instead, my finger hovers over thecallbutton with the name label MM. Most people prefer texting, so against my better sensibilities I tap the little speech bubble to send a text, half expecting it to show my phone number since those are my initials—Magnolia McGuinness. But no, there must be another MM. Maybe Romy wasn’t as off-kilter as I thought. I thumb in a quick message. Just as I hit send, I glimpse the autocorrect typo.
Me: Hi, this is Lally. Will you marry me?
I get a quick reply.
MM: Please forward your application to my assistant.
Magnus
CHAPTER 2
