Page 65 of Bridesmaid to Bride

“Holy shit, Eva,” West says.

“Thanks.” I flash him a smile.

“You did this yourself, Eva?” Kat asks, awe dripping from her words.

Paige’s eyes light up like sparklers as she gets out of her seat to come study my craft work. “Holy shitballs, Eva! Is that—?” She swallows hard, her voice wobbly when she says, “My babies?” Tears mist in her eyes.

“Yes.” I smile. And for a moment, everything’s perfect.

It’s a rush, being the one everyone leans on, the fixer, the doer, the dessert magician. But beneath the adrenaline, there’s a whisper of longing to feel good enough but never quite getting there.

“I don’t have words,” Paige gushes, eying the statues with reverence. The rest of the room echoes her sentiment, forks clinking against glass in a symphony. “Best. Sister. Ever,” she says, the words punctuated by clicks of her camera phone from every angle. Her face blooms with joy, like she’s just been proposed to all over again.

I feel West on my back again, and I flip around. He leans into me and whispers, “This is legit the most incredible chocolate statue I’ve ever seen. So… is it bad that I want to melt that chocolate, lather it over your naked body, and lick it off?”

Tingles zing my entire body, and I’m urging my jaw to stay put. I lick my lips before I compose myself and say, “I can’t think of a better way to enjoy this dessert.”

Our eyes lock, and I’m feeling all the emotions of the past few days come rushing through me at once. West always has this way of making me feel like I’m the only person in the room.

I see Foster out of the corner of my eye, and the moment is cleaved in half. I blurt, “Cheers to chocolate victories.” I lift an invisible glass to the ever-present understanding that hangs between West and me. And for a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if he were the one by my side, sharing the load.

“Bravo, Eva.” Skye raises her glass, and I flash her a smile.

Now Foster’s standing off to the side, nursing his drink and studying the chocolate pups. Typical Foster, probably contemplating the legal complexities of serving a homemade dessert at a public venue. Yes, I have all my permits, Foster.

As my canine confection disappears, the room’s buzz shifts to tipsy chatter, and the ocean is showing off, all shimmer and whisper.

When Zach and Paige leave for their couple’s massage, I call it a successful night, feeling good because the wedding saboteur did not strike. I can’t help but think it was our talk with Kat that solved things.

I head to the bar because now, finally, I can relax and have some fun.

31

The Sh*tWeasel

WEST

“Senator Easel,” Mom calls out, her voice sweet. She grips her Bloody Mary as she rushes up to him at the bar, her floral print dress flapping in the breeze.

Dad’s on her heels, and when the senator ignores her, he says, “Excuse us, Senator?” undeterred by the guy’s selective hearing routine.

Realizing he’s trapped, the senator turns and flashes them a fake as shit smile.

Mom shakes his hand. “Senator Easel, sir, we’re Bonnie and Buck, owners of Toys ‘n Joys in Blue Vine, Georgia,” she says, voice steady. “We sure would be grateful if you could pencil us in for a chat. Been tryin’ to snag a moment with you for over a year now.”

“Letters, too,” Buck says. “Stack of ‘em, but never heard back a peep.”

Senator Easel offers them a plastic sympathy nod. “My apologies. I’m afraid my schedule is quite full. All meetings go through my secretary, so you’ll have to call her.”

Dad’s brow furrows. “Well, sir, we’ve called that nice lady a dozen times.”

I realize my fists are balling up as I’m secretly begging The Senator to cut them a break—they’re desperate after he voted to up their taxes to a staggering amount, the reason why they’re going under.

With the cameras on me as I mingle with the bridesmaids for the Groomsman to Groom teasers, all I can do is stand here, hoping my parents land their Hail Mary. But I can tell Senator Easel’s skull is thicker than his wallet.

Sure enough, Shitweasel’s eyes scout for an escape, and when he spots Eva’s dad, he calls out, “Neil, a word!” and makes a beeline away from my parents.

Mom’s not having it. “Wait, Senator, please—” she steps forward with determination.

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