Page 86 of All Signs Point to Malibu

I fight for patience. “I understand they can’t get here today but is there any way they can be delivered by noon tomorrow?” The wedding is at 1:00 p.m. I can receive them at the hotel and get them set up myself. “We’ll pay a surcharge...whatever it takes.”

“You rich people think money solves everything.” The woman scoffs.

“Doesn’t it? I mean, I’m sure there are other deliveries you can move around.”

“The problem isn’t our schedule,” the woman says tightly. “It’s a big crater in the highway caused by that tremor a few weeks ago. Trucks over a certain weight can’t cross until the necessary repairs are made, so they’re forced to take an alternate, longer route.”

That damn tremor strikes again. Thought we were over its effects.

Yet the minute I shift my thinking about this wedding and my relationship with Sonia...another of its ripples pops up. A shiver dances down my spine despite the sweltering heat. Is fate trying to tell me something? Is ignoring my glimpse the right thing to do?

“Okay, I understand. Thank you.” I disconnect the call and hand Sonia her cell phone. “There’s nothing they can do.”

Sonia presses a hand to her chest as she continues to pace the parking lot. “What are we going to do? We can’t have a wedding without favors. What will guests think?”

Personally, I don’t think anyone would care. What the hell does anyone do with them anyway? I once found a crumpled origami favor with two mints inside in the bottom of an old purse who knows how long after the wedding.

But Sonia cares.

I stop her and calmly look into her eyes. “Hey, don’t stress. Don’t undo all the relaxation from today. I’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll make favors.” How hard could it be?

Sonia looks doubtful. “Fifty? The wedding is tomorrow.”

“Trust me,” I say and for the first time, I mean it.

Sitting at my kitchen table at 1:00 a.m., I open a notes app on my cell phone and type in “Best Man Speech.” Then I stare at the blinking icon. Other than keeping the rings safe and helping to seat guests tomorrow, this is my only duty, but it’s a heavy one.

Public speaking’s not my forte and love...

I scoff.

Maybe it’s more than that. A few weeks ago, I could have thrown together some cheesy shit with a few compliments to Sonia—how she makes Liam a better man—yada, yada, yada and a fun, embarrassing anecdote about Liam and be done with it. But now it’s hard to write a speech in support of a union that I don’t think is the right choice.

It’s none of my business, so I just need to cobble together a few heartfelt well-wishes and try not to mess it up.

My cell phone vibrates in my hand and I jump. Then my heart races even faster when I see a text from Hailey that says:

Need your help asap. Get over here.

Three dots...typing, then,Please.

She had me atNeed your help.

An hour later, I’m sitting on Hailey’s living room floor, making emergency replacement favors for the wedding.

Pale pastel ribbons, tulle, little mesh bags, expensive chocolates, and the tiniest bottles of champagne I’ve ever seen are laid out all over the floor. My assembled gift bags aren’t so pretty, but the prime objective is to get them done.

Hailey sits cross-legged across from me, working at warp speed. She’s dressed in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair piled high on her head and glasses on. I didn’t even know she wore glasses, but she looks incredible in them. The whole casual look suits her. Every look suits her.

I’m overdressed in comparison. As soon as the text came in, I showered in record time, doused myself in too much cologne, and then put on khaki pants and a button-down shirt. I hadn’t known I’d be sitting on her floor putting chocolates into little bags.

I don’t know what I thought I’d be doing. Or what I’d hoped to be doing. She needed me and I was here. So far conversation has been brief—a quick tutorial and then we’ve been working in silence.

I clear my throat and rack my mind for something to say. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

---