Page 15 of Karma's Kiss

“No!Not at all. I’m lucky if he evenlooksat the ball, much less kicks it. It’s ridiculous but all our neighbors were doing it so now I’ve paid something like two hundred and fifty bucks to watch my child rip up grass and run around barking andpretending to be a dog. Oh look, now he’s licking a tree. Do you think David Beckham could kick a soccer ball at three? Maybe I should put Nathan in piano instead. Anyway, what did you call about?”

“I’m going on the date.”

“STOP. Really? Sheesh, you work fast.”

“I think it was just right place, right time. I keep bumping into him.”

“How’d you get him to ask?”

“Oh…well, it didn’t take much convincing.”

“That’s even better! If he’s that eager that means you’re guaranteed a heartbreak. Oh crap, Nathan is pulling down his pants. He’s peeing in the grass! I gotta—”

Then the line went dead, but now, Kendra’s not calling me back like I thought she might. When I check, the caller ID reads Living Florals, who I’ve worked with countless times at Evermore Events. Their prices are competitive and Fiona, their lead florist, has an unparalleled eye for color and design.

She’s not one to call late on a Saturday night unless it’s important, so I answer, “Fiona? Hey!”

“Oh hi! I was hoping to reach you. Sorry it’s not usual business hours.”

“No, it’s totally fine. Just…really quick, I should mention that I’m taking a summer break from Evermore Events, so if this is about the Lincoln wedding, you should contact Lizzie. She has the most up-to-date floral design.”

“Yes, no problem. I’ve already been in contact with her and we have that all squared away. This is aboutyourwedding!”

My stomach plummets. “M-My wedding?”

I sound shocked because I am. Matthew proposed to me during our senior year at Auburn, the weekend before spring break. He’d gone to the trouble to set up a private room at a fancy Italian restaurant, and I remember taking care with myappearance that night more than ever before. I was so nervous I could barely get through our meal before Matthew got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I said yes and all our friends poured into the private room from the hallway where they’d been listening in.

At the time, we had so much going on that we agreed to set a date for the wedding later. We were young, we had time. We felt like there was no rush, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have all the important items already squared away. In fact, I had the whole thing planned. Early autumn. Outside at the Waldorf. Ceremony at sunset. Cocktail hour followed by a night of dancing in the Shanghai ballroom. Fiona and I had pored meticulously over floral options and finally settled on all white. We agreed it was traditional yet daring, bold and memorable.

“We received a call from the Waldorf just a few minutes ago, confirming your date. You know how Patricia likes to be on top of things.” Patricia is the Waldorf’s in-house wedding coordinator. She’s meticulous and thorough. I’ve worked with her dozens of times in the last few years. “She asked for confirmed florals by the end of the month, which would usually be out of the question except you and I have had them nailed downforever. Before I shoot her over this PDF, I just wanted to make sure nothing has changed.”

I feel so dizzy I have to sit down on the edge of my childhood bed: frilly, pink, stained with cranberry juice in the bottom right corner.

“I’m sorry, Fiona.” My voice is shaking as I speak. “I…I assumed you got my email that the wedding had been postponed.”

“Yes! Of course,” she rushes out quickly, “but then there was the follow-up email earlier this week that it was back on and movingfast. Early July is insane, but if anyone can pull off a wedding in four weeks, it’s you!”

Her tone is so chipper it makes me sick. I think my heart might take flight out of my chest.

“There’s been a mistake. Who…who did you say sent this email?”

“Matthew. And then he called yesterday…”

“I canceled this wedding.”

“Yes…and now you’veun-canceled it.” She laughs lightly, totally not understanding the situation.

Finally, like a crazed criminal confessing under duress, I shout shrilly, “IT’S NOT MY WEDDING!”

My loud breathing fills the tense silence.

Fiona clears her throat. “Oh. I-I apologize for the call and well…I apologize.”

Then she hangs up.

Immediately, I open Facebook and type Matthew’s name in the search bar. Congratulations flood his profile. My shaking fingers scroll down.

Can’t wait to celebrate! Just booked my flight!

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