“Actually, I’m good with where I am. I’m a size six.”

“Multiple experts have determined that size four is the perfect size for a wedding dress.”

“The only expert I need is Dwight,” I said, matching her faux-sweet tone and looking up at him with raised brows.Time to put up or shut up, buddy.

His eyes darted between his mother and me, and he swallowed nervously. “I, um, I think Lehra looks fine.”

Not exactly a resounding endorsement, but at least it was something.

“I’ll have a side of bacon with my omelet,” I told him, a tiny bit out of spite, and he nodded before scurrying to the door.

“Be right back.”

“We’ll come back to the colors at a later time. Let’s discuss cakes,” Mrs. Jones said, flipping to another section, which was marked with a blue tab. “What do you think of these?”

To be honest, I liked all of them, but after studying the photos for a few moments, I decided on an elegant, tiered cake with pearl embellishments.

“We probably don’t need four tiers though. That will be entirely too much cake,” I noted, and Mrs. Jones frowned.

“Actually, I was planning to ask the baker to add an extra tier. We have four-hundred and thirty-three guests to invite from our side. Do you have an estimated headcount for your people?”

“Four-hundred and… uhhh, that seems like a lot.”

She smiled indulgently. “Yes, well, we have lots of business associates and other important people thatmustbe invited. How many do you expect from your side?”

“Maybeeee, sixty? I was picturing more of an intimate wedding with friends and family.”

“The friends and family will still be there,” she reasoned. “Now, what flavor of cake do you prefer?”

Guess we’ll come back to that too.

We miraculously agreed on cake flavors. A classic white cake with buttercream frosting was my favorite. I adored the moist, fluffy cake blended with the creamy sweetness. Red velvet was a close second, so we decided to use that for the groom’s cake.

“Do you know how many bridesmaids you’d like?” my future mother-in-law asked.

“Three,” I said firmly. “My friends Nicolette, Artie, and Gianna.” I smiled. “I’m also going to be in Gianna’s wedding in May.”

If Mrs. Jones hadn’t had so much Botox, I’m sure her forehead would have wrinkled. “Artie?”

“Yes, he’s one of my best friends.”

“He?”

“Yes, Artie is a guy.” I let out a little laugh. “I told him we would call him a bridesman.”

The woman winced and shook her head. “No, that just won’t do. He wouldn’t match.”

“It will be fine,” I assured her. “I thought he could wear a tux or suit with accents of the bridesmaid colors in his tie and pocket square.”

“But that would throw off the aesthetics, dear. Think of the pictures.” She literally shuddered like I’d suggested we have a troop of gorillas in the wedding.

Dwight returned then and his mother instantly started in. “Dwight darling, tell Lehra she can’t have amanas a bridesmaid.”

“A bridesman,” I corrected, fixing my eyes on my future husband. “I want Artie up there with me.”

His eyes left mine, and he audibly gulped. “I think that would be…” We waited for his answer, and when it came, it boiled my blood. “Weird. Maybe Artie can be an usher or something.”

“No, I want him as part of my bridal party. I’m pretty sure that’s my decision.”