Page 20 of Always a Bridesmaid
Lexi tapped her glittery gold pen to her notebook. “What are you thinking for flowers, Addie?”
“Yes,” Addie said. At Lexi and Violet’s mutual gaping, she wrinkled her nose. “Is that not the right answer?”
Violet smiled, attempting to undo the shock she’d aimed Addie’s way. “Customarily, a bride selects flowers she likes. Or she might choose based on the colors she’s decided on.”
Addie bit her thumbnail. “Um, I don’t have colors picked out, either.”
“No worries. What kind of flowers do you like?”
Addie shrugged and looked at Ford, who also shrugged. Watching their interactions from this angle, Violet realized they didn’t act like a couple at all. More like siblings—not that she would really know what that entailed.
“Come on,” Lexi coaxed, stretching her hand across the table to cover Addie’s. “Surely you’ve spotted flowers somewhere and thought,I enjoy those.”
“Yellow dandelions make me happy.”
“Then they turn white and you can blow them and make wishes and shit,” Ford added.
Lexi’s eye twitched, but her smile remained plastered on her face. “Those are weeds. Try again.”
Addie wound the end of her ponytail around her finger. “Ooh, how about those tiny white ones that open in the morning? They have a hint of pink or purple stripes inside. I accidentally mangled a patch the last time we played Fugitive.”
“Are you talking about morning glories? Because those are weeds, too, my dear.” Lexi rubbed a couple of fingers across her forehead. “Let me guess, you want a weed bouquet now.”
Addie giggled. “Weed. That’ll be one way to keep everyone nice and mellow at the ceremony and reception.”
“I vote yes,” Ford said. “After all the pranks we’ve pulled on the fine citizens of our town, that’s about the only way they’ll relax and enjoy themselves during this shindig.”
“Excellent point. Though we might have to put a barbwire fence around the cake in case they get the munchies before it’s time. What decor is that? Farm chic?”
“Prison-yard love, I think.”
“Dude, later we’re gonna have to have a talk about what prison-yard love means.” Addie patted Ford’s knee. “Here’s a hint and a tip all in one: don’t drop the soap.”
The two of them devolved into laughter, flowers no longer on their radar.
Lexi swept her arm toward the duo. “Do you see what I’m dealing with? A bride who doesn’t care about decorations or flowers and her man of honor, who is as clueless about wedding stuff as she is.”
“I told you to go ahead and choose whatever on my behalf,” Addie said, a pinch of offense in the words.
“I thought you’d change your mind once we dove in. The entire un-stoned town is going to be there, and if I’m going to do the majority of the planning, I at least need a sounding board. Asking you two for advice is like talking into a void.”
Addie wiped at the tears her laughter had caused. “Sorry, Lexi. You’re amazing for taking this on, and I’d be totally lost without you, so please don’t let my lack of girliness send you running. I’ll do better. I promise.”
She nudged Ford with her elbow.
“Yeah, me, too.” Ford followed up his statement by nudging Violet.
She twisted his way, her instincts failing to remind her she wasn’t going to look directly at him until it was too late. Her mouth went dry—her memory of his face up close didn’t do it justice. Unlike a lot of the guys in Pensacola, his beard wasn’t perfectly groomed, but untamed, a couple days’ growth from out-of-control. One corner of his lips tipped a smidge higher than the other, as if he always had a smile at the ready.
Hello, donotlook at his lips!
Recalling the nudge that’d made her focus way too much on him, she asked, “What? How can I do better when I barely got here?”
“Where’s my nonna? She’d at least have an opinion on flowers—she still sneaks over to the neighbors’ yard late at night to water the ones she planted when they were out of town.” Addie surveyed the front of the bakery, but Lucia was no longer there. “Oh great, I’ve lost her. I bet you anything she went to the diner to check if anyone would let her order a burger and fries. My mom is seriously going to kill me.”
With everyone distracted, Violet decided to take her leave. “Well, sounds like you’re getting it all figured out.” She scooted her chair away from the table, already halfway out of it. “I should get back to work. I’m planning out the bakery remodel and—”
“Come on, Violet,” Ford said, as though they’d known each other for years instead of hours. He placed his hand over the one she had on the table and her heartthump, thump, thumped. “Help a couple of guys and one desperate wedding planner out.”
