Page 5 of The One I Love
“What about the caterer? I didn’t have a chance to talk to Charlie today to make sure that everything was set.”
“It’s fine,” Betsy assures. “I saw her van pulling up a bit ago. Now, can you sit back, take off your event planner hat for the rest of the day, and relax? I mean, that is why you hired a planner instead of doing this all yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” Whitley says. “Being on the other side of the wedding is more stressful than I thought.”
“Here,” I say, handing her a glass of champagne. “Sip this. Relax. Everything is under control.”
Whitley takes the flute from me and takes a tiny sip. “Remember when I wanted a small wedding?”
This makes both of us laugh. “You really thought you could get away with that?”
“She did,” Betsy says. “The daughter of a famous Alabama quarterback, the sister of a professional football coach, and basically Southern royalty, thought she could get away with a fifty-person wedding.”
“Really?”
She nods as she takes another sip. “That didn’t even include Jake’s friends and family. Before we knew it the guest list was at three hundred and I just gave up.”
“Wow,” I say, unable to fathom the amount of people that are going to be here. “You should have done it like me and eloped.”
“You eloped?” Betsy asks.
I nod my head. “Yup. A courthouse wedding on a Wednesday afternoon. Though I don’t recommend being eighteen and pregnant while doing it.”
“Did you ever have a reception or anything?”
“Never. Our families went out to dinner, but that’s it. By the time we did have the money to throw a party, it felt like a waste.”
Well, that’s what my ex-husband always said. I asked once if we could renew our vows and have the party we never had. Paul vetoed that idea immediately. Hell, once I just brought up in conversation that a nurse I worked with got an upgraded engagement ring from her husband for their anniversary. I never asked for one, but for the next week he made digs about me not liking my ring and how I was ungrateful.
Yet, those weren’t even two of the biggest issues or fights Paul and I had when we were married. But I do like to think of them from time to time to remind myself why I’m glad we’re divorced.
“I don’t know your ex-husband, but he sounds like the worst,” Betsy says.
I hold up my champagne flute to Betsy. “I knew I liked you.”
We share a smile and each take a sip of bubbly. “This is nice. I’ve never been in a wedding before.”
“Really?” Whitley asks.
“Nope. I didn’t have a lot of girlfriends growing up. Then I was pregnant with Luke, so making friends wasn’t on the top of my to-do list. The only one of the guys who’s been married is Wes and…”
I trail off, hating that I brought up Wes in front of Betsy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She shakes her head. And if I’m reading her right, she might push back a tear. “Don’t worry.”
“Have you talked to him at all?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault he’s being a jackass.”
I laugh. “It’s definitely not. I’ve tried my best for years with all of them, but to no avail.”
“You’re a saint, Amelia Evans. Those men don’t deserve you.” Betsy takes a deep breath. “Soon he’s going to realize he was ridiculous and in the wrong. Until then I’m going to drown my sorrows in champagne, maybe dance with a Fury player tonight, and pretend to be happy.”
“Please, just make sure he doesn’t start anything,” Whitley says. “The last thing I need is a fight.”
