Page 19 of Before I Say I Don't
Serena speared a piece of cheddar and muttered, “Guess I’ll just use the penis straws at home,” and kept eating.
“Moving on,” Danica continued, her voice steady but infused with the urgency of the moment. “Kendall, you’re on bouquet pick-up. On the day of the wedding, they need to be picked up by two o’clock sharp, straight from the florist! They’ll have Kam’s bouquet, mine, and all the bridesmaids’ perfectly arranged in water, so they stay fresh until we start taking photos. When you get there, you’ll need to sign for them, check to make sure that none of the arrangements are missing, and bring themdirectlyto the bridal suite. No detours, no ‘I just stopped real quick’—you go straight there!”
Kendall was fidgeting with a pen, twirling it between her fingers as her brow furrowed in concern.
“Okay. But… I have a lash appointment at one o’clock that day.”
The table went quiet. Serena tilted her head to the side, her expression resembling that of someone staring at a particularly bad parking job.
Danica’s brow crept up. “Why would you book that thedayof the wedding? You have the timeline! I sent it to everyone! Hell, I color-coded the timeline! This is not just a pick-up; it’s a critical job, Kendall! If the bouquets aren’t there, guess what? No flowers in the photos! If they miss portraits,Ibecome the headline on the evening news! Please don’t make me go viral for the wrong reasons!”
Kendall blinked, caught in the crossfire between defensiveness and a creeping embarrassment.
“I just… thought it’d be better to get them fresh that morning,” she murmured, her voice small.
“Girl,” Serena interjected, her tone playful yet pointed, “the bouquet is the one thing that absolutelyhasto be fresh.”
Even Lena, usually reserved, couldn’t help but smirk at the exchange.
Kendall straightened her posture, a gesture that seemed more nervous than confident. “Okay. I’ll try to move it."
“Not ‘I’ll try,’” Danica corrected gently. “Move it... or be lashless for the wedding. You’re still cute without them. If you can get it rescheduled, send me the confirmation. If you hit a wall, call me, and I’ll move the wall.”
Kendall glanced at me, searching for support, but I simply smiled apologetically and turned back at my checklist.
“Alright, let’s move on to the next assignments. Serena, you’ve got reception energy and bridal suite setup—food, drinks, the whole nine yards. Where we at?”
Serena lifted her hand like she was on a cooking show. “Menu is set! We’re featuring wings in three distinct moods—lemon pepper for the tangy lovers, hot honey for those who like a little kick, and what I call the ‘call your mama’ wings, which are just downright unapologetic. I’ve also got a beautiful fruit tray so we can pretend to be balanced, plus sliders for the guys who act like they haven’t eaten all day. And I’m bringing a cooler big enough to hide a body—kidding! Jesus, don’t take that literally. I’ve also already ordered ice, cups, napkins, and those little cocktail stirrers that somehow make people feel classy for no reason.”
Danica raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Liquor? What’s the plan for that?”
Serena flashed a mischievous grin. “Handled! We’ve got tequila for shots, whiskey for sipping, champagne for toasts, and a signature cocktail that I’m calling the ‘Mrs. Not-If-You-Lying’. It’s pretty, vibrant, and it definitely bites back.”
I couldn't help but laugh. “Of course it is.”
“Delivery and timing?” Danica asked, her notebook poised for notes, already writing as if it were the most critical point of the day.“
“I have someone coming to stock the bridal suite on the morning of the wedding,” Serena replied confidently. “That’llinclude fruit, pastries, water, protein bars, and of course, the crash cart—wings for before the ceremony so we don’t pass out from hunger!”
Danica nodded appreciatively, a smile breaking across her face. “Good work.” She clicked to the next name on her neatly organized agenda. “Lena, how are the emergency kits coming along?”
Lena slid a slim, elegantly designed box across the table, presenting it like a piece of prized evidence.
“Customized kits are complete for each bridesmaid. Here’s a sample for you to check out.”
The box was labeled and color-coordinated, clearly reflecting the wedding’s theme. Inside, every item was inventory-checked and carefully arranged.
“Each kit contains a fashion tape, safety pins, a mini sewing kit for quick fixes, a stain remover pen for any mishaps, heel guards to prevent shoe disasters, blister bandages for comfort, pain relievers for those inevitable headaches, lash glue, bobby pins, mints for fresh breath, blotting papers for shine control, deodorant wipes for quick refreshing, tampons for emergencies, a phone charger to stay connected, and straws for sipping those celebratory drinks without ruining our lipstick.”
Her hands danced over the contents, showcasing them with pride.
“In the matron-of-honor kit, I’ve even added tiny scissors and a portable travel steamer for any last-minute wardrobe emergencies.”
Danica peeked at me, her expression pleased.
“I likeeeeee! And what about Kam’s kit?”
Lena’s smile widened as she revealed a shimmering rhinestone-studded case from beneath the table, almost as if performing a magic trick.
