Page 3 of It Could Happen
I make a face after I hit send. Was that too over-the-top? Too Hallmark-y? Ha, well, it’s sent, so it’s too late to change it now.
Only a few seconds go by before texts start coming.
Hi, Tori. I’ve heard so much about you.
We can’t wait to meet you.
Ah, it’s the famous Tori. She does exist.
Famous?I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. Of course I have no idea which number belongs to whom.
I’m not a fan of these group text conversations. I certainly don’t have all day to read every message and match them up to the sender. Especially because I’ve never met any of these women. I send one more text before putting my phone away.
Excited to meet you all too.
Short, sweet, kind of sincere, and to the point.
I get busy working on my sales forecast for next month while my phone continues to buzz as each new text comes through. Admittedly the curiosity is driving me crazy—so I finally give in to the pressure and pick up my phone. Fifty-two messages, ugh. I shouldn’t be surprised—not only are we a part of a bridal party, we’re Caroline Carlisle’s bridesmaids. With this wedding comes a level of responsibility that can’t be matched.
I skim through the messages. Most of them are about the kickoff dinner, dress styles, and a few about the bachelorette party. I figured Caroline had chosen pale pink and white for her color scheme, considering almost everything in the box she sent was pink. It’s a good thing I like pink, and I think it pairs well with my light brown hair and green eyes. I quickly send a text suggesting everyone wear name tags at the kickoff dinner. I’m half kidding, half serious. I add a smiley face emoji since I don’t know my audience. Sure enough, someone sends a snarky response.
Interesting idea.Although tacky name tag stickers won’t exactly go along with Caroline’s attire request.
Tacky name tags?
Crap—who is this? I scroll all the way to the top and search for an 843 number. It belongs to someone named Leslie, and she’s the same person who commented about me being famous. Hello, red flag.
This makes me wonder. How many bridesmaids are too many? I don’t think five is a bad number. My cousin had like ten women in her wedding party. I have no idea how she kept the drama to a minimum or even if she did. I don’t even know if I have ten friends.
My phone buzzes again.
Mark your calendar for the kickoff dinner one week from Saturday.
I’ll send over details shortly.
Caroline was right about Erica, she’s detail-oriented and super-efficient. I like those qualities in a person.
“Damn. Is everything okay?” Parker asks. “Your phone has been going off nonstop.”
I sigh. “My friend Caroline is getting married, and she asked me to be in her wedding—and now I’m stuck on a group chat for the foreseeable future. My phone may never be quiet again.”
I imagine texts will be coming through at all hours of the night. Will I ever sleep? I may have to keep my phone on silent permanently.
She squeals, “Oh, I love weddings! I want to get married just so I can plan a reception.”
I lean my head to the side. “No, you want to get married because you love romance, and you believe in true love. You and my friend Caroline would get along great.”
“Well, yes,” she says placing her hands on her heart. “What about you? Do you ever think about the future and happily ever after?”
She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. I have no doubt she’s imagining a scene from a rom-com movie.
“Sure. Who doesn’t?”
She gives me a curious look, her blue eyes burning into me. “Ah, so you aren’t only uber career-focused and independent after all.”
“No.” I pause and lean back in my chair. “I don’t understand why I can’t be both. Just because I don’t obsess over finding love doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
“Good for you,” Parker says, holding up her fist for a bump. “I need to be more like that.”
