Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I whirl around to face Sawyer, gripping the netting to keep my feet underneath me. “CHARLOTTE told you about Kendra’s plan? Charlotte’s the rat?!”
I didn’t think she had it in her to be so diabolical!
Sawyer’s unfazed. “Charlotte did me a favor.”
“Charlotte did not do you a favor!” I whisper-hiss. “She did the exact opposite! She should have kept her mouth shut because she has no idea what she’s talking about and—and she really needs to stop eavesdropping on people’s conversations in the bathroom and just focus on, you know, peeing and getting out of there!”
Cruz laughs. To him, this must seem like one big joke, but it’s not. This is serious. We bounce, bounce, bounce. Sawyer gets too close on purpose, and I tip backward. If not for the netting holding me up, I’d be toppling back into the grass.
“She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” he insists, defending her. “She said anyone in the bathroom could have heard you talking on the phone during our date.”
I toss my hands into the air and try—unsuccessfully—to heave myself off the netting. Sawyer keeps jumping too close to me. I can’t even move. It’s infuriating!
“She doesn’t know the whole story! She should have come to me first before running to you! She did it to sabotage our relationship!”
“No, she told me the truth because Charlotte’s a real friend. And this was never a relationship.”
Nail, coffin—whack.
“Where’s my birthday boy?” Lindsey asks from across the backyard. “You’ve got a lot of people eager to see you!”
Cruz claps excitedly. “Ma-ma!”
“He’s all ready to go, Linds.” Sawyer walks over to the mouth of the bounce house and delivers Cruz to Lindsey. For a second, I think he might stay behind in here with me so we can hash this out, but clearly, he’s eager to be rid of me. He shoves himself through the opening of the netting like his life depends on it and leaves me in the dust.
“Hey, Sawyer!” Charlotte croons as he walks over to join the party.
My eyes sting.
Well this is just great. I almost feel like I might cry in this bright red Elmo hellhole.
I can imagine Lindsey’s friends asking, “Who’s the weirdo in the bounce house?”
Sawyer and I avoid each other like the plague through the remainder of Cruz’s party. I stick near Queenie and David, he chats with Charlotte and Hunter. In fact, Charlotte is his little shadow. Wherever Sawyer goes, she follows. Not that he seems to mind. I catch him smiling and talking with her, having a great time from the looks of it. I try to focus on enjoying Cruz—spending time with him is all that truly matters—and there are a lot of highlights. I love watching him go after his little smash cake. He fists his tiny fingers, his eyes alight with power once he realizes he has the entire cake to himself. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that grabbing fistfuls isn’t efficient enough, so then he just leans down and plops his face into it, eating with gusto while we all watch on laughing.
Sunday rolls into Monday and I’m still annoyed by my situation with Sawyer. I stayed behind to clean up after Cruz’s party and then I crashed early, exhausted from the weekend. I’m glad Wildflower Weddings has a full docket—I’m eager to dig into work—right up until Queenie tells me we’ve got a rehearsal at Starlight Vineyards this morning.
“A rehearsal on a Monday?” I ask incredulously.
Rehearsals are typically done the day before a wedding, or on rare occasions, two days before, so most times we do them toward the end of the week.
“It’s the only time slot that worked for the bride and groom,” Queenie explains, searching around her desk for something. I’ve learned I shouldn’t offer to help. Queenie insists she has a system in place—controlled chaos, she calls it. “Now where did I put that damn clipboard?”
“Saw it in the bathroom,” Marge remarks from her desk as she continues leafing through a new issue of Bride magazine.
Queenie snaps her fingers. “That’s right. Thanks, Marge.” She runs to get it, quietly ticking off everything else she needs to gather before she leaves. “Wedding party list, iPad, music selections…”
“Well have fun, Queenie! I’ll keep on trying to organize the office,” I call after her.
Queenie laughs on her way back out of the bathroom, clipboard in hand. “Oh ho, no ma’am. I need you there with me. Cassie always helps at rehearsals, and I can’t do it all by myself.”
“Okay, then take Marge.”
The phone rings and Marge answers, “Wildflower Weddings. Marge speaking.” Then, “What?” She hangs up a second later. “People really need to speak up.”
Then the phone rings again. “Wildflower Weddings. Marge speaking.” A beat later, “Oh, you want to book a consultation? Well why didn’t you say so before? Hang on a second.” From the side of her desk, she grabs a huge binder and tugs it on top of her Bride magazine, opening the front cover with a sigh. “We offer a few different levels of service. I’ll start with the least expensive—”