Chapter 10
TEN
MOLLY
Bess invites me to Sunday brunch. I should decline, but I haven’t seen her since the wedding dress debacle (don’t even get me started on what happened at Vera Wang), and despite her constant invitations to lunch, I’ve been flat-out at work planning a new fundraiser for the community center.
“Babe!” she calls, waving from across the restaurant. “Hurry! We have news!”
Bess is someone who speaks in exclamation marks. Everything she says sounds exciting, new, and urgent. Even asking for a tampon sounds like a life-or-death situation, as though her uterus might fall out if she doesn’t get one immediately.
I settle at the table and realize her definition of a “quiet brunch” includes the entire wedding party—all eighteen of us. Josh has saved me a seat. I squeeze in between him and Candy, shooting her a polite smile.
“Thanks,” I whisper, sliding into place. Josh’s thigh presses against mine.
“No problem, Pahe. But they already ordered. I got you waffles and bacon, and a coffee.” His hand brushes my thigh, sending a pleasant wave of heat straight to my core. I shiver, shooting him a secret smile. He grins back, his whiskey-colored eyes heating.
“You’re just in time for the announcement,” Candy says, interrupting our silent exchange.
I turn to her, noticing her strained expression. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy,” she says flatly, nodding toward Bess at the far end of the table. “But she’s about to drop a bombshell.”
“How do you know?” Josh asks, leaning across me.
“Call it intuition based on years of data collection.”
Bess and Pete stand, Bess tapping her mimosa glass with a spoon to grab everyone’s attention.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Pete begins, wrapping an arm around his fiancée. “We just wanted to thank you for agreeing to be in our wedding party. You’re our nearest and dearest, and we can’t wait to share our special day with you.”
“So far, so good,” Josh mutters from the side of his mouth. I hide a giggle behind my coffee cup.
“We’ve finally decided on the venue and date, and we wanted you all to be the first to know,” Bess announces, practically sparkling with excitement.
They exchange a look, then shout together, “May eighteenth!”
Everyone claps, and I quickly calculate if that date clashes with any events. Hopefully, by then, the new community center will be breaking ground, but otherwise, I think I’m in the clear.
“That’s good,” I whisper to Josh. “It’ll give us enough time to figure out what to get them for—”
“Wait, this year?” Candy interrupts, her face paling.
“Of course not,” I reply, laughing. “That’s less than two months away. They’d be—”
“Oh, not next year. This year,” Bess calls, her voice carrying over the table.
The chatter dies, and we all stare at her and Pete in collective horror.
She shrugs, still beaming. “The venue had two options: May this year or December three years from now. And the dress just won’t work for a December wedding.”
“And we don’t want to wait that long,” Pete adds, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve kept her waiting long enough.”
“Fuck,” Josh mutters under his breath.
I do some quick math. It’s March twenty-third today, which means we have exactly eight weeks to pull off the wedding Bess has been dreaming of. I’ve seen her Pinterest board—a wedding that grand and over-the-top is next to impossible without throwing a ridiculous amount of manpower and money at it.
My stomach sinks. She’s going to want all the pre-wedding events—bachelorette parties, kitchen teas, tastings, fittings, everything. And as maid of honor, I’m responsible for planning and executing every single one of them.
Bess picks up a stack of booklets and starts handing them out.
“As you can see, we’ve delegated tasks to everyone.
We’ve also included all of our event dates—including tastings, fittings, and, of course, the parties.
” She bounces on her feet, flashing a dazzling grin.
“I’ve set up a website and a group chat.
I’ll send the calendar invites shortly. The videographer will be capturing every part of this journey, so enjoy brunch, and we’ll get started shortly. ”
“Get started?” I ask, staring at the booklet in my hand. It even has bios, photos, contact details, and measurements for every member of the wedding party.
“This is some next-level Bridezilla shit,” Candy mutters, flipping to page three of her booklet.
“We’re attending the engagement photo shoot today.
” She glances at me, flicking her hair back with an impatient hand.
“I’m never going to make half of these events.
She’s going to freak. I should pull out. ”
“Bess, how many people are you inviting?” I ask, setting the booklet down.
Bess and Pete exchange a look. “The venue can fit eight hundred, but our guest list is sitting at about five.”
I blink. “F-f-five hundred?”
Bess smiles, resting her hand on Pete’s arm. “It’s a great opportunity for Petey to invite all his business contacts. They’ll feel special, and we’ll get some networking opportunities.”
“Ahlemna,” Josh mutters beside me, reaching for the mimosa jug. “I wasn’t planning on drinking today, but this is…” He trails off as he pours a glass and downs it in one go.
Breakfast arrives, a waiter placing a beautiful plate of waffles and bacon in front of me. I shovel a bite into my mouth, drowning my anxiety in syrup and carbs. Beside me, Candy attacks her pancakes with her fork, muttering curses between bites.
The videographer arrives, followed by an official photographer, three makeup artists, and a stylist.
Oh yes, a stylist. She comes complete with backup outfits for everyone in the bridal party.
“You know how I said the speed dating was hell?” Josh whispers three hours later through gritted, smiling teeth. We’re in front of the photographer, all of us arranged in different “casual” poses that feel anything but casual.
“Mm?” I hum, barely moving my lips.
“I take it back. This is hell.”
I laugh, which immediately causes the photographer to lower his camera in frustration.
“I said, don’t move!”
“Sorry.” I bump Josh lightly, trying to stifle my amusement as I shift back into position. “Thanks for that.”
The day drags on, and any hope I have of doing groceries, relaxing, catching up on work, or even diving into Netflix is squashed when a caterer arrives to set up an elaborate picnic scene outside.
Finally, as the sun dips low in the sky and the shadows stretch long across the grass, Bess and Pete call it a day. The wedding party trudges off, exhausted, while the happy couple heads back to their apartment for a couples’ shoot.
“When I get married,” Josh says, pulling out his phone to order us a car, “it’s going to be a small, intimate wedding. And I’m not subjecting anyone to photos outside of the actual wedding day.”
“What if your future wife wants something like this?” I tease, gesturing at the rest of the worn-out bridal party. “She might want a five-hundred-person wedding with a twelve-tier cake and a horse-drawn carriage.”
“Do you?” He gives me a look so hot it practically burns.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “No.”
“Happy with an intimate wedding?”
The blush deepens. “Yes.”
He watches me for a long moment, raw desire flickering in his darkening eyes. “Honeymoon?”
“Somewhere warm,” I whisper, feeling my body lean toward his almost involuntarily. “With a place to swim.”
“Wedding outside, honeymoon somewhere we can walk around naked. Got it.”
A car pulls up to the curb, and Josh checks his phone before nodding. “This is us.” He opens the door for me, letting me slide in first.
“Where t—” The driver stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening. “Mr. Greenfeld! Sir!”
I blink, recognizing the voice. What are the odds? We’ve landed back in the car of the aspiring New Jersey actor.
“Mr. Greenfeld, I took your advice! I got a role! It’s a walk-on in a crime show. Even got some lines and everything.” He holds up a hand for a high five.
Josh and I both slap his palm, genuinely happy for him as he launches into a blow-by-blow of the audition process.
When we arrive at my apartment, I thank the driver, and Josh and I step out into the cool night air.
Hands tucked into his coat pockets, Josh stands on the sidewalk, staring up at my apartment building with a small frown.
“What?” I ask, stepping beside him.
“You don’t suit this place.” He nods toward the building. “It’s too soulless for you.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Try telling my salary that.”
“I put in an offer on the brownstone.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Good,” I whisper, warmth blooming low in my stomach. “I like it.”
“You wanna move in?”
“No.” I laugh softly. “But thank you for the offer.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not above using my library to seduce you.”
I laugh again, but the sound escapes as a gasp when he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. He bends his head, pausing just a fraction away from my lips.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, his voice low and rough.
My heart skips. “I want it.”
He kisses me, and the world tilts. He tastes like sunshine and spice, and I can’t help the soft whimper that escapes as he deepens the kiss. Heat thrums through me, a delicious ache pooling low and deep. My fingers clutch at his coat, pulling him closer as if I can’t get enough.
His hands shift to my hips, steady and firm, and he slowly eases us back.
I make a noise of protest, but I let him pull away, his forehead resting against mine as we both catch our breath.
“Come to the Cove with me,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine. “Next weekend. We’ll have the house to ourselves.” His lips quirk into a grin. “And I’ve already checked—we don’t have a wedding event that weekend.”
“Thank God,” I mutter, earning a quiet laugh from him.
He tilts my chin up with his thumb, his touch featherlight against my skin. “Say yes.”
With my heart in my throat and all my courage, I give him my answer.
“Yes.”