Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
CURTIS
By some miracle, while at David’s the next morning, Melanie calls the venue they had their engagement party at, and they have a cancellation, so they can fit them right in for a wedding.
And by right in, I mean in two fucking weeks.
I’m not so sure the word “miracle” fits because it will be a miracle if we pull this off.
Melanie and David plan to meet with the venue and contact the tux rental and bridal store, while we get sent on a wild goose chase to book flowers and a cake.
By the time we’ve gone to two different bakeries, neither of which can help us on such short notice, and a florist who has agreed to do the wedding but can’t guarantee what kind of flowers or colors they’ll have as they can only offer the leftovers that won’t be used for the other weddings who booked a year in advance, I’m ready to give up.
And if one more vendor thinks Finn and I are the happy couple, I might start “accidentally” knocking over cakes and dropping vases.
It’s bad enough I let him stay last night. Even worse that I cuddled up to him. That’s not what we are about, and it can’t be. Yet, I can’t help but think the reason I hate everyone assuming we’re the two getting married is because I want that to be the reality.
Obviously, not now, but … it’s like I’m getting a taste of what we could have if I let him in. But why would I believe in a happily ever after when no one has ever offered me one before?
I need to make today about David and Melanie, not me and my issues, but it’s hard with Finn being here with me. Maybe we should split up and cover more ground.
What David and Melanie are trying to do for Beth is admirable, but if Finn and I can’t even do two simple things for them, what kind of dream wedding are they going to have?
“Okay, so they’ll have multicolored flowers at the wedding,” Finn says. “That’s no big deal. They can say that it’s a Pride theme for their gay brothers to show their support … or something.”
I usually love Finn’s optimism, but this time, it’s pissing me off, and I don’t know why. “Sure. Because everyone knows that when a couple gets married, they want to make it all about other people.”
“Fuck. You’re right.”
“Have you heard from your sister at all? She was going to try to get the wedding dress she loved off the rack, right?”
“No good there either,” Finn says, his tone a lot more dejected than it was twenty seconds ago.
“That dress was the only sample they had, so they can’t sell it and have nothing for someone else who wants to try on that particular dress.
So she messaged to say she’s going with the backup dress. The one we all liked but she didn’t.”
While she looked stunning in that dress, she said it was uncomfortably tight and she couldn’t dance in it. Her main requirement she wanted for her dress was to be able to dance.
“We have to get one thing right,” Finn says. “Are there any more wedding bakeries around here?”
Hell if I know, but then I get an idea. “What about a regular bakery? There’s a cupcake place Beth loves to go …
or used to love. I don’t even know if it’s still around.
But we could get one of those tower things online with quick shipping, put cupcakes on it, and that could be their cake. Wasn’t that a huge trend for a while?”
“Yes. Let’s go there. And if worse comes to worst, I can bake two hundred cupcakes. I’ve never baked in my life, but how hard can it be?” And optimist Finn is back.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
We’re in luck, and the cupcake place is where it used to be and is still operational.
I remember going over to David’s house after school every day, and Beth would give us each a cupcake while we studied or played video games or whatever we were doing.
It was one per day, even when we asked for more.
It’s probably good she only allowed us one per day because they were giant, but she was always stocked with them.
She single-handedly might have kept this place in business over the years.
I’m kicking myself that I didn’t think of this sooner because it not only fixes the cake problem but would mean a lot to David as well.
I’m nervous, though, as we approach the counter, because two hundred cupcakes is a big ask with two weeks’ notice. That’s one hundred extra cupcakes per week this poor woman would have to make.
The woman behind the counter is the same person who ran the store way back when. David and I came with Beth a couple of times when she’d pick up her boxes of cakes, but I doubt she would remember me. Especially now, twenty years later.
She greets us with a warm smile. “Hi, how can I help you?”
Seeing as we’re zero for three today, I pull out my charm. “We have a bit of a crazy request, and we’re hoping you can help.”
She smiles wider. “Uh-oh. I usually like a challenge, but why do I get the feeling I’m going to faint at whatever you have to say?”
“You see, there’s a wedding coming up. A last-minute kind of thing.”
Her face drops. “How last-minute?”
“Two weeks.”
She laughs manically. “Look, I’m happy for you both, and this isn’t a ‘I refuse to cater a gay wedding,’ but two weeks is—”
I grit my teeth to not let my frustration show. “It’s not actually for us. We’re the brothers of the bride and groom.”
She looks confused. “You’re all … related? Now, that’s the kind of wedding bakeries should be boycotting.”
Finn hurries to explain. “I’m the bride’s brother. Curtis here is the groom’s. Although not technically, because David and he aren’t blood relat—”
“Wait. David and Curtis?” She looks me up and down. “Beth’s kids?”
I cock my head. “You remember Beth? It’s been years since she’s asked me to bring her here.” In fact, the last time I offered, she got angry and asked why she’d want to eat a cupcake when she wasn’t a seven-year-old child.
“Are you kidding me? Beth was one of my very best customers for years. When David left for university, she stopped buying so much, but she came in at least once a week to buy a coffee and cupcake. Until …”
“A few years ago?” I guess.
She sets her hands loosely on her hips. “I always wondered what made her stop coming by. I thought she might have moved.”
“She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s after a long battle with memory issues.
We thought she was too young for it, and at first, her family doctor thought it was caused by menopause, so it took way too long to get her treatment.
” And I still partly blame myself for not pushing for more tests.
The thing with Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia is that it’s irreversible.
So all that time she could have been on medication to slow it down, she missed out on because I didn’t push her doctor to look into it more.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that. And it’s David who’s getting married, you said?”
“Yeah. He moved back to be with his mom, and they weren’t planning to get hitched until next year, but they figure with Beth’s declining memory, and their venue having a cancellation—”
“How many cupcakes will you need?”
I glance at Finn, and it’s a silent battle over who will break the news to her.
“Two hundred,” Finn says quietly.
“Fuck,” the older woman says, and it makes me laugh. Old people swearing are as cute as babies doing it. Don’t know why.
“Or … as many as you could manage? From memory, the venue can do other desserts, and not everyone eats wedding cake. Plus, with it being such short notice, not that many guests will be able to make it, so really, anything you could do would be much appreciated. And cost isn’t a factor, so you could charge us through the nose.
” I’ll just pay it and won’t tell David and Melanie how much it costs.
“I could do an extremely basic sponge with buttercream frosting and use an edible shiny white spray on top that will make the frosting glisten like snow. They will be very basic though. None of the filled ones you see in the case here.”
A relieved breath leaves me while Finn jumps up and down like he’s meeting Santa.
“That’s perfect,” he says. “More than we could hope for. Oh my God, you’re an angel. May I hug you?”
“Sure. Get around here.” She rounds the counter and meets him halfway.
They hug, while I think of the next thing we need to knock off this list. While the dress wasn’t our responsibility, the thought of Melanie not wearing her dream dress doesn’t sit well with me.
We have substitute flowers, substitute cake, so I want to try to get her one thing that she doesn’t have to compromise on. And after getting this yes, I have a bit of a confidence boost.
The cupcake boutique is only a block away from the bridal store, so I tell Finn that I’ll be right back and for them to iron out the details about pickup and dates and whatever other information we need.
I jog down the sidewalk and cross the road, turning left onto the street with the bridal store. I’m sweaty when I get there, but I’m riding high from the cupcake place, and I’m not going to leave until I get what I want. What Melanie wants.
The store attendant is at the register, talking to a bride and going through the process of how long it takes until the dress will be in, and then there are alterations, blah, blah, blah.
The longer she talks, the less confident I become, so I turn to the rows of dresses and start looking through them, trying to find the one Melanie loved.
“I’ll be right with you,” the attendant calls out in a tone that very much sounds like “Stop touching the merchandise with your dirty hands!”
I keep looking anyway, ignoring Beth’s motherly voice in my head saying I’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
I find the dress just as the attendant finishes up with the bride and approaches me.
“That won’t suit your neckline at all.”
I’m about to tell her it’s not for me when I turn and see her smirking. Oh, right. Ha. Ha. Funny.
“You would’ve got a call or visit from my friend Melanie about this dress this morning?”
“I did,” she says flatly.
“I know you’ve already said no to her buying the sample because it will leave you without a dress for other brides to try on for the next three months while we wait for Melanie’s to arrive, but I have a proposition for you.”
“Which is?”
“What if we pay to rent this dress for the weekend of the wedding? You’ll only be missing it for the Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and then come Monday morning, I will bring it right back to you.
Or if you let it go for an entire week, I can return it fully dry-cleaned.
That way, Melanie gets to have the dress she loves, and you get paid twice, once for the rental and once for the dress she’s already ordered.
It’s a win-win. You can even keep the dress she ordered, and she’ll take the already worn sample dress when the brand-new one comes in. ”
She’s thinking about it, I can tell.
“I’ll pay you fifty percent of the purchase price to rent it for a weekend.”
“Deal.” She lights up. “You can pick it up on the Friday and bring it back on the Monday. I have a dry cleaner I send my samples to, so I’ll take care of that.”
I know I’m getting extorted, but I don’t care, and at least she’s offering to take care of the dry cleaning.
This wedding is going to be stressful for all of us, and I have the funds sitting in my account waiting for a house I’m probably never going to commit to buying because I can’t commit to fucking anything.
I’ve never hated that about me until possibly this very moment.
I head back to the cupcake shop with a spring in my step, and when I see Finn waiting outside for me, standing at his full height for once with his hair blown back from his face, my heart skips a beat. The self-loathing kicks up a notch. I keep trying to ignore it.
“Where did you go off to?” he asks.
“Oh, you know. Only saving the day.”
“How so?”
I’m triumphant as I say, “I got the bridal store to agree to rent Melanie’s dream dress to her, so she at least doesn’t have to compromise on that.”
“Okay, I just hugged the cupcake lady for five minutes. You’re getting ten.” Finn tackles me in a hug, and I have to step backward to keep my balance, but then I fall into his arms and let it happen, only hating myself more and more with each minute that passes.
I’m getting too close.
Something between us has to give, and I know me. I’m too stubborn to let it be my rules.
It might be time to take a few steps back. Literally and figuratively.