Chapter Fifteen
Amiya
W e walk inside Fizzy Kate’s—an upscale café, famous for its champagne cocktails—forty-five minutes late and are escorted to a table in the back of the restaurant, where Avie’s mother and cousins, as well as Sebastian’s mother and grandmother, are seated.
“Glad you could join us, ladies,” Naomie says as we approach.
“It’s my fault. I forgot to set my alarm last night, and I overslept. My apologies,” I say as the waitress sets a glass of water and a menu in front of me. “Thank you. Can I go ahead and place a drink order?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“I’ll take one of the mango mimosas, please.”
“Anything for you ladies?” she asks Avie and Eden.
“I’ll have the same,” Avie replies.
“And I’ll just have a coffee for now,” Eden says.
“I’ll go get those in and be right back for your food order.”
She leaves, and I pick up the menu.
“So, what did we miss?” I ask as I peruse the selections.
“Nothing yet. We didn’t want to discuss anything without the bride,” Sabel answers.
The waitress returns promptly with our beverages, and we order breakfast.
Everyone else has eaten, so Naomie calls our attention to the business at hand as she pulls from her bag a hunter-green leather planner with the words Avie’s Wedding Day embossed on the cover.
“Ladies, we have a few details to nail down,” she says as she opens the book. “We need to finalize with Sunshine & Sugar Bakery, the florist, and give a final head count to the caterer. I can call them this evening after I check on a few RSVPs.”
“Amiya, Eden, and I are going to stop by the bakery to pick out the groom’s cake for Sebastian on our way back to the island. I can finalize the wedding cake order while we’re there.”
“Groom’s cake?” Naomie questions.
“It’s for the rehearsal dinner,” Avie tells her. “I’m thinking of a boat or a big fish or something like that.”
“Oh, a big sailfish that’s red when you cut into it would be perfect,” Sabel says.
“Yeah, I like that. I’ll see if she can do a sailfish,” Avie agrees.
“Okay, that checks off the bakery. Let’s talk about flowers. Milly and I are stopping by the florist to place the final order on our way home,” Naomie says as she pulls a sheet of paper from her planner. “They sent me these archway options.”
She slides the pamphlet across the table.
Avie picks it up and glances over the photos. There are a variety of metal and wooden lattice arches to choose from.
“Actually, Mom, Donnie Dale is making a driftwood arch for us,” Avie says.
Naomie’s brow furrows. “Donnie Dale?”
“He’s Sebby’s oldest friend, and he makes beautiful driftwood pieces. Tables, chairs, rockers, you name it,” Sabel informs her.
“I see. Can I get his information from you so I can contact him and let him know where to send his invoice?” Naomie asks.
“He’s not charging us, Mom. It’s his wedding gift to us. After the ceremony, he and Sebby are going to move it to Leia’s fairy garden.”
Naomie’s face softens. “How nice. Well, I’ll just let the florist know that we’ll need flowers for the arch, but not the arch itself. For Leia, I had them special-order champagne-scented rose petals,” she says proudly.
Eden leans over and whispers in my ear, “What’s wrong with rose-scented rose petals?”
I cut my eyes to her.
“Not bougie enough for Momma C,” I whisper back.
“Now, let’s talk bouquets. I know the color scheme is sangria and rose gold. What flowers are we thinking?”
“I’d like my bouquet to be white tulips and maybe purple dahlias,” Avie says.
“Oh, purple dahlias would match the sangria color of the bridesmaid dresses perfectly,” Naomie agrees as she writes in her planner.
“And the girls’ bouquets can be the same, but it’s fine if they use white roses for those, if that’s cheaper than tulips,” Avie continues.
“You don’t like roses?” Milly asks.
Avie shakes her head. “I’m allergic.”
“Not allergic, sweetie. Their aroma just makes you nauseous,” Naomie corrects.
“Really?” Sabel asks.
“Yes, they always have. It’s the darnedest thing,” Naomie says. “Now, what are we thinking for the centerpieces? Did you look at the photos I sent you?”
Avie nods.
Naomie pulls her phone out and turns it so we can all have a look. “We can do these branches and have them sprayed gold and wrap them with flowers and hanging crystals.”
I lean in and narrow my eyes at the photo. “Wow, a tree for a centerpiece. Seems practical,” I mumble.
“I really liked the mason jars with the sand and seashells and the green and teal hydrangeas,” Avie says.
Naomie’s lips turn down, but she tucks the disappointment in quickly. “How about white and purple hydrangeas? I can have a rose-gold ribbon glued around the top,” she suggests.
Avie nods. “Yeah, that sounds pretty, Mom.”
“And you’re okay with the hydrangea and eucalyptus drape for the bride and groom table?” she asks hopefully.
“Yes.”
Naomie beams at her as she shuts the book. “All right. I think we’ve got it.”
“Hallelujah!” I shout as I raise my mimosa to the center of the table.
That was fairly painless.
Everyone picks theirs up and toasts with me.
Avie is all smiles.
“What about the bridal luncheon?” Lisa, Avie’s cousin, asks.
“That’s planned for the Wednesday before the big day. I’ll text everyone the details soon,” Avie replies.
“And the bachelorette party?” Savannah asks.
“I’m taking care of those plans,” I say.
Avie’s eyes cut to me.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I mutter under my breath.
I turn my attention back to Lisa and Savannah.
“I’m still hammering out the details, but I’ll let you know something at dinner.”
Lisa and Savannah asked Avie and me out for cocktails and dinner at a new place that just opened on the west side of the island. It has a great menu and an oceanfront bar.
“And don’t forget, the next dance lesson is Tuesday evening at seven,” Eden chirps.
“Yes, how did that go last night?” Sabel asks.
“Pretty good. Anson is lighter on his feet than expected. Sebastian got the steps down pat, and Lennon, well, he’s gonna be a bigger nut to crack,” Eden says.
I choke on my mimosa.
“Are you okay?” Sabel asks, patting me on the back.
“Yes, sorry. Went down the wrong pipe,” I sputter.
“Was he that bad?” Milly asks, concern for her son apparent.
“No, no. He’s just a bit stiff—that’s all.”
I bite my lip to keep from giggling.
Avie kicks my shin under the table.
“It’s the military in him. I swear the carefree boy I raised is still in there somewhere. Don’t let him get in his own way. Stick it to him.”
I have to bury my face in my elbow as I stand.
“Where’s the ladies’ room?” I ask.
Naomie points toward the bar area.
“Thanks.”
After breakfast, Avie, Eden, and I stop and meet with Jessica, the owner of Sunshine & Sugar Bakery, who has a tablet with photos of decorating options.
Avie’s eyes light up when we’re shown a four-tier cake covered in a soft white buttercream with a delicate blue watercolor-washed bottom tier to give it a splash of color. Gold-painted coral and dainty oyster shells, made of sugar, with inlaid pearl candies climb the sides.
“That’s the one. It’s perfect,” she gasps.
“It’s stunning,” I agree.
“Okay, are you guys ready to taste some cakes?” Jessica asks.
“Yes, but first, can you make a cake to look like a sailfish?” Avie asks.
The two of them discuss the design for Sebastian’s groom’s cake and then Jessica’s staff brings out several trays filled with tiny bite-sized cupcakes. Each one is labeled with the flavor of the sponge and filling and is crowned with a dollop of buttercream frosting.
She leaves us to it, and we take our time sampling each one.
Avie settles on the flavors for each tier—coconut with lime curd, espresso chocolate with fudge ganache, vanilla bean with raspberry gel, and Sebastian’s favorite lemon poppy seed for the top.
All tasks accomplished, we drop Eden off at her studio, and Avie and I head back to the cottage to change into swimsuits and spend the rest of our afternoon by Sebby and Sabel’s pool.
“We need to discuss your bachelorette weekend,” I state.
Avie plops down in the lounge chair beside me. “Ugh, do we have to have one? Can’t we just make ice cream sundaes topped with RumChata or something?” she asks.
I roll to my side, slide my sunglasses down my nose, and glare at her. “You’re joking, right?”
“Not really,” she mumbles.
“Girl, I didn’t get to throw you a party the last time. And I’m not saying that’s the reason the marriage didn’t last, but there’s no proof it’s not,” I say.
She rolls her eyes.
“Come on. Let me do this,” I plead.
“Fine. But promise me you’ll keep it small. The last thing I want to do is spend the weekend before my wedding with a bunch of people I haven’t seen or heard from since college,” she requests.
“Ew, why would I invite any of those bitches?” I scoff.
“I don’t know. Why did my mother insist on inviting everyone I’ve ever met to the wedding?”
I smirk as I slide my sunglasses back up and roll onto my back. “You did it to yourself with that shotgun wedding in New York. Now, Mommy Dearest and I are making up for it,” I quip.
“Great,” she mumbles.
“I promise it’ll be fun. And I’ll only invite Eden, Lisa, and Savannah. Deal?”
“Deal.”