20. Cherise
Chapter twenty
Cherise
“Wake up, bitches! It’s party time!”
My voice echoed down the villa hallway. I stood at the center, barefoot, holding an armful of glittery sashes, a satin robe barely tied, and a head full of curls that refused to behave. Ella Mai blared from the speaker on the kitchen island behind me, and I was two sips into my first mimosa.
One by one, the doors cracked open.
Layla peeked out, mascara smudged. Chelsea squinted. Tessa yawned and rubbed her eyes. Savannah waltzed out as if she woke up an hour earlier and already had a full face of makeup and fresh curls.
I think I just vomited a little in my mouth.
Then there was Grace—bless her soul—who stumbled out with one lash hanging on for dear life.
“What time is it?” Chelsea croaked.
“Time to hydrate and celebrate!” I sang, already looping a hot pink sash around her neck.
“Bride’s Bitch” in gold lettering stitched with purpose.
I gracefully slipped the next sash over Tessa.
“Cherise, I swear—” Chelsea began.
“No threats until after brunch. House rule.”
I spun and tossed the next sash onto Layla’s shoulders as if I were knighting her. “You too, lightweight.”
She smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“Oh, you damn skippy it is. Someone has to keep up with me,” I said, as I wrapped my favorite sash around my favorite person. “Wife of the party.”
Grace’s lips quivered as if she wanted to cry. “This is… actually cute.”
“I know. Don’t sound so surprised, boo. You know I got you.”
I had one more sash, and I had all the audacity to chuck it at Savannah, but I was going to be the responsible adult… for now.
I walked over to her, placed the sash over her shoulders, and said nothing. Neither did she.
I reached back into my box and pulled out the next item on the list. Hangover kits. I walked by, dropping glittery zip bags filled with electrolytes, gum, liquid IV, a mini fan, and a tiny bottle of Advil into each girl’s hands.
Practical and adorable.
Tessa eyed the glittery masterpiece. “These are so cute, but hangover kits? Should I be afraid?”
I shot her a smirk over my shoulder. “Very.”
Finally, I whipped out the box of bobble toys. “Big booty hula dancers for everyone. Twerk when shaken. Let them be your beacon of what you should be doing before this night is over.” Everyone walked over and grabbed a doll.
Grace snorted. “You are out of control,” she said as she flicked her hula doll.
“Always, now move your future-wifey ass and get dressed. Brunch is calling.”
As they filed into the kitchen to grab their coffee and wonder why they were friends with me, I leaned against the wall, proud as hell. The day was just getting started, and they had no idea what I had in store.
***
I shut the door behind me and tiptoed into our room like a predator.
Leo was still sprawled out across the bed, one arm flung over his face, shielding himself from the morning sun. Shirtless. Sheets half-tangled. Looking next level hot for someone who wasn’t even awake yet.
Without warning, I ran and launched myself onto the mattress, full body bounce and everything.
“What the fuck?!” Leo shot up, a look of horror all over his face. Until he realized it was me, and his expression flattened.
I died laughing as he plopped back down into the mattress.
“Oh, God. You’re a morning person,” he mumbled, pulling the cover over his face.
I grinned and climbed on top, straddling him like I was going to ride him like a horse, which come to think of it, wouldn’t be the worst way to start the morning. “Wake up, boo. You’re about to have brunch with bitches.”
He pulled the cover down just enough to peek out. “Please tell me that’s not the official name of the event.”
“It is now.” I hopped off him to pull out the sash I’d saved just for him. It was just as glittery as ours and absolutely unnecessary.
He lifted his head and glared at it. “Does that say, Bridesmaid Support Staff?”
“Honorary title, wear with pride,” I said sweetly, and looped it over his head as if he’d won an award for not running away yet.
He groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
I placed a hand over my chest in mock surprise. “Aw, you think I’m cute?” I wiggled my brows.
“I think you're fine as hell, and you know this,” he said, chucking a pillow at me, which I successfully dodged.
Damn, this man knew exactly what to say to make me want to jump his bones.
But that will have to wait.
I had a jam-packed schedule planned for today, and everything needed to be perfect. This was Grace’s last hurrah before the big day, and I wanted to make it special. So, my thirst was going to have to be put on hold until tomorrow.
Or at least attempt to be.
I clapped once—loud. “Alright, up and at em. Chop chop, Bridesmaid Support Staff.”
He groaned again. “I’m filing an HR complaint.”
“And I’ll frame it,” I sassed back with a hand on my hip.
He finally rolled out of the bed with the drama of a man being drafted into war. He shuffled toward his suitcase, pink sash still hanging off his chest.
I grinned as I watched him go. A 6-foot-3 man, barefoot and shirtless, in nothing but basketball shorts and glitter.
This brunch was already off to a great start.
***
By the time we stepped out onto the patio, the gang was already halfway through their first round of mimosas, and the big booty bobble toys were twerking as the centerpieces.
“Finally!” Chelsea shouted, throwing a piece of pineapple at us. “Leave it to you to rush us, then show up late. Did you two fall into a black hole, or were you making out again?”
“We were minding our business,” I said, catching the fruit mid-air and popping it into my mouth.
Leo trailed behind me, freshly showered, wearing navy swim trunks and a crisp white linen button-up with the pink “Bridesmaid Support Staff” sash still slung diagonally across his chest.
The audacity of him to look sexy while being accessorized like a drunk bridesmaid. Although… it did make me feel warm inside that he wore it to brunch. What this man wouldn’t do to make me smile.
“She made you wear a sash, too, huh?” Layla snickered.
Leo didn’t miss a beat. “It completes the outfit.”
Eric made a whipped sound. “Man’s committed to the bit.”
“He’s committed to me,” I countered, scooping fruit onto my plate. “That’s why he’s here. Emotional support boyfriend.”
“Support staff, apparently,” Leo corrected, gesturing to the glitter across his chest. “The title was assigned without consent.”
Greg leaned back in his chair, sunglasses on. “You’re still winning, bro. You get to enjoy Hawaii and stare at her all day.”
Savannah’s fork clinked against her plate. “And tell me just how you think staring at Cherise all day is winning.”
Greg froze.
Logan didn’t even look up from his plate. “Just apologize, man. There is no other way to survive that sentence.”
Greg coughed. “Sorry, babe, winning for him, not me, obviously.”
Savannah rolled her eyes and stabbed into her strawberry.
Leo pulled out my chair, and I sat, trying my best not to laugh.
“You two are glowing, though,” Grace said with a grin. “Is that post-shower-afterglow?”
Leo dropped into the seat beside me and immediately reached for his glass and the mimosa pitcher. “Y’all need hobbies.”
“No, they need champagne,” I said, clinking his glass with mine.
The brunch spread was ridiculous in the best way. Fruit towers, croissants, little parfaits in glass jars, and a pancake stack so tall it practically flirted with the ceiling. I’d worked with the staff on it ahead of time; clearly, aesthetics mattered.
“Okay, before we get too toasted,” I said, standing up and dramatically clearing my throat, “I would like to formally welcome everyone to the official Bride’s Bitches Brunch. Because this weekend, we are all the Bride’s Bitches.”
Logan lifted a finger about to interject, but I cut him off. “Yep. Especially you, Logan. Happy wife, happy life starts early, trust me.”
Everyone laughed.
“Anything Grace wants, she gets. Anything she needs, we make it happen. No questions asked.”
Greg started a slow clap…then stopped when he realized he was the only one.
“Later today,” I continued, “we’ll enjoy a group wine tasting, followed by dinner at a luau where fire will be involved. So please, no flammable wigs.”
That got another laugh.
“After that, the groomsmen and groom will do their thing, and the bride and her bad bitches will do ours.”
“Yas!” Chelsea cheered.
Grace took a long sip of her mimosa, eyes narrowed at me. “Why do I feel like you’ve got more chaos planned than that?”
I leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Because you know me and you're right.”
I lifted my glass. “Here is to Grace and Logan, may tonight be legendary, and may it not end in a jail cell.”
Everyone paused.
I sipped my mimosa with a mischievous smile. “You’ll understand later. Now dig in!”
“Bless,” Layla mumbled, rubbing her temple. “I need two more rounds before I’m ready to be emotionally available.”
Grace laughed, finally relaxing in her seat. “Okay, I’ll admit it—this whole setup is perfect.”
I gasped, hand on my chest. “Excuse me. Did I just get a compliment?”
“Yes,” Grace said. “Singular. Don’t let it go to your head.”
I smiled and sat back. “Already there and getting comfortable.”
“But for real. Cherise, everything has been perfect. I am so happy and so blessed to have you as my maid of honor…It means a lot.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Don’t get mushy on me,” I said, side-eyeing her. “You know I’m allergic.”
“Too bad,” Grace said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Thank you, Cherise, really.”
I waved her off, but my voice softened. “Anything for you, babe.”
“She’s not lying.” Layla cut in. “You really did your thing. Can you be my maid of honor when I get married? I just need to get engaged first... Oh, and find a man who is crazy enough to deal with me.”
I laughed. "Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone tonight at the wine tasting or at the luau.”
She raised her glass to her lips. “Let’s not hold our breath.”
Savannah’s voice cut in—sweet on the surface, sharp underneath.