Chapter 19
CALVIN
Three hours until the wedding, and the kitchen looks like a storm hit it.
By the time I turn, she’s holding up a bouquet that could have crawled out of a bad dream. Bright orange lilies tangled with plastic butterflies, fat purple bows, and stalks of dried wheat, like Mardi Gras mugged a thrift store.
“Not just the bridal bouquet. The altar boxes too. All wrong!” She cries.
Cardboard flaps hang open, ribbons spill across the floor, water bleeds down the counter.
Cara, flushed and frantic, clutches the shipping invoice like it’s evidence in a murder trial.
“This. Is. Not. Ours!” Her voice cracks on every syllable.
Maddie sweeps in, half-done curls bouncing, calm where Cara’s frantic. “I always liked wildflowers better anyway.”
Cara rips open another box. More chaos. More plastic. “You can’t mean that. Maddie, this is your wedding. Your grandma’s lace, your bouquet, not some nightmare mix-up. This was supposed to be perfect.”
The last word splinters.
I rub the back of my neck, scanning the wreckage. It’s not just flowers. Cara’s stuck in a meltdown, Riot’s voice echoing from somewhere like chaos has its own gravity, and Maddie looks one apology away from tears.
The arrangements look like something out of an Amish harvest festival.
A voice cuts closer through the noise. Riot stumbles in, shirt half-tucked, hair damp. “That’s a bouquet? Looks like Halloween exploded.”
Cara drops the flowers and sinks to her knees. Petals and ribbons topple with her. “The florist gave me a backup number… and I never wrote it down. I was so sure it was handled. This has never happened before.”
Her hands shake as she stabs at her phone. “I swear I checked three times. Why would anyone send a bouquet with plastic butterflies? They knew this was for a wedding!”
She tears open another box too hard. A few lilies go airborne. I catch one before it hits the floor. Plastic. Cold in my palm. Wrong.
Mrs. Dorsey bustles in.
“Oh, dear! What’s this?” She peers at the bouquets, eyes lighting. “Well… festive, I suppose. Though not exactly wedding chic.”
“It’s supposed to be Maddie’s bouquet,” I tell her. “But it’s all wrong. We’re in desperate need of flowers, fast.”
Her face brightens with sudden inspiration. “You could check the church’s lost and found. I might still have silk roses in the attic.”
Cara stares like she’s suggested a hot-dog bouquet. “This is Maddie’s wedding, Mrs. Dorsey.”
Maddie plucks an orange lily from the disaster, twirls it between her fingers, and almost smiles. “Could be worse. I saw a wedding last week where the bride threw broccoli bouquets.”
Mrs. Dorsey clasps her hands. “They’d make a fine harvest display. Add a scarecrow, a few pumpkins, and voilà, instant autumn.”
For a second, nobody answers. Cara’s jaw is locked tight, her breath uneven.
Maddie crouches, lifts her chin. “It’s okay to feel scared. You wanted it perfect. But sometimes imperfect is more beautiful.”
“Not this time.” Cara grips the bouquet like she could force it into becoming the right one. “I can’t be the reason your wedding pictures look like a circus.”
“Cara,” Maddie says softly, “if the worst thing that happens is wildflowers at the altar, I’m still marrying the right guy.”
The words hover. Cara sags, the bouquet sliding from her hands. Her laugh is shaky, edged with panic.
Maddie squeezes her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Mrs. Dorsey nods like it’s already solved. “Exactly. Last spring I swapped sugar for salt in the cupcakes. Best reaction I ever got.”
Cara’s head jerks up, eyes wild. “This isn’t cupcakes. If we don’t fix it, if the pictures are ruined…”
For a while, I watch them whirl. Cara pacing, Maddie soothing, Riot tossing out unhelpful jokes.
Someone has to pull it together. And somehow, that someone is me.
“You know what…” I say, cutting through the noise. “Every great wedding has a midpoint disaster. It’s practically tradition. And you don’t have to fix it alone. That’s why we’re here.”
Cara blinks at me, lips parted, like she doesn’t quite believe it.
I set the plastic lily on the counter. “Alright. Here’s the plan.
” I clap once, sharp enough to pull them in.
“Riot, you’re with me at the farmer’s market.
We’ll strip it clean of flowers. Cara, dig up that vendor list. Maddie, check the church garden.
Mrs. Dorsey, you’re on silk roses and anything else you can find. ”
Maddie nods. “Done.”
Riot smirks. “Finally, some action.”
Mrs. Dorsey clasps her hands, delighted. “If it’s a wedding and there’s chaos, I’m your woman.”
Cara hesitates, shoulders tense. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
I glance at Jules. “Stick with Cara. She might need backup.”
Cara waves her off. “I’m fine. Relax.”
Jules folds her arms. “I’m not just a decoration, Cara. Tell me what you need.”
Cara’s mouth twitches, then she lets out a shaky laugh. It slips out like a crack in the panic.
Riot grins. “Window seat’s mine. If we’re late, blame Calvin.”
I shake my head, letting everyone find their roles. As I steer Riot toward the door, I glance back once more.“It’s almost 2:30. Be back by 3:30, no later. That gives us one hour to pull this together before the real chaos starts.”
Cara nods, already on the phone, scribbling notes with her pink pen, her shoulders a little taller than before.
Crisis temporarily stabilized.