Chapter Nine
Naomi
I’m not a huge fan of flowers, but if it gets me out of that cabin and away from Graham’s staring for a few hours then I guess I’m frolicking through these dirty fields in three-hundred-dollar Gucci boots.
Nelly got the idea from some social media account she’s followed almost religiously since Elias proposed.
This influencer had made a day out of all of her bridesmaids getting together and going to a flower farm- yes, it’s a thing- and picking the flowers for their bouquets themselves.
Those bridesmaids then get to take those flowers and craft their own bouquets.
That’s right. We get to spend hours in this wet, muddy field picking fucking flowers only to have to figure out how to put those flowers together into an acceptable bouquet that will then be transported to New York for the actual ceremony.
And, yes, I have asked half a dozen times why they didn’t just hire a florist local to the church.
They did. This is just for the bouquets.
At least Clara and Nelly seem to be having a good time. Their buckets are so full of colorful flowers I feel a little pathetic when I look at mine.
“Picking flowers not your thing?”
I look over at one of Elias’ sisters who will be joining us at the alter in only five days. The other couldn’t make it out to Vermont because of her kids’ summer school schedule but will be at the wedding when we head into New York.
“Not much for dirt and mud,” I correct, looking sadly at my ruined boots. “If she wasn’t so goddamn cute, I would murder her.”
We both watch Nelly squeal and run away laughing from a singular bumblebee. “She is a little spitfire.” The sister holds out her hand to me, long elegant fingers calloused by whatever she does for work. “I’m Ivelisse. I don’t think we were ever properly introduced back there.”
She gestures across the road to the little shop and I nod, taking her hand. “Naomi. Are you staying with us for the week?”
Snorting, she shakes her head. “No, I have to get back for work tomorrow night. Elias was kind enough to pay for my ride so I could come join you all today. Although, I have to admit,” she holds up her equally empty pail. “Flowers aren’t really my thing either.”
“Thank God,” I laugh, looping my arm through hers. “I hate being singled out.”
Ivelisse chuckles, letting me lead her through the same rows of flowers we’ve both traversed a dozen times already. Every now and then one of us will stop to shear a bud we didn’t notice before.
“How do you know Poppy?” She asks me, placing a daisy cutting in her bucket.
I count out the number of flowers I have of the different sizes and colors we were designated to use. “We’ve been best friends since middle school, all three of us. We’re basically sisters.”
“How sweet,” she smiles. “So, you must also know my nephew pretty well.”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble which makes her laugh. “We were never the best of friends. I only tolerate him for Nelly’s sake, and now I guess for Elias.”
Ivelisse smiles up at the sun as the Vermont breeze rustles through her pony-tail.
She looks a lot like Elias, but you know, feminine.
She has elegant curves beneath her sundress and a lovely natural tan.
Her eyes are the same whiskey brown, and her hair is a dark brown to caramel blonde ombré.
Her smile is just as bright as her brothers, with all of that Sanots charisma he’s capitalized on in his career.
“I’m so glad they’ve managed to patch things up.
Ay, gracias a Dios” she tells me. “Elias loves that boy so fiercely, watching them drift apart was heartbreaking. Mama cried every time she asked Elias when they’d last spoken.
The number just going up and up…” Ivelisse sighs.
“But eso ya es passado, now they’re back on good terms, right? ”
I nod, reflecting on a bed of lilacs in front of me. “As good as they can be given the circumstances,” I remind her.
She waves her hand as if it doesn’t matter at all that Elias is giving it to his son’s former girlfriend better than Cristian ever did. “Love is love, querida. Cristian is a good-looking boy, he will find someone new.”
“Sure.”
“And that little one,” Ivelisse nods toward Clara. “She’s married to my cousin, yes?” I nod, squatting to sheer a bud. “How are they doing?”
I snort. “They are disgustingly in love.” I rise to my feet. “To save you the trouble of being any nosier about your family’s relationships- everyone is horrifically and wretchedly in love with their wives and fiancées.”
She looks mildly perturbed that I stopped her probing and I inwardly cringe. Sometimes I forget to lock old, bitter Naomi in her cage and she just rages against whoever happens to be closest whether I enjoy their company or not. It’s a miracle I’ve kept the friends I have this long.
“What about you then?” Ivelisse asks.
My brow furrows, my eyes on the flowers at my feet. “What about me?”
“Is there someone wretchedly in love with you, as you put it?” I glance her way, finding her expression suspiciously innocent.
It seems rather declassee to reveal my entire life’s story to a woman I literally just met.
How do I tell this woman that I pushed away the one man who is wretchedly in love with me every chance I got until one day he just didn’t come back?
Is that something you just tell a stranger?
I’ve been alone for so long now, just on my own- aside from Nathan lingering around- just getting through law school and forcing myself through every long fucking day—
“No,” I exhale. “No one for me.”
“Not even Elias’s friend? What’s his name?” My heart thuds in my ears just before Ivelisse remembers, “Graham! He’s single right? And hanging around this week?”
Sucking at my teeth, I turn away from her. “Graham is Elias’s friend, of course he’s here.”
“And you and he have never—”
“You know,” I snap, whirling on her so fast she has to take a step back.
I force a saccharine smile. “You and I hardly know each other. It doesn’t strike me as appropriate acquaintance conversation to grill me about my sex life, or the sex lives of your brother and his friends.
If you wish to be a brown noser, go shove your nose up their cracks and stay out of mine. ”
Her mouth drops open and embarrassment floods me so fast I have to turn away, pressing the backs of my fingers against my cheeks.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Why am I like this?! She was just asking a question, and I’ve been trying so hard to break the old habits that have put me in this miserable position in the first place.
“Are you two ready?” Clara calls. We both turn to find Poppy standing next to her and the ladies who own the flower farm. “We’re going back over to start making the bouquets!”
“Right behind you!” Ivelisse calls. I hurry past her, keeping my head down as we cross the street toward the little shop. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, reaching my side in a few quick strides, making me pause for half a step. “You’re right, I was being nosy. It’s none of my business.”
Swallowing, I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. There’s really no business to tell and I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I get… Mean when I’m uncomfortable.”
Ivelisse smiles. “It’s alright. Wolves shouldn’t be forced to wear sheep’s clothing.”
???
The bouquets are relatively easy to make once the owners explain the typical display. Big flowers in the center, surround each by little flowers, be sparring with the more eye-catching sprouts.
It takes a few hours for each of us to get our collection just right, Nelly’s taking the longest because the bride’s bouquet has to stand out the most. We all end up helping her choose just the right flowers- there is an absurd number of various colored poppies- and then the ladies in charge set all of them aside to be stored safely in a cooler for travel.
We’re forced to linger while they show Nelly the corsages and Ivelisse helps her put together the bouquet for Elias’s other sister. Rowan shows up to take us to our lunch destination just as they’re finishing up.
Watching the way he catches and kisses Clara is like watching the reason love exists in the first place. “Oye, mi amor, cómo te fue?”
“Buenísimo,” she kisses both his cheeks. “Mi ramo es tan hermoso que ni te vas a fijar en mí.”
“Te aseguro que eso es imposible. Eres más hermosa que mil campos llenos de flores.”
Ivelisse clears her throat, drawing her cousin’s attention away from his adorable wife. “Oye, deja de besar a tu esposa un momento y salúdame.”
Rowan sets Clara back on her feet, wrapping his cousin in his arms. “Cuándo llegaste?”
“Yo estaba aquí cuando ustedes las dejaron. Parece que Elías es el único caballero, porque tú ni siquiera te bajaste del carro.” She smacks his arm when he pulls away from her.
“Oye!” He rubs at the spot, glaring. “Ahora sí me alegro de no haberme bajado, brujita.”
She gasps, but Nelly steps in before they can get into what I assume was about to be a very heated argument. Nelly threads her arm through mine. “Are we hungry, ladies?”
“Starved,” Clara chimes, jumping on her husband’s back. He catches her legs quickly and she bands her arms around his neck, pointing toward the SUV. “Onward, my noble steed.”
“No soy tu caballo para que me andes montando.”
“Quizás no ahora… pero luego?” She kisses his cheek as it starts to turn deep red, his eyes darkening when he glances at her over his shoulder.
“Like I said,” I mutter to Ivelisse as we follow. “Wretchedly in love.”
???
Rowan drops us off at lunch and leaves the keys with me when Elias pulls up to pick him up for their groomsmen lunch. I assure him that I will make sure all the girls get home safely while pointedly avoiding looking when he climbs into the backseat.
Really, you can’t even look at him?
No, brain, I can’t. Leave me alone.
The truth is that I did look at him. Through the window.
I looked at him for a long time while he hung his head beneath the faucet in the kitchen.
Guilt is a new feeling for me, and it was strong as fuck while I witnessed his anguish.
I told myself it’s better this way. We only need to get through a few more days and then we can go back to our separate lives.
He’s better off without me.
The lunch Nelly set up is more like a tea at this cute café in the center of the local town.
There are little sandwiches and pastries, and we drink coffee or tea from the cutest porcelain mugs.
There’s talk about our dresses and the flowers, and Nelly shows us the flower girl crown on her phone.
It’s cute as shit of course, perfect for Elias’ little niece who we’ve all seen a dozen pictures of in the group chat and on the wedding website.
I can’t blame Nelly for being so obsessed with Elias’ exceptionally large family considering the one she’s coming from.
“Oh my god!” Clara bursts, snatching Nelly’s phone. “Stop, no, this is so fucking cute! God, you’re making me so jealous. Do I need to renew my vows?! I need to renew my vows…”
“Stop,” Nelly laughs, taking back her phone. “Your wedding was perfect, Clare Bear. It was spontaneous and sweet and everything you and Rowan wanted at the time. If Elias wasn’t such a huge fucking deal we’d probably do the exact same thing.”
I raise a brow and my teacup. “If Elias wasn’t such a big deal or if you weren’t such a snob?”
“I am not a snob!” Nelly protests while Clara and Ivelisse giggle. “I just have taste.”
“We all do,” I remind her. “But your taste tends to run a couple thousand dollars higher than either of ours.”
Everything about the wedding is the exact opposite of the one Vivian and her mother planned for her.
The entire goal of this one is to capture the essence of Nelly’s soul, her passion for Elias, and run it straight into the sun.
Her dress is lace with colorful flowers woven from the bodice to sprinkle down the skirts.
The veil just long enough that she won’t fear tripping.
A month-long search turned up gorgeous blue tulle shoes, and her outfit for the reception is a romper that sparkles no matter what light it’s under.
There will be Latin music and Elias promised her he’ll sing.
It’s going to be the most magical day of her life.
Which is why I can’t let it be ruined by my petty bullshit with Graham and his overdramatic groveling. Avoidance thy name is Naomi this week.
Luckily, the next destination Nelly planned for the day is a wine bar.
So, after Ivelisse says her goodbyes, I watch as my friends manage to get so drunk they forget the time.
We stay out late enough that by the time I get them safely to the cabin, there’s already a bonfire going and the smell of cigars wafting up from down by the lake.
I excuse myself to my room while Clara and Nelly grab sweaters with the full intention of staying in for the night.
Of course, there is still a knock at my door around eleven from the drunk bride asking if I want to join them at the bonfire. I pretend to be asleep when she peeks in, forcing my lungs to expand slowly, the blankets rising up and down with my shoulders.
“She’s already asleep,” I hear her tell Elias in the hall. “Close the windows so the noise doesn’t wake her.”
I close my eyes tight. Guilt is such a bitch the way she pinches my heart in the most uncomfortable places.
Why does she have to be so fucking sweet?
I’m a terrible fucking friend. This is her wedding week.
I should get up. I should suck up my anxiety and go be with my best friend on the eve eve eve eve of her wedding.
But I don’t. I stay curled up in a tight ball beneath my covers, listening to the muffled sounds of Elias singing, Nelly and Clara laughing, and the rumble of a voice just sinful enough to make me question every choice I’ve ever made.