Chapter Three
Daisy
“Are we moving on or should I get another round?”Ellie says, looking around at our glasses and finding them all empty.
“Let’s go somewhere we can dance,” Rachel says, and she gets nods of agreement from the rest of us.
“Just quickly, before we go somewhere louder, there’s something I wanted to say,” Leah says. “I’ve asked Daisy to be my maid of honor, and she has accepted.” She pauses for a moment while the others congratulate me. I didn’t know that was a thing and I’m still not sure it is, but it’s a nice moment and I don’t ruin it by pointing out it’s not necessary. “And you three, Rachel, Harriet, Ellie, I would love it if you would be my bridesmaids.”
More shrieking and cheering fill the air followed by three tearful exclamations of yes. Was I meant to cry? Shit, I don’t know. But God if I had cried, Leah probably would have thought she was dying or something. I congratulate the others because I have now learned it’s a thing and even if it’s not, they said it to me, so it feels only respectful to say it back.
I decide then and there that if I’m seriously going to do this maid of honor thing properly – and I am, Leah deserves that, and I would have said no if I didn’t think I could do this – I’m going to stop second guessing myself and do what feels right to me. Leah has been my best friend for long enough to know me and to know what sort of reactions I have to things, and she’s always loved me for it, so I am not going to change now.
***
After Leah asked the other three girls to be her bridesmaids and they all agreed, we finished our bottle of champagne and moved on to a club. Everyone was in a good mood, and we drank and danced, even after everyone was moaning their feet hurt, we still danced. By around three am, there was only me and Leah left, the others peeling off one by one over the course of the previous hour or so.
Giggling, Leah took my hand and led me to the bar where she ordered two gin and oranges and then she led me to the chill out area of the club where the music was a bit quieter, and people sat around chatting (or coming down) rather than bouncing around. We sat down at a small table.
“Sorry. Do you mind us sitting down for a minute? My feet are burning,” Leah says, and I shake my head.
“Tell me more about the wedding,” I say once we are seated.
People tend to assume that because I’m a bit gothy in my clothes and makeup that I have no interest in so-called girly things like weddings. That isn’t true at all. Aside from the fact Leah is my best friend so of course I care about her wedding, there’s also the fact that I coordinate fashion shows for some big-name designers, and around twenty percent of those shows are for wedding dresses. I probably know and care more about weddings than any of my friends do.
“My colors are going to be burgundy and champagne. So, the bridesmaids would wear champagne, and you would wear burgundy. Or do you want to wear black?” Leah asks.
“It’s your wedding Lee. I’ll wear whatever you want me to. Burgundy is good,” I say.
Of course I would prefer black, but burgundy is a good color and it’s not like she’s putting me in Barbie pink or something equally horrendous.
“We’re going to have the ceremony and the reception in the same place – The Petal Hotel. Do you know it?” Leah asks.
“Yes,” I say, nodding my head. It’s small by hotel standards, but it’s absolutely beautiful and it will be perfect for a wedding. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I know,” Leah agrees. “I wasn’t sure at first, but when I saw it, I just fell in love with it. We’re going to book our room, rooms for the bridal party and the groomsmen, rooms for both sets of parents and then after that, people can book what’s left or not stay over. Most guests will be local anyway and anyone coming from out of state can find a room nearby easily enough if it comes to it.”
“Yes, there are a few nice hotels around there,” I say. “But don’t waste a room on me. Seriously, I’m a few blocks away. Let someone who needs it take it.”
“Well, that would be helpful if you’re sure,” Leah says.
I nod firmly. “I’m sure.”
Leah excitedly tells me more about her planned menu, her centerpieces for the reception tables, her flowers, and more. Her face is flushed pink, and she is obviously so happy – happier than I think I’ve ever seen her. She frowns and for a moment, her excitement seems to fade away, but not for long.
“What’s up?” I ask. “What’s with the frown?”
She sighs.
“Do you think Ellie will be annoyed because she’s not maid of honor?”
Leah shakes her head quickly. “No. Ellie and I were never that close. She probably didn’t even expect to be asked to be a bridesmaid to be honest.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
“I know I’m getting everything I want, and Dean is being super chill about everything, letting me do what I want, and for that reason, I wouldn’t ever ask him to change his mind, but he’s asked his brother, Brent, to be his best man.”
“What’s wrong with that?
“I absolutely hate that guy,” Leah admits. “He’s some sort of an investment banker – or investment wanker if you ask me – and he makes a shit ton of money, so he assumes he’s better than everyone else. He’s forever asking Dean when he’s going to get a real job, or when he’s going to expand on his business and all of this.”
I don’t really know what to say to that. The only reason I haven’t asked Dean when he’s going to grow up and start working in the real world or expanding his business is because it’s literally none of my business. I’ve said similar things to Leah about him and she’s always just said he’s happy how he is. If he was my brother, I would probably be on him to step up, especially if he was getting married.
“He’s so smug and condescending, like he’s better than us because he has a ton more money than everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I get that money is important to live, but as long as we have enough to live comfortably – and we do – why do we need more? Why should Dean work twenty-hour days and miss out on living his life? What’s the point? But Brent doesn’t see it that way. For him, work and money are life. I’m not surprised he’s single. He prioritizes the wrong things,” Leah says.
Ok, put like that, he sounds like an asshole, and I get where Leah is coming from.
“Just avoid him as much as you can, and on your wedding day, you and Dean will be in your own little bubble anyway and he won’t be able to ruin it for you,” I say.
“Well, you’re my maid of honor. It’s your job to keep him away from me,” Leah laughs.
“I think I can manage that,” I say.
“More shots or pizza time?” Leah asks.
I check my watch and see it’s close to five am.
“Definitely pizza time,” I say, and we leave the club and wander over to the pizza joint down the block.
Chapter Four
Daisy
“Hello,” I say, answering my cell phone to Leah.
“Oh Daisy, thank God,” she says, and I can hear the panic in her voice, and I’m instantly on high alert.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I demand.
“I need to ask a huge favor of you,” Leah says. “I’m stuck in traffic, and I reckon I’m going to be here for at least an hour or two – there’s been an accident – and I have a cake tasting booked for six o’clock.”
I check my watch. It’s five thirty.
“Do you need me to call and cancel for you?” I say, thinking maybe she doesn’t have the number on her and she’s afraid to be sitting on her cell phone for too long with police officers around her due to the accident.
“No. I need you to go to the tasting,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t ask, but it’s an emergency.”
“A cake related emergency,” I say, smiling.
“I know how it sounds,” Leah says, and I can hear that she too is smiling, but only for a second before the panicky tone is back in her voice. “But this baker is so hard to get an appointment with, and she’s already agreed to see me outside of office hours for the tasting. If I cancel on her, I know she won’t reschedule and I’ll end up with a cake that is fine, but just that – fine. Not special or …”
“Leah, breathe,” I interrupt her, and I wait for her to stop talking. “I’ll go to the cake tasting.”
“Oh, thank you,” Leah says, and she sounds so relieved I almost laugh but I don’t because I want her to know I’m taking this seriously. Maybe not as seriously as she is, because no matter how I look at it, I can’t view a cake tasting appointment being missed as an emergency, but seriously enough that I’m not laughing about it at least.
“Should I pretend to be the wedding planner?” I ask.
“No. The baker knows the wedding planner. That’s the only reason we got an appointment with her in the first place. I haven’t met her yet so just pretend to be me. You know better than anyone what I like and dislike anyway,” Leah says.
I frown. “Can’t I just be me and explain I’m there on your behalf as the maid of honor?”
“No, because then she’ll think you don’t have any authority,” Leah says.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be you. I hope you know this goes way above and beyond maid of honor duties.”
“I know it does, and believe me, I’ll be eternally grateful. I’ll send you the address,” Leah says. “Thank you, love you, bye.”
She ends the call, leaving me half laughing and half shaking my head. I guess of all of the things she could need me to step in for though, this one isn’t the worst one. A bit of time spent eating cake certainly doesn’t sound too bad to me, and if the baker is that good, it doesn’t matter which one I choose, it will taste good
My cell phone pings, and I see that Leah has sent me the address of the bakery and I check where it is in relation to my apartment where I currently am, and I see I I’m going to have to leave right now if I’m to make it on time and just hope the subway is running on time.
I grab my handbag and throw my cell phone in it. My wallet is already in there and my keys are in the door. I leave my apartment and lock the door, and then I run down the stairs and across the lobby and out into the street. I keep running until I’m in the subway station, and I’m rewarded with an announcement that the subway train I want is coming onto the platform in one minute. It’s a good job I ran.
The subway train comes in as promised and I hop on it, and I’m lucky enough to get a seat. As the subway train pulls away, a man sits down beside me, and the sudden thrust of the subway train makes him bump against me.
“Sorry,” he says, giving me an apologetic smile.
I feel as though my heart literally misses a beat when I look at him, although I tell myself that’s stupid. This is real life, not some sappy movie. He is damned gorgeous though. He has light brown skin and grey eyes, an unusual combination that works well with his high cheekbones and sculpted jawline. He looks freshly shaven and that, coupled with his buzzcut, gives him a slight edge that stops him from moving from handsome into pretty.
“It’s ok,” I say, realizing I haven’t spoken in forever and I’ve just been sitting, staring at the man. If it worries him, he hides it well. In fact, he is still looking at me now even after I have replied to his apology.
“I would curse the subway train and the driver, but how can I curse something that got the attention of the most beautiful woman on here,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow, not ready to fall for such a cheesy line, but despite myself, I feel my stomach swirl. I tell myself to stop being so ridiculous but as much as my head wants that, my body is ignoring my command.
“Oh, come on,” the man says, and he smiles at me and his teeth are white and straight and perfect, and his lips are oh so kissable. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who don’t know they are gorgeous.”
I shrug one shoulder awkwardly. I don’t think I’m gorgeous – far from it – but I don’t think I look like I’ve hit every branch of the ugly tree either. I’m just, well, me.
“I’m just teasing you,” the man says when it becomes clear to him that I’m not even going to attempt to answer him this time. “You just look confident enough to know how to handle a compliment.”
“I am,” I say. “But there’s a massive difference between a compliment and a cheesy pick-up line.”
The man puts his hand to his chest.
“Ouch. I’m hurt,” he says with a grin.
“Sure, you are” I grin back.
“You said my pick-up line was cheesy.”
“It was. But I didn’t say I don’t like cheese.”
“That’s true, you didn’t. So, are you saying I have a chance?”
“I’m saying bring on the cheddar,” I reply, still grinning at him. I stand up. “This is my stop.”