The One and Only (Heart of Hope 7)

Sharon, who had looked alarmed, shot me a relieved look when my mom wasn’t looking.

Mom put up her hands in surrender. “Of course, dear. It’s your wedding.”

Is it? I wanted to ask her. But that wasn’t going to help or change anything, and I wasn’t going to have this argument in front of Mom’s assistant, Laura and Sharon, a relative stranger.

“I was rather fond of the French options,” Mom said. “Asian fusion is terribly chic right now, but if they don’t have enough options, I think you can’t go wrong with some classical French styles….”

Mom’s assistant tapped her on the shoulder. “Ma’am, your set runner is calling about your summer taping schedule.”

“Ah!” Mom stood up with a smile. “Duty calls. The life is always demanding.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Be good, dear. Ruminate on what I said, and I’ll see you when you get home.”

She waltzed out in true star fashion, like she was on a runway, with the cameras flashing around her. Her assistant followed her like a shadow.

I had to hold in my sigh of relief. As much as I trusted Laura with being a witness to my family drama—if she’d been open to hearing about it (though it was the worst way to reveal my feelings and would create a huge fucking mess)—I didn’t want a stranger like Sharon knowing that I wasn’t exactly pleased with my mother. I didn’t need gossip rags getting any tales.

I turned to Sharon. “I enjoyed the idea of a menu that wasn’t super heavy but had more food options so that people could get a lot of variety and snacks throughout the reception.”

Laura smiled at me encouragingly. “I think the lemon chicken tasted delicious.”

“I agree.” Between Laura and Sharon, I was able to figure out what I liked, and it wasn’t anything that was popular or was “all the rage” right now. It was food that I liked to eat and gave a good variety to guests and wouldn’t be too crazy to prepare, like sushi or seafood.

Finishing up the meeting, I felt much better than I had when I’d started. Laura was good at guiding me through the different options and making suggestions. I was pretty sure she only made half of those suggestions so that she could give me an opportunity to refuse something, because even in saying “no,” I was narrowing things down and considering what I liked.

It was only polite for me to walk her to her car afterwards, I told myself. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“There’s no way my mother is allowed to come to the cake tasting,” I said. “My stomach will explode before she’s made a decision.”

Laura chuckled. I loved being able to make her smile. When we’d been dating, it had felt like the best part of my day, the number one thing I was always trying to do. Make Laura Loomis smile. Naturally, I didn’t want to stop spending time with her now. I didn’t want to let her go.

“I’ve been thinking about your layout question,” I said, checking my phone for the time and to make sure I hadn’t missed any calls or texts. It was only about two in the afternoon. Plenty of time to find an excuse to spend more time with her. “I have to admit, I’ve never paid any attention to how tables and chairs look at a wedding. Are there different shapes? Colors?”

Laura’s eyes lit up and she nodded. I could remember her eyes lighting up like that in chemistry class when we’d been assigned as lab partners. It was how I’d met her. She knew more about the subject than I did, and I’d loved watching her eyes gleam as she launched into an explanation about the properties of magnesium.

“There’s round tables, of course, and most people prefer those,” Laura explained. “But some people want the bride and groom’s table to be different, so it’ll be a small square or rectangular table for just the two of them. Or a long narrow table, with everyone in the wedding party on one side, so that they’re all facing the other guests, kind of like royalty. And of course, your color scheme comes into play here—what color tablecloths you want, place settings, any table decorations like a bouquet of flowers. Some people want colored bows on the chairs—”

I laughed. “My brain isn’t built for visualizing this kind of thing.”

“You did ask,” Laura pointed out.

“And now I see the error of my ways.”

“I do know an event rental showroom.” Laura bit her lip with excitement, as if she had just suggested that we have sex in the backseat of the car, rather than go and check out some boring tables. “I can show you all the furniture—more tables and chairs and tablecloths and runners and chair covers than you’d ever want to see.”

I pretended to think about it. “Now, why does that sound like a threat?”

Laura laughed. “Hey, you signed up for this.”

“That I did. I can drive us, if you want. That way we can talk along the way about…” I shuddered dramatically, “…themes.”

Laura laughed again. “Oh, the horror.” She paused, then glanced at our cars.

“Your car will be fine here,” I pointed out.

Laura looked like she was irritated and about to correct me, but then her face went blank and then, carefully, neutral. “Okay,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

On the way over, we discussed color themes again. The only “theme” I really knew about was our high school theme, but I was grinning. “Hey, what if we paint our initials in block letters like the old blue and gold ones at Grosse Pointe South.”

Laura snorted. “We can also issue people letterman jackets for the wedding prep rally.”