The Truth

Harper swats at Ace affectionately. “Both of you are too much! No, definitely not a Hollywood dress.”

“Hollywood dress, rent-a-dress, brown paper bag . . . I just can’t wait to lock you down before you realize you can do so much better than me,” Ace says. “This insanity will pass before I know it, and I need to have you legally chained to me before then.”

Harper comes over, giving Ace a big kiss on the cheek. “Don’t say that, you’re my most favoritest person.”

Ace ignores his camera and pulls Harper into his lap, the two of them rubbing noses and getting kissy faced. It’s like the cutest form of foreplay or something ever, and I have to roll my eyes and pretend to gag. “Blech, if you keep that up, the dogs are going to puke up the peanut butter truffles, and I’ve done more than my fair share of clean-up duty lately, so that’ll be on you two.”

Ace sticks out his tongue like he used to do when we were kids, but they do pull back a little bit. They can’t stop making goo-goo eyes at each other, though, so I still feel like a third wheel. “So, where are we going?”

Harper refocuses and goes back to her computer. “Uhm, Millennium Bridal, that place downtown? I’m really sorry to spring it on you like this, but it’s been such a busy week. I meant to call you already to ask . . . Will you be a bridesmaid?”

“Like I’d turn that job down!” I scoff, taking a brush to Ace’s next ‘model’. “That means I get to plan the bachelorette party, right?”

Ace groans while Harper giggles. “Just promise me nothing major. I’m more of a low-key kinda girl,” she says. “And a lot of the guests will be other teachers, and not the Cameron Diaz Bad Teacher kind, either.”

“Fine, fine,” I joke, as if teachers can’t get down. “I promise to only get conservative strippers. Priests, maybe? Or cowboys?” Harper gives me a horrified look, and I laugh. “Okay, no strippers. What about a sex toy party?”

Harper is past pink and turning shades of maroon as if the only thing worse than strippers gyrating in her face is being confronted with vibrating butt plugs in front of her mother and future mother-in-law.

But Ace is looking thoughtful, so I shoot him a wink to let him know I’ll take care of things. Things might not get habanero hot on the honeymoon, but I bet I can convince Harper to at least think of something a little . . . chipotle.

Of course, I won’t give it to her publicly. It’ll be on the sly . . . maybe her ‘something blue’?

“Oh, and I need to get to work with Kevin,” Ace says, saving Harper as he changes the subject for his love. “He’s going to be the ring bearer.”

I give Kevin a look, where he’s currently lying on the floor with his tongue lolling out and his feet in the air, running as though chasing a bunny in his sleep. He might make a good dust mop, but no way is he ready to be in a wedding.

“Good luck with that.”

* * *

“Hi!” the perky blonde greets me, her face friendly and her smile wide. “I’m Cassie!”

“Ah, the maid of honor,” I greet her, offering my hand, but she’s not having that. Instead, she excitedly wraps me up in a warm hug. Still in her embrace, I say, “I’m Tiffany, Ace’s sister. Harper said we’d be carpooling today.”

It’s a hell of a carpool. In addition to Cassie, who’s a teacher friend of Harper’s, there’s my mom Renee, Harper’s mom Hillary, myself, and of course, Harper. It’s the first time some of us have met, so Harper made . . . well, I guess you’d call them name tags, but only Harper would create ‘name tags’ like this.

They’re crowns. Made of thin posterboard, they’re adorned with sparkles, glitter, and little plastic rhinestones that spell out our names. As if that’s not enough, there are curled ribbons hanging down the back, flower girl style. They’re totally something a kindergarten teacher like Harper would create, that’s for sure. Though I think they’d typically be better for actual kids, I put mine on because I wouldn’t dream of telling Harper no.

We pile into Harper’s mom’s car, of course a minivan, and we go to Millennium Bridal. It’s not the fanciest bridal shop in town, but it’s not budget basement either, and as we enter, Harper squeals. “It’s happening! It’s really happening.”

The consultant greets us and then swoops Harper away to slip into the first dress. We sit where instructed and gratefully accept the sparkling champagne we’re offered.

“Harper is such a lovely girl,” my mom tells Hillary. “We’re so thrilled about her and Ace.”

“Us too,” Hillary replies. “Ace seems like a fine young man.”