“Well, we all know that you penises like to stick together, don’t you?”
“Again. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “Yes, Violet. I have a dick. A rather large one, if I’m being honest. But that has nothing to do with the fact that I was hired to do a job, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Typical. Do you have any more surprises for my girl, Charles? Perhaps you could prepare her for whatever you’ve got left in that bagof dicks you seem to be carting around.” She glared at him, arms folded across her chest, her eyes fuming. “Let me guess. Did he find her first baby footprint out in the garden and have it gold plated? Or did he find her first baby tooth and have it made into a pearl necklace that you’re going to present to her next?”
He laughed. “You’re absolutely insane.”
“You have no idea. I haven’t even gotten started.” She smirked.
My phone vibrated relentlessly in my back pocket, and I pulled it out to see several texts from Monica, who was getting married this coming weekend. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Vi, I’m begging you to tone it down. I’m good. We’ve got to get over to the bridal shop. Monica is having dress issues.”
“It’s your lucky day, Huxley. I wasn’t finished with my wrath just yet,” Violet grumped.
“Thanks for doing all this, Charlie. I’m honestly overcome with emotion, in a good way. I worked hard on this wall, and I just assumed it was gone. And the banister ...” I placed a hand on my heart. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
“Thank you, Montana. That makes it all worth it,” he said before turning and raising a brow at Violet.
“What? You don’t seriously think I’m going to apologize for being a protective best friend, do you?” Violet chuckled. “See you around, Charles.”
He grunted something under his breath, but I couldn’t make it out, and we walked outside together and got in her car.
“You okay?” she asked as she started driving toward downtown.
“Yes. You shouldn’t have been rude to Charlie. It was really sweet of him to make sure it got moved over correctly. He’s doing his job, Vi.”
“I know that,” she sang out dramatically. “But I like giving Charles shit because he’s so ... edgy. And he gets all worked up. A girl can have some fun. Plus, you cried. You never cry. So I would have attacked anyone that was the cause of it in the moment.”
“I can’t believe Myles did that,” I said.
“Yeah, he’s clearly the world’s worst fling,” she said, putting the car in park after she pulled into the Blooming Bride’s parking lot. “This was supposed to be light and fun for you. You were supposed to have a one-nighter, let the man rock your world, and realize what a dud of a douche Phillip was before going off into the dating world. Your fling lasted for months, took you on trips, and salvaged your childhood memories. What kind of bullshit is that?”
“Of course I even failed at having a fling. It was supposed to be fun—I wasn’t supposed to fall for the guy.” I pushed out of the car.
“Love sucks!” Violet yelled, and I turned around and used my hand to cover her mouth.
“We’re wedding planners. You can’t say that out loud.” I held my hand there as I waited for her to nod.
“Don’t remind me. Let’s go see what today’s problem is.” She looped her arm through mine.
I pulled the door open, and we both straightened and plastered smiles on our faces.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Monica said. She had a look of panic on her face. She looked around at her mom and her bridesmaids and added, “We’re having issues getting the back zipped.”
Her dress looked like it was made for her.
A white satin princess-style gown.
“I took the measurements and was certain I got them right,” Beatrice said. She was the local seamstress, and she took a lot of pride in her work. I was certain she was still recovering from her experience with Tracy, as she’d been really tough on the older woman about her alterations.
I stepped in front of her and raised a brow. “It fits perfectly everywhere else.”
“I know. I’m not sure what’s happening up here.” Monica looked down at her chest.
“This isn’t a shotgun wedding, is it?” Connie, Monica’s mother, said, her voice all tease as she sipped her champagne on the couch. A couple of Monica’s bridesmaids giggled.
“Oh my gosh, Mom. I’m not pregnant.”
The strapless gown was gorgeous, and her boobs did look notably larger than they had at the last fitting; they were bursting out of the top.
