I grin. “Lyra!”
Laughter answers me. “Elodie!”
I laugh too, joy tingling beneath my skin. “What’s crackin?'” I ask, grabbing a bridal magazine off the stack on the couch beside me and flipping through, looking for my next victim.
“Jupiter and I are making a mini-golf course,” she says. “Slash butterfly garden.”
They’re so cool. “I want a mini-golf course slash butterfly garden,” I say. “That sounds sick. Where are you putting it? At the nursery?” I don’t remember there being a lot of space there, but maybe it was hidden. Somehow. Or maybe they’re restructuring the property to fit in the mini-golf. They’ve got the money for it.
I’m surrounded by rich people, and yet my bank account, it remains sorrowfully low. Can one not become rich by proximity? Osmosis? How does it happen?
“We’re doing it in the backyard, actually. Kind of between our house and Mars and Ceres’ house. It’s been really fun figuring out how to incorporate the butterfly plants and work around Mars’ garden. We dug the course today, then this week Jove will start putting down the artificial turf while I work on the plants. Then all that will be left is to add what Jove callsan adequate amount of flags.”
“This is sofun!” I exclaim. “I can’t wait to see it next time I visit.”
“Unfortunately, it won’t be done by tomorrow. Maybe the visit after that.”
I snort. “Sorry, dear cousin, but it’ll be a wee bit longer before I can get up there again. Very busy here, you see. I’m planning a wedding!”
She gasps, and I hear something topple through the phone. “Wedding? To Salty Boy?”
I choke on glue fumes, dropping my magazine. “Ew!” I gag. “No! Of course not!”
“Oh,” she replies, significantly more subdued. “Boo. Who’s the wedding for, then?”
“Ruby and Will.” I shake off the yuck of implied romance between Roman and me. “They’re getting married in September, and I’m the maid of honor.”
“Ooo,” she replies. “Fancy title for a fancy lady.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Fancy title for a fancycluelesslady. That’s why I’m calling. I’m kind of spearheading the wedding planning, and I was hoping you’d have some tips and tricks?” I look over the wedding inspo in front of me, eyes roving the magazines, wedding-themed scrapbook paper, and various tubes of glitter glue—among other art supplies. Not a single tiportrick to befound in this absolute waste of my time.
“Please, Ly, I’m kind of useless here.” Except for that time I flawlessly executed a bridal party email chain, but the high from that win wore off right around the time I started searching up venues. Who knew there were so many? And who knew you were supposed to know whether or not you want a venue that provides chairs? Or that there are so many thatdo notprovide chairs. Sitting, I’ve discovered, is averyexpensive pastime.
“Oh, I didn’t do any of the planning,” Lyra crushes me, then puts me back together. “Jupiter and Mars took care of that. Here, I’ll pass the phone to Jupiter, and you can ask him about it.”
The phone shuffles as I find a spare piece of mostly empty paper, grabbing a neon pink glitter gel pen to take notes.
“Yeah?” a man’s voice rumbles in my ear.
Yummy.
“Hey!” I greet, smiling at Jove’s rough tone. “Lyra said you and Mars handled the wedding planning for you guys. Any advice you could give me? I’m planning a wedding over here, too. My bestie’s,” I assure him, not wanting a repeat of the yucky yucky ew ew. “Not mine. Your wedding was gorg, though, by the way. Magazine-worthy. All the lights! And the flags! And that carrot cake, goodness gracious. I dream about that cake.”
I pause to breathe and, perhaps, let him regale me with mind-blowing wedding tips.
He says only, “Mars did everything. I’ll give you his number.” Then another shuffle.
“I’m back,” Lyra says. “Very quickly.”
Giggling, I tease, “Your husband sounds just as hot as ever. Lucky, lucky Lyra.”
Lucky, lucky Lyra snorts. Giggles. Clears her throat. “Yes. Well.”
Yes, well, indeed.
“How is married life anyway?” I ask, abandoning my scrapbooking. I pull my leg up onto the couch and get comfortable. “Everything you wanted and more? Please say yes. I need my heart to beat romantic again. A reminder that good, true love is really out there.”
Lyra sighs the sigh of a woman properly loved. “Married life is beautiful, El. Wonderful. Fun. Invigorating. Not just the stuff with Jupiter, which is perfect, but being a part of his family, too. Gaining a brother and a sister in one fell swoop? I’m so blessed and so grateful. Last week we even did family bonding, roasting marshmallows over Ted’s mysteriously burnt-down shed. I couldn’t have asked for a better evening—unless, of course, you had been there.”
