How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  The rumors were true. This really was the best restaurant in Nashville.

  “I have never seen another human consume more food than you.”

  She eyed him over the rim of her steaming mocha latte—also a winner in tonight’s quest to make Jack Vaughn pay one last time. Literally. She shot him a grin.

  “Dude, give me an hour and we can start this meal all over again. No one beats me in a food challenge, ever.”

  He made a bewildered face and shook his head. “Yet you’re the size of a toothpick.”

  She shook her head, though she was secretly flattered. “More like a pair of chopsticks stuck together and shoved inside a white paper package.”

  He smiled at her weird logic and motioned for the waiter. “Whatever. Can we please get the check?” he asked.

  “Too afraid to stick around and see if I can do it again?”

  He pulled out his credit card and handed it off. “I don’t doubt your abilities. But my bank account is telling me not to push my luck.”

  Jack stood and walked around to her side of the table. But instead of helping her up like she expected, he leaned close to her ear. “But April, I would buy you five more dinners just like this one if it meant I could spend more time with you.”

  She swallowed, thankful the restaurant’s dim lighting kept him from seeing the pink, red, purple of her suddenly flushed cheeks. Her mind played a card game of make-a-match inside her head, but she couldn’t come up with two similar thoughts, let alone any that were the least bit coherent.

  “Okay.” That was all she had; the only word her stupid brain could think of to say.

  As if sensing her awkwardness, Jack simply breathed a quiet laugh and led her into the night air.

  “So I forgot to tell you—you’re a great singer.”

  “That may be true, but I’ll never forgive you for the way you found out.”

  “First of all, I heard you years ago. Second of all, forgiveness is a virtue, and I’m pretty sure it’s a commandment.”

  “I’m equally sure you’re wrong on both counts. Forgiveness is a choice, one I’m refusing to make at this particular moment.” She shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Maybe . . . one week from not at all.”

  She felt his foot kick her backside. “Come on, April. Give a guy a break. There’s never been a better rendition of ‘Open Arms’ performed by a woman before.”

  “Correction—there’s never been a rendition of that song performed by a woman before except at high school talent shows in the eighties. And we both know nothing good came out of that decade.”

  “I was born in that decade.”

  April shrugged. “Exactly.”

  He laughed. “I deserved that.”

  For the next several moments, they walked in silence, bypassing his car and leaving the parking lot entirely, neither of them in a hurry to go home. April crossed her arms to ward off a shiver of sudden nervousness, then looked up at the stars and offered up a little prayer for calmness. It was weird being alone with him . . . intimate in a way she had never felt before, not with any guy she’d dated. Up until now, all her relationships had been casual. Controlled. April keeping them at arm’s length even as they tried to pull her as close to their bodies as they possibly could—a constant tug-of-war.

  In a word, this experience was new.

  With Jack, she felt different. Like she could tell him her deepest secrets and not be afraid he would share them. Like she could put on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and her oldest T-shirt and he would still find her beautiful. Like she wanted to know everything about him and wanted to be known herself. Like—

  “What is that?” He swiped something out of her pocket. She tried to snatch it out of his hands but didn’t move fast enough. When he held it up to further inspect the item, she lunged.

  “Give me that!”

  He laughed and raised it out of her reach. “Someone doesn’t want me to read this.” He looked up at the white cotton square. “And would you look here. It’s a bar napkin with words on it.” He could barely speak around the stupid way he laughed. “This looks a lot like song lyrics to me.” Her mouth dropped open when he started reading them out loud. “‘When I was young I dreamed of writing your name on my heart—’ ”

  “Jack! Give that to me!” She jumped to grab it, but failed.

  “Not until I finish reading it.” Jack held it over his head and kept going. “‘But then I woke up alone and discovered my heart would barely start . . .’ ”

  Finally, she snatched it from his grasp. “Jack, that’s private. Something I wrote last night after the wedding. It isn’t even that good.” She fisted it, tucking it out-of-sight inside her palm.

  His smile softened as his gaze grew more serious. Then he reached for her hand, bringing it slowly between them. She had no choice but to loosen her grip—everything inside her had melted. It only made sense that an iron grip would give way as well.

  Slowly, Jack pulled the paper from her hand. “It seems to me,” he said, a soft smile curving his lips, “that one night several years ago, I came across a napkin a lot like this one. And written on it were some of the best lines I’ve ever read.”

  April blinked up at him, a wave of emotion rolling through her at the long-awaited compliment. All she’d ever really wanted was affirmation, and he was the only man who could give it to her.

  “I went about everything all wrong back then, but now . . . Now I’d like to read them. And if they’re good, I’d like to record them. And I would like you to come to the studio and help me out on my next album. I’d like to see a lot more of you, April. If you’re okay with it?”

  She sucked in a breath, felt the first prick of tears begin to sting right behind her eyes. “I’m definitely okay with it. I’m okay with all of it, because I want to keep seeing you too.” She cleared her throat when her voice caught, and tried again. “And it would be the best thing that ever happened to me if—”

  “Although there’s a good chance they could be awful, and then our deal would be off.”

  April’s mouth fell and she gave him a little shove. “I don’t write bad lyrics. Ever. In fact, I’m good at everything I do.”

  It took her a minute—a few seconds past the lazy grin that stole over his lips and the wicked gleam that lit behind his eyes—to realize what she had said. But then when he reached for her waist and pulled her toward him, searching her eyes for permission just before leaning in to kiss her, she no longer cared.

  His lips roamed over hers, tasting and teasing and gently coaxing her to let him in. Her mouth parted willingly. Mint and chocolate—she identified both and added a few more flavors the longer they kissed. They kissed through a car horn sounding and a cell phone buzzing and a misstep on April’s part that had her tripping backward before Jack used both hands to steady her. Through it all, they never broke apart. And the longer they stayed there and the longer they explored each other and the longer she went without grabbing more than a strained breath, April realized a couple of things. One, she was good at everything she did. And two . . .

  He was even better.

  THE END

  Amy Matayo has a degree in journalism from John Brown University. She worked for seven years as senior writer and editor at DaySpring Cards until the birth of her first child. Amy was a freelance writer for David C. Cook before pursuing writing full-time, and she focuses on edgy, contemporary books for women of all ages. She is the author of The Wedding Game, Love Gone Wild, and the upcoming Sway. She lives with her husband and four children in Arkansas.

  Visit her website at www.amymatayo.com.

  Facebook: amymatayoauthor

  Twitter: @amymatayo

  To my four daughters, Randi, Courtney Rae, Megan and Courtney Elizabeth. (Yes, I really have two daughters named Courtney!) Four weddings in four years?! How did we survive! What a blissful time, and what a blessing, to see you all happily wed.

  The morning my older sister, Crystal, announced her enga
gement, our whole family celebrated. Well, all but my dad, who mumbled something about checking his bank balance as he headed toward his computer to get online.

  Mama did a funny little dance on her way to make Crystal’s favorite pancakes, all while singing a rousing chorus from her favorite praise song. My grandmother burst into tears at the news. She gave Crystal a thousand kisses on each cheek—approximately—and launched into a passionate speech about the joys of married life. I chuckled at her enthusiasm as she boot-scooted her way out of the living room to call all her friends.

  And me? I gave Crystal the biggest hug ever—and then stood there, waiting for the words every sister anticipates: the invitation to serve as maid of honor. I’d earned the role, after all. Twenty-two years of living under the same roof with my everything-has-to-be-perfect older sister had more than qualified me for the job. And the whole family knew orchestrating events was my special gift. Hadn’t I planned all the birthday parties since I was ten?

  Now, if I could only get Crystal to stop staring at that over-the-top, princess-cut diamond on her ring finger, we’d get this show on the road.

  It took a few minutes for her obsession with the engagement ring to subside, but she finally got control of herself. She grabbed my hands and squealed, then released a happy sigh. “Oh, Mari, isn’t it wonderful? I’m going to be Mrs. Phillip Havenhurst. Finally!” She brushed one of her platinum blond locks aside and giggled. “His parents have a membership at the River Oaks Country Club. According to Texas Bridal, it’s Houston’s top venue for weddings. I mean, who gets that? Certainly not girls like us. It’s such an honor. I feel like a princess.”

  I felt a little more like Cinderella at the ball. Hanging out with Houston’s upper echelon would be nerve-racking at best. I’d never really been much for the country club set, even though most of the people in our upper-middle-class community strived for such luxuries. Me? I’d rather get married on the beach, any day. Or at our church. Certainly not at a hoity-toity place like River Oaks Country Club, and definitely not surrounded by people who preferred caviar to nacho cheese dip.

  I was more than a little concerned by her news about the venue. “Does Dad know you’re getting married at the country club? No wonder he’s checking his bank balance. He’s probably in a panic.”

  “Maybe it won’t be as bad as we think.” Concern flashed in my sister’s blue eyes. “Phillip’s father has connections. I’m sure he’ll help work out something. I hope.”

  “Maybe, but it’s still going to shake Dad up. I mean, the food costs alone will be crazy. Are you sure you don’t want to get married at the church? Did you see how they did up the reception hall for Nikki Raymond’s wedding? It looked amazing, almost like a high-end wedding facility. It can be done. If we have time, I mean. Have you set a date?”

  “Yes. Mid-May. That gives us just four months. But don’t worry, Mari. We’re definitely getting married at the church. The reception just won’t be there. Phillip’s parents probably wouldn’t like that. Remember, I told you what kind of lifestyle they’re used to?” For whatever reason, the sparkle in Crystal’s eyes faded as she spoke those words. Just as quickly, it reignited. “Anyway, it’ll be great.”

  “Of course it will.” I did my best to sound reassuring and tried not to focus on the wide financial gap between our two families.

  “Besides, I’m only getting married once. I want it to be amazing.”

  “It’s going to be amazing, Crystal. And you, of all people, deserve the perfect wedding. You’re the most giving person I know. I can’t wait.”

  “Me either.” She took a couple of steps in my direction and gave me a warm hug.

  “So, um, have you given any thought to bridesmaids?”

  “Of course! I’ve been dreaming about my wedding for years.” She released me from the hug and then listed several friends, cousins, and other relatives as possibilities, covering eight or nine people in the process. With each name, my heart felt a little heavier.

  Hello? Did we forget someone?

  “But I’ve limited it to five. One sister—”

  Yes!

  “—one cousin, and three best friends. One from high school, one from college, and one from church.” She turned and faced me. “I think that number is just right. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, but one of them”—I paused and gave my sister a pointed look—“will technically be a maid of honor.” I cleared my throat and prayed she’d take the hint. “Right? So it’s really four bridesmaids and a maid of honor.” I squared my shoulders and waited for Crystal to confirm what I already knew in my heart.

  “Right.” She nodded. “The maid of honor handles a lot—the bridal shower, a bachelorette party, and quite a few things on the actual wedding day. So choosing the right person is key.”

  “Of course. And I—”

  “I know Sienna will do a great job.”

  “Oh, thank you, I—”

  Wait. Did she say Sienna?

  Crystal reached into her purse and came up with a piece of paper with a bunch of notes scribbled on it. “I know Sienna might seem like an odd choice, but I’ve known her since we met at camp as little girls, and she’s been my best friend ever since. Besides, I owe her. She’s the one who introduced me to Phillip, remember?”

  “Well yes, but—”

  “I know, I know.” Crystal gripped the note in her hand. “I can guess what you’re thinking.”

  “You can?”

  “Yes. She wouldn’t have been your first pick.”

  “I . . . well . . . no.”

  “She wasn’t really mine, either.” Crystal sighed and then took a seat on the sofa. “If you want the truth, Phillip’s mother suggested it. Sienna’s mom is one of her best friends.”

  “You don’t have to bow to Mrs. Havenhurst’s wishes, Crystal. She’s not even the mother of the bride, and it’s your wedding.”

  “I know.” My sister didn’t look convinced. She glanced at the note and then looked my way. “But I don’t like to stir the waters. I never know what to do when Phillip’s mother starts giving me her . . . opinions. Sometimes it’s easier not to debate her, you know? She doesn’t have a daughter, so she’s been kind of planning her son’s wedding for ages, I guess.”

  “Well, yes, but again, it’s your wedding, not hers.” I took a seat next to her. “You should be able to have anyone you like stand next to you.”

  “It’s okay, Mari. Really. Sienna is a little, well, self-centered and spoiled, but she’s a good friend, and she’ll do fine. I hope.” A little sigh followed. “But I know what you’re thinking. You would’ve picked Gillian, right?”

  “Gillian?” Um, no.

  “It’s true that I’m closer to her these days. We work together at the hospital, after all. I see her every day. I toyed with the idea of asking her. And I even thought about Cassie. She’s my favorite cousin, and we got really close on that last mission trip. And Brianna, of course, was my college roomie, and we certainly bonded over all those all-nighters, studying for exams. I just have so many wonderful people to choose from.”

  What am I, chopped liver?

  Crystal leaned back against the sofa and reached for a throw pillow, which she hugged to her chest. “But Phillip’s mom convinced me Sienna’s the right choice, and I agree. I mean, she was there for me through the breakup with Phillip, and I’ve shared my deepest, darkest secrets with her.”

  Well, hello. You’ve shared them with me too. Remember? Who talked you down from the ledge just three months ago when Phillip put the brakes on your relationship?

  Crystal’s eyes pooled with tears. “Oh, Mari!” She tossed the pillow aside, grabbed my hands again, and gave them a squeeze. “I’m so excited.”

  “Me too.” And I meant it. In my heart of hearts, I meant it. Even if it took brushing aside any crumbs of bitterness from my heart. My one and only sister was getting married. I needed to be there for her.

  “I do need to ask one special favor of you, Mari.” She gave
me a pleading look. I recognized the pouty lip, of course. I’d seen it a zillion times before.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, you haven’t met Phillip’s cousin, Tyler.”

  “Ooh, he has a cousin?” Potential love interest, perhaps?

  “Yes.” Crystal’s nose wrinkled, and I could read the concern in her eyes. “See, here’s the deal. Tyler is only fourteen.”

  “Fourteen?” I swallowed hard.

  “He’s going to be a groomsman, of course. I mean, they’re cousins, after all, both of them only children. I know, technically, the two aren’t close in age. And Tyler is, well, socially awkward.”

  “Socially awkward?”

  “He’s always telling goofy jokes at the wrong time, interrupting people when they’re talking, dressing oddly just to get attention. Stuff like that. You know the type, right? I think some boys just go through this when they’re sloshing their way through puberty.”

  “I’m confused. What does this have to do with me?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Crystal giggled. “I got distracted. You know how the bridesmaids and groomsmen are paired up. Well, Tyler will need a partner for the ceremony.”

  “You’re pairing me up with the socially awkward fourteen-year-old?” At this news, I leaned back against the sofa cushions and pinched my eyes shut. What was she thinking? After a few slow breaths, I opened my eyes and looked at my sister. The happiness in her eyes almost made me think I could handle all this.

  Almost.

  “I knew you would understand, Mari! Oh, and don’t worry . . . he’s just your height. Of course, that would make him a lot shorter than the other boys his age, but, if you don’t count the acne, he looks a lot older.” Crystal’s nose wrinkled once again. “As picky as Mrs. Havenhurst is, I’m surprised she hasn’t insisted her sister-in-law take him to a dermatologist. I mean, it’s not really my business, but in a roundabout way, it kind of is. You know?”