Rumors: Angela & Tyler

by Rachael Brownell

  Brianna is a few inches shorter than Em, but in these dresses, she might as well be a midget. The short dresses hit her knees, and the long dresses cover her feet enough she'll trip on them even in heels.

  Then there's Jill. She's really short, barely over five feet tall. Everything, and I mean everything, looks bad on her. My poor sister is tiny in every way. She has no butt, no boobs, and no hips.

  Brianna is overly abundant in the chest region with the perfect hourglass shape.

  Emerson has a good-sized chest, a little bigger than mine, but she's lacking in the hip department.

  "I don't know. They all look awful," I reply, looking at the sales lady.

  This poor woman, Amy I think, has been helping us for hours.

  "Can I make a recommendation?" she asks, taking a few of the dresses from the discarded rack and putting them in front of Emerson's door.

  "Of course."

  "There are a lot of brides in your situation. The dress they like on one girl looks awful on another. Instead of having them all wear the same dress, you could have them all wear the same color."

  Why didn't I think of that?

  Looking to Em, she shrugs her bare shoulder as she holds up the blue strapless dress she's wearing. "I'm game for whatever."

  "It's worth a shot," I remark, looking to Brianna and Jill who have both changed back into their own clothes.

  Jill looks irritated while Brianna looks indifferent to my idea.

  "Why don't you guys pick out two dresses you like the best on you. I'll have you all stand together so I can see how it looks."

  "Sounds good to me," Brianna says, heading back to the rows upon rows of bridesmaid dresses.

  Jill follows her without a word. I can tell she's not excited about playing dress up again. It's already been a long morning, and even though I haven't tried on a single dress, thank god, I'm exhausted from all the back and forth between the three of them.

  "I'm going to put the purple one back on," Em says as she heads toward her dressing room.

  "Wait, Em. What would you think about wearing a different color than the other girls?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you're the maid of honor. I'm having the guy’s ties match the dresses. Since you and Ryder will be walking together, his tie could match your dress and Hunter and Vinnie could match B and Jill."

  "If that's what you want, I'm game."

  "Do you think it'll look weird?" I ask, unable to picture it in my mind.

  "I've seen it before. It didn't look weird at all. Plus, your colors are great."

  "I was thinking I would put you in the purple, berry color and the girls in teal."

  "I thought you decided that berry was the primary color and teal was the accent."

  "I did, why?"

  "Then put me in teal and the girls in berry. It'll make more sense."

  Always the planner. What would I do without Em?

  Oh, yeah. I'd be in wedding hell. I sure as hell wouldn't have attempted to plan a wedding in less than three months.

  Slipping back into their respective dressing rooms, the girls change into their first-choice dresses. When they walk out and slide up next to each other, I see it.

  Them.

  In their colors.

  At the wedding.

  And they look amazing.

  "Yes. Yes. Yes."

  "Do you want us to try on the other ones?" Brianna asks, ready to retreat.

  "Not unless you want to. I like the way these three look next to each other. B, you might need to have yours taken up a bit so you don't trip, but otherwise, it fits you perfect. Em, yours is the perfect length and accentuates your shape. Jill," I begin, tripping over her name.

  My little sister looks amazing. Grown-up. Not the little girl I use to fight over Barbie dolls with.

  "Yours needs a little tuck around the waist but nothing major. You all look gorgeous."

  There are tears in my eyes. Noticing my emotional state, they all bum rush me and wrap their arms around me. The four of us share tears and hug it out until the sales clerk clears her throat.

  "What did you decide?" she asks, looking between the four of us before her eyes land on mine.

  "I'd like these two," I say motioning to Jill and B, "in the berry color we talked about and this one in the teal."

  "Fantastic. All I need is for you to bring the dress you have on up to the counter and we can get those ordered. They generally take seven to ten weeks-"

  "What?" I ask, cutting her off mid-sentence.

  "The standard time for them to arrive is seven to ten weeks. Is that a problem?"

  "My wedding is in eight weeks," I reply, gasping for breath.

  "You can pay for rush shipping. They'll be here in four to six weeks guaranteed. You'll want to meet with your seamstress to discuss alterations before they arrive. And since there are three of you, I recommend using different seamstresses so the work can be done simultaneously."

  Nodding, I relax a little knowing that the dresses will arrive in time. The girls get changed and order their dresses. It's been a long day and as much as I'd like to head home, relax in a hot bath, and drink a bottle of wine, I have a date with Em after this.

  More wedding stuff.

  The checklist in my purse is weighing me down, but after today, I'm hoping it will feel a lot lighter.

  "Give it to me," Em says as the waitress walks away with our order.

  Pulling the list from my purse, I slide it across the table.

  "It feels so long still. Shouldn't some of those things be taken care of already? Time is not on my side."

  Em pulls a pen from her purse and begins crossing stuff off the list. Watching her, she makes a few notes in the margins and then slides it to the middle of the table, turning it so we can both look at it.

  "Whoever made this list is an idiot. First of all, all these things I crossed out... optional. You don't want to do these," she says, circling three things with her pen. "These are better suited for an indoor wedding. And these, those are for religious ceremonies."

  "Okay, but that still leaves a lot to do."

  "But it's all little shit. For instance, you want to make the centerpieces yourself, right?" I nod. "We can head to the craft store after this and pick up all the stuff. That way, you can work on them when you’re bored. You could even make Tyler help you."

  Raising my eyebrow at her, Em ignores it and continues.

  "Flowers, all you have to do is call and place your order. We'll figure out how many you need today. You hired the DJ and Photographers, so all this," she says, circling more things on the list, "are things they will take care of. Except your song list. That's something you'll need to decide on. And Tyler should help with that."

  By the time our food arrives, Em's crossed off half my list.

  I've accomplished more than I thought in the short amount of time since I started planning. Tyler's taking care of the cake and the honeymoon. The only big thing left for me to figure out if the guest list.

  Invitations!

  "Em, what's the one thing that's not on that list that should be?"

  Reaching for the list, Em scans it a few times before I see the realization on her face. When she looks up at me she hesitates before sharing her realization.

  "Please tell me you ordered them at least," she finally remarks.

  "Nope."

  "Have you picked out your menu, yet?"

  "Nope."

  "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You need to email the lady you spoke with at the venue. You need to decide on your menu and then as soon as you have your options for dinner, you need to do e-vites. It's the only way to speed the process up. You set up your wedding website already, right?"

  Shaking my head, I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

  I've screwed up.

  In a major this-wedding-might-as-well-not-be-happening kind of way.

  No one will show up to our wedding because we haven't invited anyone.
<
br />   "Look, it's going to be fine. I sent out the shower invitations last week. When people call to RSVP I'll make sure to remind them to RSVP to the wedding. We'll play it off like they forgot, okay? No one has to know."

  Flipping the page over, Em writes me a list of things I need to do ASAP in the order they need to get done.

  1. Create a wedding website

  2. Contact venue, nail down menu

  3. INVITE GUESTS

  4. Order flowers

  5. Order cake - Tyler

  6. Tux fittings - Tyler

  By the time I'm headed home, the hot bath and bottle of wine sound heavenly. I need to unwind tonight; the stress from wedding planning has finally taken over my mind and body.

  Walking through the front door, soft music surrounds me. Tyler is in the living room, his phone in his hand, feverishly typing something.

  "Hey, babe," I say, plopping down on the couch next to him. The cushions sink around my body and I welcome the comfort they offer me.

  "Don't get comfortable. We have to leave in ten minutes."

  A whine escapes me but Ty's there to kiss it away.

  "You'll thank me later. I promise."

  Thanking him means sex, and I can't believe I'm about to say this but...

  "I'm too tired for sex," I complain.

  The entire time we've been together, I can only think of one other occasion I've turned down sex. And I felt horrible about it. Not just because I love having sex with Ty but because I love the look on his face after. It can only be described as pure satisfaction. It brings me great pride to know I've satisfied my man. That's why normally I'm the one that instigates the situation or makes sexual promises to get him to go along with what I want.

  I know in the end, he'll be as satisfied as I am.

  "No sex, babe. Not right now, anyway." Reaching for my hands, Ty pulls me to my feet. "It's my job to make sure you're taken care of and in my opinion, you need a little pampering so that's what you're going to get."

  "Pampering?" I ask, confused as he helps me into my coat.

  "Pampering," he echoes.

  Ushering me into the car, I try to get details, but he won't tell me more. All he keeps saying is that he needs to take care of me and that's what he's going to do. When his phone chimes, I snag it out of his lap before he can and slide my fingers across the screen.

  EMERSON: I scheduled a mud bath, facial, and an hour massage.

  Looking to Ty, he smiles at me before turning his attention back to the road.

  ME (as Tyler): Thank you.

  EMERSON: You're welcome. Take care of my BFF. I have a feeling she's more stressed than she'll ever admit.

  Emerson knows me too well. She can read me like an open book and know what I need before I need it. Scrolling up to read the rest of their conversation, I'm surprised by what I find.

  TYLER: You still with Ang?

  EMERSON: She just left. What's up?

  TYLER: How did things go today? Is she stressing out?

  EMERSON: Yeah. How did you know?

  TYLER: I just know. Can you do me a favor?

  EMERSON: Sure.

  TYLER: Can you call around and make an appointment at a spa for her? Today if possible.

  EMERSON: Consider it done.

  TYLER: Thanks.

  EMERSON: Center Street Day Spa. Thirty minutes. Is she home yet?

  TYLER: She just walked in.

  Apparently, my future husband can read me like an open book too. I shouldn't be surprised by this but I am. I'm also grateful.

  Emerson was right. I would never admit I was stressing out. It's not in my nature to admit defeat or failure. For him to notice means a lot. I'll have to thank him for that.

  Later.

  After my body has been soaked in mud and the stress has been massaged out of every muscle in my body. I may still feel exhausted after all that, but I'll be thinking about Tyler the entire time and how I plan to thank him with a massage of my own. His favorite kind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The guest list.

  It's like a living, breathing thing right now.

  If we don't invite so-and-so, we can't invite so-and-so. On the flip side, we can invite this person and that person. If we do that, we can't invite this person, though.

  It's not a matter of keeping it under a certain number. There's plenty of room for everyone. It's more about keeping the peace. Ang is concerned about hurting people's feelings and I'm about ready to tell everyone to go fuck themselves. Or hire security if necessary.

  "What if we invite everyone and seat them at opposite sides of the room," I suggest for the second time tonight.

  It's times like these I thank god for technology. We’re sending e-vites. Everyone has five days to RSVP and then they're kicked off the guest list. To ensure everyone replies, Angela is spending the next two days calling our guests.

  It's going to be a pain in the ass, but it's a necessity. The venue needs our final guest count in one week. With only a month until the wedding, I understand the urgency. Plus, it's our fault the invitations didn't go out when they were supposed to.

  Just don't mention that to Ang. It's been a sore spot since she realized.

  I'm also hoping that with the short notice, some of our 'concerning guests' won't be able to make it. That would make life a lot easier and less stressful for Angela.

  "You know what, I don't care anymore. If they fight, they fight. I'm not playing bouncer at my wedding and neither are you. If a fight breaks out, Ryder and Hunter can be in charge of kicking people out."

  There's my girl. The fighter. The takes-no-shit-from-anyone girl that I fell in love with.

  "I'll make sure they know."

  Ang pounds the keys on her laptop a few more times and then raises her hands in the air. "Done."

  "What's next?" I ask, my voice filled with dread instead of anticipation.

  "Seating chart."

  "Don't we have to wait for people to RSVP before we can do that?"

  We've been at this for two hours already, debating more things than I can count. It's Friday night. I can think of other things I'd rather be doing. Many. Other. Things.

  "Yes, but we already know most of who's going to be here. So, where do you want your family?" she asks, shoving a blank diagram in front of me. "You can either have them on this side of the room or down the middle. I want to leave these tables open for the troublemakers now that we've invited them all."

  An hour later, Angela cracks open a bottle of wine and we've moved on to music. The DJ needs a song list in the next week and since we're already in wedding planning hell, why not add to it, right?

  Wrong.

  It's not just the song list. It's the songs we'll dance to. The song she's going to dance to with her father and brother. The song I'll dance to with my mother. Everyone's getting their own damn song. Our reception is going to be the longest in history.

  All I want is to say "I do" and take my bride back to our hotel room and make love to her as husband and wife. If all this shit she's talking about has to happen, that won't be for hours after the ceremony.

  Plus, when do we eat? Do I even get to eat? I'll be starved by the time we dance. It's like four hours after the ceremony. That's seven hours after I'm required to be at the gardens. One I'm there, I'm not allowed to leave.

  I'm not sure how long she thinks it's going to take me to get ready, but it's not as long as it's going to take her. I'm thinking twenty minutes tops.

  Remove clothes, put on suit.

  Brush teeth. (I won't kiss her for the first time as her husband with bad breath. It's not going to happen.)

  Put on shoes.

  Walk down the aisle.

  "Ty. Are you even listening to me?" she asks, nudging me.

  "No," I reply before I can stop myself from being brutally honest with her.

  "You know, I can do this by myself. You offered to help."

  "I'm starting to regret it. I mean, it's just that I don't get why we
have to do all this. Can't you walk down the aisle, we kiss and then be alone?"

  "That's not how weddings work, babe."

  "I know. Pictures, dancing, all that shit."

  "Yes, all that shit," she mimics, laughing. "Look. It’s one day to get through. After that, I'm all yours, for the rest of your life, whether you want me or not. You, Tyler Herman Dixon, are stuck with me."

  I'm not sure how she does it, but Angela's words are exactly what I need to hear. They're the reassurance I need. My reward for going through the motions for one day... her.

  Forever.

  "You win. It's just a lot to do in one day. A lot of people to talk to, and it feels orchestrated, that's all. If this is what you want, if this is your dream wedding, I'll do it for you. Only for you."

  "Good, because we have a few more things we need to work out."

  Groaning, I lay my head in my hands and urge her to continue.

  "The bridal shower is tomorrow. Em's arranged for the guys to get fitted for your tuxes while it's going on, and then Ryder's taking you to the dome after to hit some balls. She wants us all to get dinner after, so the plan is to meet back at their house after you're done. What about your bachelor party? When is it?"

  This I can talk about.

  "The weekend before the wedding, why?"

  "That's when the girls want to have my bachelorette party. That's perfect. Where are you going?"

  "Where are you going?"

  We both stare each other down for a few minutes before we shrug our shoulders in unison.

  "Ryder won't tell you?" she asks, skeptically.

  When it came down to choosing between my brothers, we drew straws. Literally. I called them both into my office last week and asked them to draw straws. It would have been literally impossible to choose between them. I'm close to each of them in different ways.

  Ryder drew the short straw. That meant he had to man up and be the best man.

  It worked out well since Emerson is Angela's maid of honor. They were going to walk together anyway.