Always a Bridesmaid

by Cindi Madsen

  He strolled past her and rounded the counter to hug Lucia, who greeted him with a smacking kiss on his cheek. He embraced the beautiful blonde next and finished off by fist-bumping the bride-to-be.

  “Ah, so you’ve met my bridesmaid-slash-best-man,” Addie said. “Or did we decide to go with bro of honor?” Her head cocked a couple more degrees. “Dude of honor?”

  Ford shrugged his big shoulders. “I’m not picky. And while I’m lost with the rest of the wedding-planning stuff, I’m fully qualified for cake tasting.” He twisted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “I’ve only got an hour before I have to be back home, though. No rest for the wicked and all that.”

  Violet gawked at the scene before her, struggling to process. Every time she visited this town, she discovered a new layer of bizarre. Apparently nontraditional was the new traditional.

  Which, honestly, she hadn’t expected from a place she’d thought time had forgotten. If she hadn’t already made her mind up about Uncertainty, she might even find it refreshing.

  “Mind helping me grab the samples?” Maisy asked, nudging Violet’s arm.

  “As long as you don’t need me to bake them,” Violet said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  Once the various samples were placed in the center of the largest table, Violet moved aside. Time to finish drawing up plans for these walls.

  Her trusty notebook served as a tiny shield and item to cling to, but the people who filtered in and out of the bakery—and the conversation from the wedding party—kept snagging her curiosity.

  If Violet hadn’t heard the words “bridesmaid-slash-best-man,” she’d assume Addie and Ford were the betrothed couple. They were obviously close, yet there was something lighter than romance. As they mmmed over the samples, they snickered, verbally jabbed, and shoved each other’s shoulders, as if they were casual observers instead of choosing one of the mainstays of a wedding.

  “Are you two even paying attention?” Lexi asked, and both Ford and Addie shot up in their seats, like two kids who’d gotten in trouble at school. The blonde lowered the notepad she’d pulled from her Louis Vuitton purse and muttered about the almond cake.

  Ford glanced over his shoulder in Violet’s direction. Too late, she spun to face the wall, fighting the urge to bang her head on it, since he’d caught her staring. It was about the group dynamic, not him.

  Not that she hadn’t admired the way he kept sliding extra bites toward Lucia, his easy laugh, and his effortless charm. But that just meant he had a conniving side that drew women in so he could later screw them over.

  Total player. I can smell it from a mile away.

  Now.

  Naively, she’d thought the fact that she and Benjamin had been in a committed relationship negated his player qualities. Like how he’d check out women whenever they were out and about. She’d written it off as him being a typical male who couldn’t get his ogle under control. Now she realized he’d never stopped searching for someone prettier and better than she was.

  Sometimes he’d go a whole week without acknowledging her, besides to criticize her absentmindedness. Eventually, she would get upset, and then he’d apologize and make a grand gesture that lulled her into a false sense of security.

  Which is why I’m done with men in general.

  No more falling for their tricks. Nope, nope, nope.

  Violet busied herself with the multicolored wall stickers she’d discovered on Etsy. She’d originally planned to buy stencils, but she’d found vinyl watercolor dots that were bright, whimsical, and the perfect size.

  “Excuse me…” she heard, followed by a gravelly, “Her name’s Violet.”

  “Excuse me, Violet.” Out of the corner of her eye, manicured fingernails flashed, signaling it’d come from the blond bridesmaid. “Could I ask your opinion on something?”

  Violet slowly pivoted toward the table with the wedding party. Four sets of eyes were on her, but for some reason, her gaze went to the one male pair. In this light, she couldn’t tell if they were hazel or green, and why did that matter?

  She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Just ask Ford—baking and I don’t mix.”

  Damn it. Why had she set herself up for an embarrassing retelling of yesterday’s disaster?

  Lexi rose from her chair and grabbed Violet’s hand. “Don’t worry.” She guided her into the seat next to her. Which, as her shoddy luck would have it, was also next to Ford. “I just need another female perspective. While Addie is technically female, she’s missing the part of her brain that cares about decorations, dresses, and ensuring the cake is the pièce de résistance it should be.”

  While this Lexi chick was fancier than Violet ever would be, she agreed on that point. Yes, cake made any celebration better, but a wedding cake symbolized a commitment to provide for each other. Cutting from the bottom tier signified longevity.

  Addie slumped back in her chair, legs spread wide. “She’s not wrong. I’ve decided on white chocolate with raspberry cream, but as far as style goes, I’m lost. When it comes to cake, my goal is to take a bite ASAP, not note how fancy it is. And big extravagant cakes scare me because I just know I’ll bump into the table, knock the whole thing over, and ruin everything.”

  “In this case, you’ll be the bride, so people would forgive you.” Lexi shot Addie a semi-stern expression. “Don’t you dare knock it over, though—that’s not the goal, and I can’t believe I have to even say that, but I feel like I do.”

  “Yeah.” Ford flicked Addie on the arm. “Stop trying to sabotage your own wedding. But if you do happen to knock it over, I’ll declare a food fight, and we’ll turn the party right around. It’ll be like sixth grade all over again, when you pelted Derek Wheeler with your apple for saying girls couldn’t throw as good as boys.”

  Addie snorted. “I got in so much trouble, but my detention didn’t last nearly as long as his black eye.”

  The full glare Lexi aimed at the pair made Violet want to slink away but didn’t seem to bother Ford in the least.

  Addie flashed an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. Seriously, I couldn’t care less about what the cake looks like. I’m sure whatever Maisy makes will be awesome.”

  “See what I mean about needing another female perspective?”

  Violet couldn’t help but glance at the grandmother.

  “I am also female,” Lucia said. “But I say whatever makes cake easiest to sneak underneath my daughter-in-law’s nose, and apparently that’s no an acceptable answer.” The legs of her chair scraped the floor. “Speaking of smuggling, I gonna go get the brownie bites before my parole officer checks in.”

  For an older lady, she certainly could hustle. She rushed over to the cash register and began pointing at the treats, and Brooke, the nineteen-year-old who worked part-time at the bakery, gathered them into a box.

  Lexi sighed. “If Maisy wasn’t so busy, I’d ask her for help with my confounded wedding crew. If only I hadn’t left my binder in my car, I’d at least have examples. Anyway, could you weigh in? For instance, how many weddings have you been to where the cake hasn’t had more than one tier? Addie was like, why not just have a giant flat cake? Like it’s a barbecue or someone’s retirement party.”

  Way too aware of the guy on her other side and how heavy his gaze pressed against her, Violet licked her lips. “Admittedly, I’ve been to a lot of weddings—in fact, I’ve been a bridesmaid seven times. And every cake has been a tiered work of art. Personally, I love seeing the way a couple expresses themselves in so many different ways, from the cake to the decor to the bridesmaids dresses and tuxes and gah, the wedding dress.”

  Tingles erupted, rushing through her entire body, the overly romantic girl she used to be tiptoeing to the forefront. “There are so many options and variations, and yet, each bride always manages to pick the perfect combination for herself. You can see how amazing
she feels, too, not only about the dress and the setting but committing to the one special person who loves her inside and out.”

  Oops. Violet had gotten caught up in the dozens of ceremonies she’d witnessed in person, through her camera lens, and on the pages of magazines, momentarily forgetting that she was no longer obsessed with planning the perfect wedding.

  She’d given that up. Now she was on the aisleless straight and narrow. A single pringle for life.

  The string of pink pearls Lexi clutched paired perfectly with her aquamarine dress. “Praise the Lawd, someone who actually gets it. Seriously, I love you…” She scrunched up her eyebrows. “Violet, was it?”

  Based on Ford’s fidgeting, Violet had scared him with her passionate spiel. Had he scooted away from her, or was that her imagination? Either way, spooking him would only be beneficial when it came to her no-guy decree.

  So instead of diminishing what she’d already said, she thought of the four-page spread of wedding cakes in her binder. “Yes, and I think I can help even more.” The least she could do was lend a hand, since Lexi was practically planning the event solo. “Do you want the cake to be one texture or different textures for each tier? What about a topper? Lately I’ve been digging floral bouquets with flowers cascading down to the bottom. What flowers have you chosen?”

  Lexi tapped her glittery gold pen to her notebook. “What are you thinking for flowers, Addie?”

  “Yes,” Addie said. At Lexi and Violet’s mutual gaping, she wrinkled her nose. “Is that not the right answer?”

  Violet smiled, attempting to undo the shock she’d aimed Addie’s way. “Customarily, a bride selects flowers she likes. Or she might choose based on the colors she’s decided on.”

  Addie bit her thumbnail. “Um, I don’t have colors picked out, either.”

  “No worries. What kind of flowers do you like?”

  Addie shrugged and looked at Ford, who also shrugged. Watching their interactions from this angle, Violet realized they didn’t act like a couple at all. More like siblings—not that she would really know what that entailed.

  “Come on,” Lexi coaxed, stretching her hand across the table to cover Addie’s. “Surely you’ve spotted flowers somewhere and thought, I enjoy those.”

  “Yellow dandelions make me happy.”

  “Then they turn white and you can blow them and make wishes and shit,” Ford added.

  Lexi’s eye twitched, but her smile remained plastered on her face. “Those are weeds. Try again.”

  Addie wound the end of her ponytail around her finger. “Ooh, how about those tiny white ones that open in the morning? They have a hint of pink or purple stripes inside. I accidentally mangled a patch the last time we played Fugitive.”

  “Are you talking about morning glories? Because those are weeds, too, my dear.” Lexi rubbed a couple of fingers across her forehead. “Let me guess, you want a weed bouquet now.”

  Addie giggled. “Weed. That’ll be one way to keep everyone nice and mellow at the ceremony and reception.”

  “I vote yes,” Ford said. “After all the pranks we’ve pulled on the fine citizens of our town, that’s about the only way they’ll relax and enjoy themselves during this shindig.”

  “Excellent point. Though we might have to put a barbwire fence around the cake in case they get the munchies before it’s time. What decor is that? Farm chic?”

  “Prison-yard love, I think.”

  “Dude, later we’re gonna have to have a talk about what prison-yard love means.” Addie patted Ford’s knee. “Here’s a hint and a tip all in one: don’t drop the soap.”

  The two of them devolved into laughter, flowers no longer on their radar.

  Lexi swept her arm toward the duo. “Do you see what I’m dealing with? A bride who doesn’t care about decorations or flowers and her man of honor, who is as clueless about wedding stuff as she is.”

  “I told you to go ahead and choose whatever on my behalf,” Addie said, a pinch of offense in the words.

  “I thought you’d change your mind once we dove in. The entire un-stoned town is going to be there, and if I’m going to do the majority of the planning, I at least need a sounding board. Asking you two for advice is like talking into a void.”

  Addie wiped at the tears her laughter had caused. “Sorry, Lexi. You’re amazing for taking this on, and I’d be totally lost without you, so please don’t let my lack of girliness send you running. I’ll do better. I promise.”

  She nudged Ford with her elbow.

  “Yeah, me, too.” Ford followed up his statement by nudging Violet.

  She twisted his way, her instincts failing to remind her she wasn’t going to look directly at him until it was too late. Her mouth went dry—her memory of his face up close didn’t do it justice. Unlike a lot of the guys in Pensacola, his beard wasn’t perfectly groomed, but untamed, a couple days’ growth from out-of-control. One corner of his lips tipped a smidge higher than the other, as if he always had a smile at the ready.

  Hello, do not look at his lips!

  Recalling the nudge that’d made her focus way too much on him, she asked, “What? How can I do better when I barely got here?”

  “Where’s my nonna? She’d at least have an opinion on flowers—she still sneaks over to the neighbors’ yard late at night to water the ones she planted when they were out of town.” Addie surveyed the front of the bakery, but Lucia was no longer there. “Oh great, I’ve lost her. I bet you anything she went to the diner to check if anyone would let her order a burger and fries. My mom is seriously going to kill me.”

  With everyone distracted, Violet decided to take her leave. “Well, sounds like you’re getting it all figured out.” She scooted her chair away from the table, already halfway out of it. “I should get back to work. I’m planning out the bakery remodel and—”

  “Come on, Violet,” Ford said, as though they’d known each other for years instead of hours. He placed his hand over the one she had on the table and her heart thump, thump, thumped. “Help a couple of guys and one desperate wedding planner out.”

  For a second, she was confused, but then she figured out he was counting Addie as a guy.

  “What I should’ve mentioned is that I’m a recovering bridesmaid.” Talking wedding options and showing proof of how many she’d gathered were entirely different things, and there was no way in hell she could show Lexi and Addie her binder with Ford there.

  More than that, it’d be too painful, and she never should’ve sat down in the first place.

  The alarm in her head wailed, behind as usual.

  Recovery was a slippery slope—one she was way too close to sliding down headfirst.

  “How’s it going over here?” Maisy asked as she approached the table. “I’m so sorry I don’t have a look book. I’ve only done a couple of weddings so far, but if you have a picture, I can make it.”

  The apologetic note in her sister’s voice dug at Violet.

  “I feel so unprepared,” Lexi said. “Maybe I should drive home and come back.”

  “No,” Addie and Ford both said at the same time, and Addie elaborated with, “I don’t want you to go to all that trouble when I should be able to handle something so simple.”

  Part of Violet wanted to suggest they search up cakes on their phones, but service in town was slow and spotty, and it was hard to make a solid decision on thumbnail images.

  The chime over the door sounded again, and Maisy turned to greet her customers. Saturdays were busy, and right now the best way she could help her sister was by doing the last thing she wanted to.

  Why me? “Okay, fine. I’ll be right back with something that might help.”

  Bright side spin: if her binder could be used for good, maybe it’d help her let go of everything it stood for.

  …

  Damn, she smells nice.


  The scent of Violet’s perfume lingered in the air, and Ford might’ve watched her walk out of the bakery a bit too closely.

  What on earth had she meant with that recovering bridesmaid remark? She’d made it sound as if wearing colorful dresses and holding a bouquet was an addiction she needed to kick. Didn’t mean she wasn’t engaged, and if she loved weddings as much as her spiel suggested… Yikes.

  With her gone, it was easier to concentrate, but it wasn’t like he suddenly became a wedding-cake expert. Unless being sure he could eat a whole one himself was useful. To further complicate matters, he was growing more and more aware of the time.

  Ford needed to get going on his day, but he didn’t want to hurt Lexi’s or Murph’s feelings. Addie would understand that he was on a tight puppy-training schedule, but she was the one who’d always been there for him. The one who listened without judgment when he told her about rough jobs and confessed that, once in a while, they got to him.

  It’d taken months to open up to her about the aftermath of the last hurricane and everything that’d happened when he went down to the gulf. Of course Addie had told him he shouldn’t blame himself. She’d reassured him that people had to rest now and again and that anyone could’ve made the same mistake, but he couldn’t let himself off that easily.

  The chime on the door sounded, and Violet strolled inside.

  While yesterday he’d found her disheveled appearance a little too captivating, today she was less harried, her brown hair hanging in loose waves around her shoulders. Her shirt was about as red as her face had been when she’d come into the kitchen talking about hiding from him. He was still a big fan of the yoga pants, but her snug jeans also displayed her figure rather nicely.

  As she moved closer, he caught sight of the glittery purple object in her hands. The very same item she’d snatched from him in the alleyway.

  She sat between him and Lexi and plopped the binder on the table. Then she moved her fingers along the tabs, mumbling until she reached the middle section. A page slipped free as she opened the book, and she quickly tucked it underneath the back cover. “Here you go. Several cakes to check out.”