Forgetting August(109)

“Well, let’s get this thing started.”

* * *



“I need caffeine!” I whined, nearly falling into the quaint coffee shop that had served as my employer for nearly three years. The familiar scent that greeted me felt like a warm, snug blanket was being wrapped around my senses. This place was tiring at times, and the hours sometimes sucked, but it had always felt like home.

“I need new legs!” Sarah cried out. “You’re a slave driver!” She staggered into the nearest chair, her head falling to the table with a thud. “So tired,” she mumbled against the hard wood.

“I didn’t mention we were planning everything today?” I said with a wink as I walked up to the counter to greet my coworker Trudy.

“No—you definitely did not. And if you had, I would have worn different shoes.” To make her point, she held out her foot, displaying her very adorable, incredibly high-heeled, wedged sandals. They were tan, with accents of lime green that perfectly matched the bright hues of her sundress.

And she’d bought them on sale—a fact she’d told me with great pride this morning on the way to our first appointment.

But thanks to me and my ambitious schedule, she now hated them—with a passion.

Everything in the world was currently my fault, according to Sarah. But, I’d had a plan when we’d left the house today, and I didn’t want it ruined by her overachiever brain. So, I’d left a few key items out of the agenda. Like the florist appointment…and the bakery appointment…and every other bridal-type duty you would need to handle before a wedding.

I’d finally decided to pick a wedding date—to get married and start my life. I’d been a runner for as long as I could remember, darting as soon as life got rough. When Ryan and I fought, I needed air. When things got too real with August, I made excuses and fled. It was why my own fiancé had been the one to help me come to terms with my feelings for August.

It was wrong. So wrong. And it needed to stop.

From now on, I would have my feet firmly planted on the ground. No more running, starting with this wedding, and to make sure I stayed where I was supposed to be—I’d plan the entire thing from start to finish, so help me God.

However, I wasn’t stupid. I realized I would eventually need Sarah’s assistance and expertise. There’s a reason I work in a coffee shop. The work attire only requires jeans and t-shirts every day of the year, and I barely have to wear makeup. I am a low-maintenance girl. But usually, when I asked for Sarah’s assistance, it came in overwhelming waves. So, I’d fibbed a little and told her we were meeting up today to look at one or two venue options.

Okay, I lied a lot.

Did I feel bad? I looked at her hunched over the table, mumbling about her pretty, pretty shoes.

Maybe a little.

“Two of the usual?” Trudy asked, with a wink in Sarah’s direction.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Maybe a small brownie, too,” I added, biting my lip in indecision. Sweets were always a risk when Sarah was moody. With the strict stage diet she always followed when she was performing, and her lingering issues due to years of eating disorders, I always knew to tread lightly when it came to food. But I decided that for today, the chocolate was definitely needed, and today, I needed all the help I could get.

With coffee and chocolate in hand, I walked back and placed the cups down on the table. The aroma immediately brought her face skyward, as she eyed the coffee first and then the brownie with a frown.

“That whole thing is mine. You don’t get a single bite,” she snarled, kicking loose her sandals underneath the table.

I grinned, nodding. “Deal.”

“So, why didn’t you tell me we were planning your entire wedding in a day?”

I shrugged, “I guess I wanted to be in charge of it.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t let you if I knew?” she asked, taking a long sip of coffee before breaking off a piece of the decadent brownie.

“I don’t know. Part of me feels bad for the way I acted before. I never got involved—never played the happy bride.”

“And so now you’re overcompensating? Are you sure this isn’t compensation for something else?” Her eyes met mine as our conversation took a turn toward the serious.

“What do you mean?” I asked, clutching my favorite ceramic coffee cup for warmth. It was the same cup I used on all my shifts. It had a cheesy one liner that said “Meh”. My customers loved it.

“Look, I know you are firm in this decision and I see you’re happy, but no one is forcing you into marriage. You don’t have to marry Ryan to prove you’re over August.”