"What do I think?" I ask as I clench my hands and slowly rise. "Does anyone care what I think?" I do a visual sweep of the room, disheartened by the blank stares. Grace pops her head up and rises to stand beside me. Just as I thought. Other than Grace, nobody else cares.
"Of course we care, darling," Nora slurs as she sweeps her arm with drunken flourish toward everyone.
Tia swears something in Spanish and Marie snickers. Karri drops her gaze to the floor and then sulks away. A distinct ripping sound comes from Violet's dressing room.
I cock my hand on my hip and glare at Tia and Marie. "What I think is I need a drink. A big, strong one."
Tia gasps and shakes her head.
This time I don't repress the urge to hold back my feelings. I roll my eyes so hard, I imagine the whites are scraping the ceiling. "But I can't drink because I'm pregnant, so I'll have to settle for some chocolate." I grab my purse off the chair and turn to Grace. "Are you ready to go to lunch? I'm hungry."
"Yes, please." Grace doesn't bother saying good-bye to Violet as she grabs my hand and we head out the door.
"Where are you going?" Tia calls behind us, but neither of us look back as we jump into Grace's car and peel out of the lot.
***
Grace and I are sitting across from each other in a cozy booth at a posh little café. Country Christmas music filters in from speakers all around the café. I actually don't mind it so much. George Straight's Christmas Cookies song is one of my favorites. It brings back a fond memory of Karri's mom baking sugar cookies with us when we were kids.
I like how they've decorated the place with pinecone wreaths and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. We've already gotten our drinks, and I'm anxiously awaiting my order. Grace has promised me "The World's Best Brownie." I so wanted a double latte with an extra heaping of whipped cream and shaved chocolate, but I've opted for an organic green tea with stevia instead. Andrés would be proud of me... well, except for the brownie part.
Marie has already texted me three times asking if I'm coming back to the bridal shop. I have no idea how Marie got my number. I'm assuming Tia gave it to her. I don't need the added stress right now, so I choose to power down my phone rather than answer her.
"I don't want Karri and Marie as my bridesmaids, and no offense, but Violet really doesn't look happy in a dress." I take a sip of my tea, and try to swallow it without tasting. I've never gotten used to the odd flavor, and I suspect the tea gets its green coloring from runny diaper doo. I swear this stuff leaves a pungent aftertaste that's almost as bad as kissing Jackson.
Grace pulls a face, looking as if she's just swallowed a lemon wedge in her organic green tea. No, wait, maybe it's the tea. "I guess it's not her thing," she says with an exasperated breath.
Now I feel bad. I play with the string on my stinky tea bag and slump in my seat as I think about how this whole wedding is going down the toilet. Most of my bridal party is made up of people I don't want (or else people who don't want) to be in my wedding.
"Then don't make her wear it."
I think back to Violet as she came out in that dress and wig. Other than that twisted scowl, she makes a hot chick. Too bad she doesn't want to be in my wedding. Then again, maybe I don't want two lanky beauties outshining me on my special day. It's bad enough I'll probably be bloated and "soiled."
"I was trying to help you. I want you to have enough bridesmaids." Grace flashes a woeful smile, the kind of smile I'd give to a three-legged dog or a homeless baby. Okay, maybe I went a little overboard with the homeless baby part, but the smile oozed pity, and the fact that my wedding is turning into a charity case is over-the-top humiliating.
"I did have enough." I square my shoulders and turn up my chin. "I had you. I don't want anyone to do anything they don't want to do. I want my wedding to be happy and fun." Images of Violet ripping off her wig and Marie's smug smile flash through my mind. I pound the table with my fist. "I want red flowers on my dress. I want fucking tamales!" I cringe when I hear a gasp at the booth behind us, and I drop my voice to a strained whisper. "I don't want this wedding. Not like this."
Grace's blue eyes turn as dark as a stormy sea. "Do you want me to tell them to back off?"
"No." I groan as I push aside my tea cup. "That will piss them off even more."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." I feign a smile. "Eat chocolate." I really wish the waiter would hurry up with my brownie. Maybe if I get enough chocolate in my system, I'll forget all of my troubles in a sugar induced haze.