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I could see her and my family by coming here on a weekend, but that wouldn’t have been possible in the reverse. I didn’t have enough room at my duplex to accommodate everybody simultaneously.
Rachel pointed at my cellphone lying beside me on the floor. “I need to hear some music, sister. Be the D.J. this evening.”
“Country?” I joked. It was all she listened to, as well as Macie.
“Um, yessss. Has living in a big city changed your taste in music?”
“I still listen to country music, but thanks to Chad, I now enjoy other genres.”
Macie rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me. He likes classical shit.”
“He certainly does. He also likes jazz, classic rock, and pop rock.”
“Gag. Play some George Strait.”
While his greatest hits were streaming on Pandora, my girls and I chatted about shopping for my wedding dress. They, my momma, and I had already been twice, but I didn’t care for any dresses I picked out after putting them on. They were gorgeous on the hanger but not on me, or so I thought. I concluded that I hadn’t found “the one” and would know when I did. It was out there in some store waiting for me to discover it.
“You’ve got three months to find a dress. Actually, you have less time than that because you’ve got to factor in the possibility of needing to have it altered,” Macie reminded me, although I didn’t need reminding.
“I know.”
“So, are we still going shopping for one tomorrow?”
I kept looking at her pretty aqua eyes, partially covered by her wispy blond bangs. Then I glanced over at my sister.
“No, I changed my mind,” I finally said. “I’m not in the mood to do anything other than stay here in Cypress Hills this weekend. I need to relax and enjoy being home.”
“I’m all for your doing that, but when do you see us going shopping again?” Macie asked.
“I’ll come back in two weeks. We’ll go to Shreveport and Bossier City, check out the bridal stores there, and then eat at Ralph and Kacoo’s.”
“Oh my gosh, yes! I can already taste their boudin balls with that jalapeno-ranch dip.”
“And I can already taste their Shrimp St. Charles dish.”
Macie pointed at me. “I’m holding you to this plan, BFF.”
“That’s fine.”
My sister tipped her almost empty wine glass at me. She liked the plan and would hold me to it, too.
“Back to the wedding stuff. Are you still set on having a daisy bouquet?” Macie asked.
“I am. I think it’s the perfect way to honor my grandma since daisies are her favorite.”
“Yours, too.”
I nodded and faked a smile while thinking about all the beautiful bouquets of them that I’d been given in the past. I kept a daisy from each one, dried it on a flat surface, and then sprayed it with clear paint to preserve it. Those delicate white and yellow flowers were tucked away in a box I kept in my bedroom closet. Not the one at my duplex. The one here, at my momma and daddy’s. When I moved to Fort Worth, I couldn’t take the box with me because I knew how tempting it’d be to repeatedly open it and look at the daisies and the pictures and letters I’d placed alongside them.
Feeling the sting in my eyes, I looked down at my cellphone and forwarded to the next George Strait song, trying to play it cool. That was when my sister brought up my agreement with Chad to have macaroons at our wedding.
“I still can’t believe you did that. I wouldn’t have,” she said.
“Yes, you would, to make Jackson happy. That’s what I’m doing for Chad since he dislikes the taste of a traditional wedding cake. And you know, it’s not all about me.”
“It most certainly is! The wedding is always about the bride. Hundred percent. Besides, Chad is going to have a groom’s cake.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m good with him having macaroons too.”
