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“You bet your buttons!”
The line went dead just like her heartbeat for all of ten seconds. Or at least she wished it would.
Nothing to do now but smile her way through it. Might as well act like the blush hitting her cheeks was just part of the fun. “Long, very long story. Keep an eye out on our Facebook for the deets.”
Might as well go with the roll, Juniper.
She held her smile in place and waved at the camera. If anything, they’d get a few more likes on their business fan page. Lemons to lemon pie.
Juniper took a second to absorb the last sixty seconds of her life. She did not just have a conversation with her grandmother about edible underwear and vibrators. “I bet no one in the history of wedding planning ever used those two things in one sentence before,” she mumbled low.
“Earth to Juniper. We are a go. The bride is walking the aisle! Are we a go? Repeat—the best man looks like he’s about to eat carpet he’s so pale.”
Ah crap! “Yeah, well, he should have spent his pre-wedding night learning his lines instead face first in a set of stripper’s tits and booze. But I’m on it.” Juniper ducked out of the kitchen and found a little nook big enough to squeeze into unseen.
“God, please let all this work out.”
Six hours later Juniper thanked her lucky stars for overly stuffed armchairs and cushiony footrests. Like puffy clouds from heaven. She sighed as her ass sank another few inches into a lounged-back plush armchair that looked straight off a movie set and toed the cream-colored torture devices holding her feet hostage to the side. “Fifteen plus hours in those things should come with hazardous pay.”
“No kidding.” Callie mimicked her motions, adding in a couple of moans as her feet hit the cold marble flooring.
“The last of the guests have officially left the building and–”
“—the bride and her man are off to get their groove on in Tahiti.”
“Bingo. We did it! I can’t believe what she said about us on TV! Oh my God! I’m still flying high!”
Juniper raised her bowtie-dressed martini glass as Callie met her halfway with her own.
She’d be smiling for a week. Maybe more. “I asked for a written recommendation to include in our pamphlets. Not a gushing outpouring of her soul on what she thinks of us and Vows from Juniper. But I’ll take it, thank you, Universe and Gretchen Stewart!”
Callie raised her glass again. “I’ll toast to that and to another successful marriage of love?—”
“—happiness.”
“And never having to walk the red carpet alone again.”
“Amen!”
“Come on, how long do you think it will last?”
“Given her track record, at least three years. That beefcake she just tied herself too is too good to let go too fast.”
“Juniper!” Callie gushed, laughing. “But I’ll one-up you. I bet he has a lot of stamina.”
They both sat back and let the day settle over them. Nestled away from the cleaning crew already in full swing one could appreciate how the other one percent of humanity lived.
“Did you call the driver?”
“Should be here within ten,” Callie confirmed around another mouthful of what she liked to call liquid happiness. “And speaking of all this togetherness,” Callie crossed her legs, the gold of her dress sparkling in the soft light of the parlor and leaned over the arm of her chair nearest her own. “About your date tonight,” she whispered.
Juniper sprang up. “Oh crap, Callie! Eric! I totally spaced out. He’ll be so freaking disappointed. Again!”
“Chill, boss lady. I’ve gottcha you covered. I called to let him know you would be a half-hour late. He said not to worry. He’d wait for you at the restaurant.”
Eric. He worked the tall, dark, and dangerously handsome vibe like nobody’s business. With a degree in journalism and professional photography, Juniper found him interesting, why that didn’t translate to more was anyone’s guess.
Juniper had her doubts anything between them would stand the strain of the weeks he spent away on assignment, but after several work-related dinner dates, he whittled down her defenses. What could she say, candlelit dinners, dimples, and hardeverythingwere her weaknesses.
