Not that there’s much romance going on in mine.
But still. I keep envisioning Ryan opening the door for his date, making her laugh over dinner, and it just fills me with this icky feeling mixed with a slight rage that I can’t explain.
Instead of dwelling on it, I focus on Friday’s task—cake tasting, our first attempt at wedding planning. It was supposed to just be for me, Zach, and our moms. But when our dads heard there would be free cake—is it really free if you’re expected to order a giant wedding cake at the end of it?—they insisted they tag along, too.
“Hear me out,” my dad says as we walk in the door of Fairy Tale Bakery, a local bake shop with cream walls and white tables. “Peanut butter chocolate.”
Mom glances around the shop, but no one is behind the counter. She bends down to peruse the different treats. “I already submitted our requests,” she says without looking at my dad.
Dad lowers himself beside her. “And?”
“And…peanut butter chocolate is one of them.” She straightens and smirks at me as the dads hit each other with a big high five.
Mom shakes her head at them, but it’s all in good fun. “Of course I ordered that. It’s your favorite.”
“You’re the best.” Dad gives Mom a little squeeze around the waist, causing her to yelp and laugh. I grin at the two of them and look over at Zach, but he’s busy on his phone and not paying attention to the display in front of us.
I realize my mom never asked for my request, which would have been a white cake with strawberries. Hopefully there’s something similar here.
“Hello!” Julie calls out. “We’re here for our appointment!”
A slim blonde woman comes through the swinging doors. “Bonjour. The Beaumont family, yes?” she asks in a thick French accent. She frowns at us. “The reservation is for four people.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Mom says, grinning apologetically. “Our husbands wanted to join the fun.”
“Hmph.” The woman is not impressed. She gives a little grunt and mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot likeAmericans.“Well, take a seat.” She gestures at the table in the cramped corner that very clearly is only for four people, and I squirm a little.
“I can wait outside,” I say. “If it’s too much. I trust your opinions, and?—”
“That’s ridiculous!” Julie says, pulling my arm and plopping me down in a chair. “You’re thebride. No one else’s opinions matter as much as yours.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard, a little uncomfortable with that statement. Really? My opinion matters the most? Hello, pressure.
Zach sits next to me, still on his phone, and the dads gesture for our moms to take the two remaining seats. “I don’t need to sit,” Dad says. “I just need cake.”
The baker grunts again and mutters more words under her breath, but I think this time they’re in French. “My name is Emily,” she says aloud. “I’ll be back in a minute with your samples.” She looks at us sitting at the table. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“I’ll take tea,” I say.
“Coffee for us,” my mom says, gesturing at herself and Julie.
Zach stays silent, and I gently put a hand on his arm. “Hey. Do you want some tea or coffee?”
He sets down his phone and looks at me, as if he’s just realizing where we are. “Tea. Sure.”
“I’ll take a coffee, too,” Dad adds.
Emily glares at my dad. “Two teas, and TWO coffees.” A whoosh of air hits us as she spins around and heads back into the kitchen.
“Yikes,” Mike says. “Way to start off on the right foot.”
“Cake,” Dad says emphatically to Mike. “Just think about the cake.”
Mike hums, and I grin. I look back at Zach, who’s no longer on his phone.
“So, this is it!” I exclaim. “First official wedding business.”
He grins at me. “I’m sure you’re super excited to get started.”
