I’m pretty sure that made me adore him even more.
Sofie came to watch the Colorado game, but Noelle wasn’t able to; she’s short-staffed. So, of course, the conversations went from the game, and how shitty Johnson played, and how the guys wouldn’t look so exhausted when Moretti was back, to all the ways Sofie wanted to ruin Laurens’ wedding.
“Can you even imagine her flowers?” Sofie gags.
Nalani narrows her eyes. “You mean Lauren’s floral arrangements.”
“Correct,” Sofie says. “I am thinking Venus flytraps in the centerpieces. Symbolic.”
I laugh. “Symbolic of what, exactly?”
“Karma. Maybe it would chomp off her ring finger. Her dress splattered with her blood, the whole place would freak out, and not because of the blood itself, but the color. They’d know she was not born with blue blood.” Sofie says without hesitation. “And she totally deserves it. She once told me my boots looked like something a toddler wore to stomp in mud.”
Nalani shrugs. “I mean, they kind of did.”
She throws a pillow at her. “They were cool as hell, Prada Monolith patent leather combat boots. But that’s not the point.”
From there, the ideas get worse. Or better. Depends on your definition.
Sofie taps her lip. “What if she has one of those bridesmaids’ choreographed dances when they come down the aisle, and themusic skips. On purpose. And they keep doing the same move over and over again.”
Nalani snorts. “What music.”
Sofie waves a hand. “There is always music.”
I lean back on the couch, burping Savannah. “Sabotage by DJ.”
“Exactly,” Sofie says. “But subtle.”
Nothing Sofie has ever done is subtle.
“Or,” she continues, “we replace her unity candle with one of those trick birthday candles that keep lighting, it never goes out. She’d have a freaking meltdown.”
Nalani pauses mid-sip of her wine, eyes dancing with mischief. “No. Hear me out. What if it sparks?Like a firework.”
“And the cake explodes?” Sofie asks.
I blink. “Are you trying to make her go viral or get arrested?”
“Depends on the dress,” Sofie says. “I bet it’s awful.”
After Savannah has fallen asleep, I take her up and tuck her in, say her prayers, and head back down —baby monitor in hand— to rejoin them.
I love hockey, but truth be told, without Deacon playing, it’s just hockey. I haven’t even seen him on camera once.
The conversation with Nalani and Sofie about Laurens’ dress, however, keeps me in stitches.
By the third period, we are all laughing so hard that I cannot feel my stomach. The guys are on the road, exhausted, grinding, and here we are plotting to replace Lauren’s wedding cake with one shaped like a giant middle finger.
“Crabs in her garment bag?” Both Nalani’s and my jaws drop. “Kidding,” Sofie says. Then she whispers, “Not really.”
“She’s being such a pain in the ass about dress shopping for that snatch’s wedding.”
The night ends with a Bears win and a text message.
Deacon:
How was yours and the little one’s day?
