He was checking items off his list while I paced in the hall. The house was filling with our friends and family, and the band was playing a song that I recognized from Tiel's incessant humming but could never name.
"What's the story with that cake again?"
"It's not a cake," I said. "It's a watermelon carved to look like a pink layer cake with meringue frosting, with twelve tiers of French macaroons on top of it."
"Right. I'll let you explain that to people," he murmured. "My guy from Newport has the two bars prepped, and three bartenders at each. Even for this crowd, that should be enough. And Gigi's almost done with the little alpine and manzanita trees, and—"
I stopped short and whirled around. "Magnolia Gigi? Tell me Magnolia Gigi isnothere."
He glanced up, and if his impatient glare wasn't enough, his arched eyebrow and hipshot stance told me how much he appreciated my question.
"She's not staying," he snapped. "I told her she should, but she said she didn't want to upset you or Tiel."
"Oh, thank God," I said, scrubbing a hand over my face.
"You need to make that shit right," he said. "She didn't do anything wrong. You're the asshole in this situation."
"Great. Of course. I'll deal with that when it's not my wedding day, okay?" Riley offered a flippant shrug in response. "Would you care to explain to my wife-to-be that instead of talking her off whichever ledge she's climbed out on today, I'm going to smooth things over with Roof Garden Girl?Really? I'll sort this out with Magnolia after my honeymoon, but right now? No. No, Tiel is the only woman I'm worrying about today."
"It's fine," Riley murmured. "I told her to charge you double anyway."
"Perfect," I said. "Are there any other women who I've wronged or crises to address, or can I get back to convincing Tiel to go through with this?"
He glared at me again. "Like I was saying, the little trees are almost done and all the lights are strung. I checked in with Ellie when she and the band were setting up, and she said everything is fine on that front. I asked her if they'd play some Kendrick Lamar, or some of Drake's sexy stuff, but she said no."
"I'm sure it will be great. They're pretty good at what they do," I said, turning on my heel to resume pacing. "Is the officiant here?"
Riley paged through his notebook, nodding. "Tiel's friend? Yeah, he's unique. He's wearing a feather boa. What are the odds he's a pimp?"
I shook out my cuffs and glanced back at him. "He's a drum major. There's a difference."
"I'm gonna have to trust you on that, boss," Riley said. He flipped through the pages and looked up, gesturing to his list as I returned from the far end of the hall. "I think we're good. We have food and drink, some flowers and trees, a drum major pimp, a plaid-shirts-and-beards band, and the people. We're good."
I patted my chest, confirming—again—that I had the rings. "Is Erin here yet?"
"Oh, yeah, Rogue's on her way. She's been texting me since she landed three hours ago. Matt and Miss Honey are delivering that package, which reminds me," he said, and then scribbled a note. "She needs supervision. Maybe the bar boys can handle her. All six of them."
Bringing my fingers to my forehead, I groaned. Erin usually went by the nickname Little Mermaid—which she loathed—though Riley stayed strong with Rogue. In this situation, he was probably right. I'd begged her to show up, but I also knew the odds of her getting wild were high.
"Jesus, fuck. Please don't let her start anything. No fiascos. No throw-downs. Nothing," I said. "Didn't she hang out with Nick last summer? At Matt's wedding? He's good when we give him tasks. Let's put him in charge of Erin."
"Nick's my boy, but…" Riley scowled around the pen cap. "I wouldn't trust him with a ham sandwich."
"I don't know what the hell that means, Riley."
"Nothing. Stop worrying. Worst case scenario, I'll lock her in Tiel's studio for the night. She's like ninety pounds. I can take her," he said. He pulled a white square of fabric from his back pocket and handed it to me. "I borrowed it from Matt. It's the one he had when he got married. I know this whole thing is unique, but we should havesometradition."
I turned the delicate handkerchief over, my thumb brushing the wrinkled edges and embroidery.
"It's Mom's," Riley added. "I thought you might want it. It's okay if you don't."
"Yes— Right— Yeah— I know," I said. "Thank you. I…Of course I want it." Emotion balled in my throat, and I swallowed against it. "Thank you for doing that."
"No sweat." He reached for my bowtie, no doubt skewing the perfect symmetry I'd achieved, but I didn't mind. "Got the rings?" he asked.
"In my pocket," I said.
Riley nodded, and tugged my lapels. "Good. I'll wrangle the natives. You get the bride. We'll have a wedding."
