“It was,” he replied with a grin. “It will be worth every penny. You’re going to love it.”
Elly tucked the box under her arm and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you. You’ve been really thoughtful tonight. Sorry I’m a party pooper.”
Isaac flung his hair out of his eyes. “Eh, it’s understandable. Call me if you change your mind and want a little snuggling. Or anything else.”
Elly nodded. She walked to the door, Isaac trailing behind her, clutching her hand. Turning slowly, she let her eyes meet his. “You’ll be there, right? On the wedding day, promise?” Isaac entwined his hands into her thick hair.
“Absolutely. I’m yours, whenever you need me.”
Elly smiled at him, gave him a soft kiss, and headed down the stairs.
Back in her apartment, she pulled on loose pajama pants and an old softball t-shirt. Elly climbed into her bed, taking Cadbury and Isaac’s gift with her. Switching on her tiny bedside lamp, she let out a breath of anxiety, settling into her soft comforter, rejoicing in being in bed at last. She untied the ribbon slowly.
Please, let this be what I think it is. Please let it be the most delicious French chocolate I’ve ever tasted. The ribbon fell away and Elly excitedly pulled at the tissue paper. She saw a flash of black. Chocolate box? She grinned and reached for it. Surprisingly, it gave way under her hand, sliding silkily between her fingers.
It was a nightgown.
No, that wasn’t right. There wasn’t enough fabric to make a nightgown.
Silver satin stretched along the outside hip area, crossing the body with nothing more than a thin piece of black lace. The top section was a mix of black and purple lace that looped under the chest area and swirled around the breast cups, which were studded with tiny rhinestones. The back was held together with a tiny black string, and altogether, it was barely larger than a scarf. She looked at the tag: Size six. Elly stifled a giggle. She dangled the tiny naughty thing from her finger, an amused look on her face. Cadbury growled at it. She looked down; there was something else in the box, a tiny hand-written note. She opened it nervously.
“For after the wedding” it read, and clipped to the corner was…
Elly yelped and flung the lingerie across the room. She fell back against her pillows, exasperated, and let her amusement overtake her. It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen.
“You have got to be kidding me!” she gasped. Her laughter grew louder and more hysterical until it rang out through the apartment. It was several minutes before she finally dissolved into sleepy giggles.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
“You have got to be kidding me!” repeated Elly. “Please tell me that you are joking.” She was pacing in the studio, back and forth, stepping over mounds of flower buds and rose leaves, branches and greenery. The phone was pressed tightly against her ear, and Snarky Teenager stood by her side anxiously. “What do you mean appendicitis? I’m not sure what that means.”
She paused, feeling her blood pressure rise steadily. “Anthony. I don’t think you understand, I can’t do this wedding without three designers…I am standing knee deep in flowers and still have twenty-five centerpieces to design, not to mention ten bridesmaids bouquets for Lucia’s harpies, and a ceremony that has more flowers than the last four weddings we did combined!” She threw a white hydrangea across the room. “Anthony, if I come down to the hospital, and you are not getting cut open by a surgeon, I swear I WILL CUT YOU OPEN MYSELF FOR THIS!”
She slammed down the phone, sending leaves scattering all down the table. Snarky Teenager looked at her, terrified. “You’re scary when you’re angry! Stay away from me!”
Elly opened her mouth and shut it. Anthony wasn’t coming. He had woken up in the middle of the night, severely nauseated, with an excruciating pain in his lower belly. He had barely been able to drive himself to the hospital and was admitted immediately. Elly felt a twinge of guilt as she rested her head against the cool table. She was down one designer, but Anthony was in the hospital. How could she be furious at him when he was obviously quite ill? Easily, she mused, but it still wasn’t right. She murmured a quick prayer for some semblance of peace, and moved forward, still fuming.
Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a simple silver bucket and walked to the cooler. She stuck her hand through tons of pale yellow roses and grabbed handfuls of flowers: red ginger, Bells of Ireland, hanging heliconia and bright orange tulips. Anthony loved tropicals; they fit his bright and eccentric personality. She arranged them quickly in the heavy container, bending ti leaves in half to make an artful grid on the base and layering the ginger so it rested gently on the top. She stepped back and looked at her quick work. It was elegant, but hinted at chaos - exactly what she wanted. She rang her delivery driver, Eddie, for the pick-up.