Elly’s eyes jerked open. The pale light of dawn crept slowly through the tiny slotted windows situated in the lobby. Leaning forward, she fumbled for the clock. Five thirty-five a.m. She let out a groan.
“Shut up,” murmured Snarky Teenager, lying in the corner with Dennis curled up at her feet like a puppy. “We’re still sleeping.”
Elly stumbled to the bathroom and splashed water on her face before returning to the quiet room of steel and glass. The store was actually quite lovely in this gentle morning glow. Dennis let out a huge snore and Elly gave him a tender smile. She couldn’t leave without him, but she couldn’t bear to wake the slumbering pair, not quite yet. Elly booted up the store laptop and waited for her email to pop up. With all that had happened, she was surprisingly thankful for Dennis. Until Keith could give her answers, she needed to stay away from him. And if he couldn’t give her that, then there was definitely a real problem. Oh gosh, what if she was his mistress all this time? She ran her hand over her face. You’re exhausted, and that was a crazy thought right there. Everybody in this room needs to eat some fruit and take a nap.
The white neon glow of the computer screen washed over Elly’s face. She chewed on her fingernail. There were fourteen emails in her inbox, and none of them were from Keith. Damn. There was, however, an ad for weight-loss pills which she was tempted to click on, three emails from her wholesaler—ugh, later—and one from Gemma Reynolds. Lola’s wedding would be here very soon—it was weeks away. Elly had let it fall by the wayside in the fallout of the breakup and the opening of the store. Mostly, she just wanted to eat ramen noodles, wear a blanket and no pants, and watch Lifetime movies. Dennis gave a snort in the corner as she opened the email.
Elly,
We need to discuss Lola Plumb’s upcoming wedding that has indeed been chosen as the finale of the BlissBride season, as you may have suspected. We will need the copies of all your wedding orders and information by the end of the week, as well as the total required supplies and glassware counts. Please see the attached vendor filming schedule and please advise me of any concerns you might have for the wedding. In addition, I need the signed security clearances and nondisclosure agreements from your staff no later than Monday. Also, it is of the utmost importance that I look over your final flower order for Lola. It has come to my attention recently that Lola has some, how shall we say, interesting wedding flower choices. She seems keen on wildflowers. Needless to say, that is not exactly the look that I envisioned for this grand wedding. Orchids, garden roses, peonies, and exotic imports should be our focus, for both of our sakes. I would implore you to convince her to rethink her selections. This wedding must be seen as one of American royalty—a pop-culture princess marrying a hotel heir—and we simply cannot have cheap-looking flowers for our season finale. The network, and my parent company, won’t stand for it. If you cannot convince her otherwise, other decisions will be made on her behalf, and we certainly wouldn’t want to ruin the fine reputation of Posies. I have arranged a dinner for the two of you early next week to discuss the final details of everything. While Lola can be unstable, we professionals really know what is best for her and will do our best to prove it. Perhaps a muted peach palette?
Cheers,
Gemma Reynolds
Associate Producer
Elly pushed her fingers into her temples. Dennis gave a grunt and sat up, his sweaty blond hair plastered against his wide forehead. “Don’t mind the elves, they only have long swords.” He took a deep breath. “Wait, where am I?” Then he rolled over onto his stomach. “Ugh, I have a headache.”
“Welcome to your first hangover,” mumbled Elly, still staring at the computer. “How much did you drink?”
“Only half a glass. It didn’t taste very good.”
“Well, it always feels like that. Even from a few sips.” That was a lie, but the good kind, Elly told herself. “We’re going home. Wake her up.”
“I’m up,” mumbled Snarky Teenager, pushing herself off the ground. She looked radiant, even with her hair a rat’s nest and her eye makeup streaked down her cheek. Dennis gave her a wide smile, followed by a dry heave. “Did we make out?” she asked with dread.
Dennis gave a disappointed shake of his head. “No. We didn’t.”
“Oh, good.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Hmm, I actually feel okay. Yeah, I’m fine.” She tossed her hair and stretched her arms above her head. “Maybe I’ll go for a run this morning.”
“I’m going to throw up,” groaned Dennis, pushing his hands against the cold wood floor and swaying to his feet.
“You can throw up in the car,” said Elly as she snapped the laptop shut. All three of them stumbled to the door.