I flick my gaze between the two mothers who are both silently pleading with me to pick their choice. If I had to guess, I’d say my mother wants the silk, but Maggie Carroll is giving off a bit of a fancy vibe right now. She’s head to toe in designer clothing, which is screaming silk at the moment. Shit. I really don’t care one way or the other, but who the hell do I side with on this one? I grimace and nervously tap on the glass display case. “Um, does it matter? They’re napkins. People are going to be wiping their mouths with them.”
“It matters a great deal,” Maggie says, picking up two napkin swatches and carrying them over to me. “The silk is much more sophisticated. And given the location you’ve chosen for the reception, I think that’s the one you should go for.”
“But the cotton blend comes in this antique-white color that would go beautifully with the pale-gray bridesmaids dresses,” my mother adds, joining Maggie’s side.
Jesus. Since when does it matter if the napkins match the bridesmaid dresses?
I look back and forth between the two of them before turning toward Joey. “Thoughts?”
“Nope. I’m afraid you’re on your own there, cupcake.” He backs away and sips his coffee, leaving me alone in my misery.
I reach out and feel both choices between my fingers. “Um, well, I guess the cotton is most likely cheaper? So, why don’t we go with that?”
Maggie gently lays her hand on top of mine. “Oh, sweetie, money is not an issue. If you want the silk napkins…”
“She just said she wants the cotton blend,” my mother states with a firm tone. “Which I agree with, sweetheart. Beautiful choice.”
“But, Helen, the silk would be so much more… elegant.”
I drop my forehead to my hands and groan my irritation while the two of them continue to hash it out. Who cares about napkins! Am I completely crazy for not giving a shit about this tiny, insignificant detail? The guests could wipe their mouths on their coat sleeves for all I care.
This is how it’s been for the past six months. Ever since Reese and I got engaged, our mothers have been in a battle of who can plan the better wedding, and poor Juls and I have been stuck in the middle, trying to rein in the madness. They’ve been so crazy about this whole thing, I’ve found myself contemplating the benefits of a Vegas wedding. Unfortunately, my soon-to-be husband is dead-set on marrying me in front of all our families and is having no part of that discussion. Every time I suggest he steal me away for a quickie wedding, he just shuts me up with his mouth, or his cock. And because I’m weak with lust around that man, and given the fact my head is sure to explode soon from all this momma drama, I bring it up. Often.
The front door chimes and I look up, smiling as my best friend strolls into the bakery. She takes one look at the mothers waving napkin swatches into the air and immediately goes into wedding-planner mode.
“Ohhhh, no. There will not be any changes made. Give me those.” She snatches the napkin samples from the two mothers who both stare at her with shocked expressions. This is the Juls I know and love, the one who knows how to run shit. “This wedding is happening in ten days, and all decisions are final. And really, the napkin issue? Again?” She motions toward me with a crumpled-up napkin in her hand. “The bride-to-be doesn’t care about the napkins. In fact, you two are the only people I know who have ever cared about the napkins. And I’ve planned over one hundred weddings. For the love of God, let it go.”
My mother crosses her arms over her chest and sneers at Juls. “You know what, Julianna? One of these days, when you’re planning your daughter’s wedding, you’ll care about the napkins.”
“I seriously doubt that. Besides, I’m planning on having all boys.”
Maggie and my mother grab their purses off the consultation table while Juls smiles in her minor victory over the two of them. The moms both walk around the counter and smother me with affection.
“We’re going to go swing by the venue to take another look around,” Maggie says as she releases me from a hug. “Now, don’t forget to let me know about the bachelorette party. I’m all in.”
“Ha!” Joey yells from the kitchen.
I smile and clear my throat loudly, hoping to cover up the end of my dear assistant’s crack-up. “Tell Mr. Carroll I said hello.”