How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

In a surprise move, Sienna threw her arms around my neck and gave me a warm hug. Though stunned, I couldn’t help but hug her back. Afterward, she gave me a cute little wave and then headed across the room to visit with some of the other bridesmaids. Go figure.

I headed to the cake table for a second slice of the dark chocolate groom’s cake. I found my father standing nearby with a large slice from the almond-flavored wedding tier. He took a big bite and sighed, then spoke with a full mouth. “Good stuff. Almost worth the fifteen-hundred-dollar price tag.”

“It is pretty good. Wonder what that breaks down to per slice?”

“I’d rather not think about it, thank you very much.” He took another huge bite.

I laughed and then continued to eat my cake. Mmm.

Just about that time, the deejay announced it was time for the bouquet toss. I hadn’t planned to join the festivities, but my father insisted. “Go ahead, Mari. I’ll slip over there and tell your sister to aim it your direction. I paid a hundred and twenty-five dollars for that throw-away bouquet. I’d like to keep it in the family.”

I put my cake plate down. “You’ll do no such thing. But, are you serious? Don’t you know what it means if I catch it?” I stared at him, not quite believing it. “You’re already wanting to do this wedding thing all over again? Don’t you think you’d better give your wallet a rest?”

“Yeah, probably. But I know you. When you do get married, it won’t be here. It’ll be a simple wedding at the church with a reception in the fellowship hall. I’ll toss a couple of briskets on the grill and we’ll invite folks to wear their cowboy boots. And you won’t be paying fifteen hundred dollars for a high-end wedding cake.”

“You’re right about that last part. I happen to know someone who’s great at baking, and she would probably be open to the idea of making my cake. But why are we talking about weddings, Dad? Derrick and I have only been dating a while.”

“I know that, but a father can hope, can’t he? You know how cool it would be if I could tell people my daughter was going to marry a pro baseball player? I’d be a celebrity at the office.”

“So this isn’t really about me?” I shook my head. “You want me to marry a pro ballplayer because it’ll make you more popular at work?”

“Hey, just saying it wouldn’t hurt. And maybe we’d get season tickets to the Astros games. I’m not asking him to fork them over right now, of course, but maybe one day. And who knows? You and Derrick might fall head over heels in a hurry and decide you can’t wait to tie the knot. Stranger things have happened.”

The deejay called for single women to line up behind the bride and, at my father’s insistence, I walked over to join the other bridesmaids. My sister counted down—“three, two, one . . .”—and then the bouquet flew up in the air, over her head, headed straight for me. I almost had it in my hands when Sienna took a flying leap and attempted to grab it away.

Really?

Oh. No. You. Don’t.



Thank goodness, I grabbed it first. The bouquet was mine, all hundred and twenty-five dollars’ worth of it.

The crowd cheered, especially my father, who must’ve taken it as a sign straight from above. He walked over to Derrick, patted him on the back, and then said something that made my fella laugh.

Derrick looked my way and shrugged. I returned the gesture and then held the bouquet close, concerned that Sienna might still try to nab it. Behind me, I heard my grandmother’s voice ring out. “I told you, precious girl.”

I turned to face her. “Told me what?”

“Sometimes, the Lord, he—”

“I know, I know.” Laughter followed on my end. “Don’t say it, Grandma Nellie.”

Derrick stepped into the spot beside me, his brow wrinkled in obvious confusion. “Don’t say what?”

“Oh, nothing.” I tried not to giggle when my grandmother jabbed me with her elbow.

Derrick extended his hand and then gave me a little nod. “Could I interest you in another dance, Ms. Hays?”

“Absolutely.” I pressed the bouquet into Grandma Nellie’s hands and then took his arm. “You certainly may, Mr. Richardson.”

I couldn’t help but notice the photographer snap our picture as we headed out to the dance floor. I didn’t mind, as long as it didn’t end up on the front page of the sports section. Or, heaven forbid, the society column. I cringed just thinking about that one.

Then again, dating a guy as famous as Derrick probably meant my whole life would change, once the tabloids caught on. Maybe I’d better prepare for life in the spotlight. And while I was at it, I’d prepare for a lot of baseball games in my future. Knowing this wonderful fella was on my team suddenly made the sport much more appealing.

And, as he took me for a spin around the dance floor, I had to admit one other thing as well. I might not be the maid of honor at this shindig, but this guy—this awesome, Godly guy—was certainly the best man for me.



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