How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

“I like this one.” Adam mumbled around his smaller mouthful of cake. “It’s not as boring as other vanilla cakes.”


Charlotte beamed.

“Though by now, they kind of all taste the same.”

Charlotte sighed.

Brittany picked up the next piece and shoved it into her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Oh, the strawberry is actually . . . good. Really good!” Like a starving woman, she shoveled in another two samples, this time of white chocolate and lemon. “Adam. This is awful. I can’t decide.”

Over their heads, Will held up two fingers.

Brittany wrung her hands in front of her. “I mean, seriously, Adam.” The wringing turned to flapping her arms at her sides in a gesture of panic. “I have no idea what to pick.” Her voice pitched and cracked.

Adam sidestepped as her flapping connected with his shoulder and nearly knocked his sample out of his hand. “Hey, careful there, babe.”

Brittany's breathing became erratic. Charlotte darted a glance back and forth between the two of them. Should she call 911? Did this woman carry an inhaler? Why wasn’t anyone else concerned?

Her gaze collided with Will’s, who was still grinning and subtly holding up two fingers.

“The strawberry would be amazing with the champagne bar! But that chocolate was so moist!” Tears began slipping down Brittany’s cheeks.

Charlotte stared at Brittany. In all her years of catering to brides, never had her cake brought one of them to tears. Hardly a testimonial she could add to her website.

Behind her, Will turned down another finger so only his pointer remained in the air. Then he mouthed the words. Blast off.

As if on cue, Brittany erupted. “What are we going to do?” She flung herself into Adam’s arms. He stumbled back three steps before he caught his balance. Her fingers curled tight into the front of his T-shirt, gripping the material in both hands. “We can’t have three wedding cakes!”

Adam nodded, patting her back as the dripping tears turned into shaking sobs. “You’re right, babe. That’s not really possible.” He mouthed the next words to Will. Or in the budget.

Charlotte began edging her sampler tray away from the now hysterical bride. “So, um, I guess you probably don’t want to sample the mint—”

Brittany’s wails heightened in both volume and intensity.

Nope. No mint.

“Honey?” Adam gently pushed Brittany away from his chest. Charlotte plucked a napkin from the dispenser and handed it to him over the counter. He began mopping her face, mascara smearing across the white paper. “I think I have a solution.”

“Don’t say vanilla. Don’t you dare say vanilla.” Her shoulders shook with silent cries as she snatched the napkin from him and continued rubbing at her eyes until she morphed into a raccoon.

“No, no. No vanilla.” Adam pulled her back into a hug, rolling his eyes over her head at Will. “You’re under a lot of stress. Wedding planning is rough.”

Brittany nodded into his chest, her words muffled. “People just have no idea.”

Charlotte understood the eye roll, now. How did this guy do it? Forget Bridezilla. This girl was Bridasaurus Rex. She could scare the garters off Bridezilla.

“May I make a suggestion?”

Three pairs of eyes drilled into hers. Two hopeful, one doubtful.

She cleared her throat. “We could layer flavors into one cake, if that helps make the decision less . . . daunting.” She fought to keep a serious expression. “That way you wouldn’t have to commit to just one.”

Brittany looked up at Adam in confusion, as if unsure how to respond to the crazy cake lady with the horrible ideas.

Charlotte held up both hands in surrender. “Never mind. Just a suggestion.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” Will spoke up, finally, a voice of reason from the madness.

“Are you kidding me? That just makes it even harder. Which flavors do I layer? How many layers? Which ones will complement and which ones will just end up tasting like—” Brittany’s voice cracked again.

Adam rocked her slowly side to side as he spoke. “Babe, I think you need to take a step back. Delegate a little.”

“Delegate?” She looked up and sniffed. “You mean, tell other people what to do?”

He smiled. “That’s your favorite thing, right?”

Will snorted, then covered it quickly with a cough. Charlotte shot him a look. That was it. Forget word of mouth and new business. She just wanted all of these crazy, nonsingle people to get out of her shop and leave her alone with the petit fours.

Julie wouldn’t believe what she’d missed.

“You should delegate some of the planning responsibilities.” Adam’s words rambled faster now, almost mechanically, as if he’d memorized a script. Or maybe he just had a lot of experience talking his would-be bride off the ledge. “You should focus your efforts and attention on the things that matter most. Like your dress and your vows.”

Brittany perked up considerably. “And the flowers.”

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