“I can,” he replied, and Lauren smiled even wider. “We had a last-minute cancellation. Hence all this stuff and no use for it.”
Maya picked up a bottle of bubbles tied with a ribbon from a nearby basket. “Wow. Looks like it was going to be a big deal.”
“All weddings seem big once you work a job like this,” he replied. “No matter the size, it’s the small details that kill you.”
He sounded just like my mother. I bit back a smile, bending over my box.
“Well, I guess it’s good we decided to forgo all that for the most part, then,” Maya replied.
“Maya’s getting married tomorrow,” Lauren explained to me.
“You are? Congratulations,” I said. “Where’s the ceremony?”
She and Lauren looked at each other, then laughed. “Good question. Right now, it looks like it might be at that Jump Java a few doors down, in that little patio part out back. Unless we can find someplace better.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The patio? Aren’t there just smoking tables out there?”
“We’re hoping to relocate the ashtrays,” Lauren said easily, as Maya moved her hand over the votives left on the table. “Maya and Roger want it low key, and Leo’s boss okayed it, as long as we don’t linger during the evening rush. It’s all about the party after, anyway.”
“And where’s that?” I asked.
“Probably we’ll all just go up to the Incubator for drinks,” Maya said. “That’s our favorite bar. We actually met there.”
I looked at Ambrose, who had gone back to piling blue-and-yellow-edged napkins into the box. “Wow. After all we see around here, it sounds so easy.”
This word just came to me, and I was grateful for it. Better than the next one, which was sad. But maybe the whole Margo thing was getting to me. Maya said, “Well, Roger just hated the idea of a big, expensive thing, you know? And we’re doing a party in a couple of months in Michigan for his whole family, so none of them are coming. It’s just us and my mom, the friend who got ordained on the Internet to marry us, and a few others.”
“It’s going to be perfect,” Lauren said.
“Oh, totally,” Maya added. To me she said, “What are these?”
I glanced over to see her holding a box of small cards, tied with a bow. “Oh, those are for the wish wall. Or, were.”
“Wish wall?” she said. “What’s that?”
I looked at Ambrose, wanting to offer him the chance to explain. But he looked clueless. So much for already being an expert. “At the ceremony, we were going to set up this bulletin board on an easel,” I told her, pointing to where it was leaning against a nearby chair. “Then during the reception, everyone writes out a wish for the bride and groom on one of these cards and tacks it up. At the end of the night, we take them down and arrange them back in the box. The idea is that every night from the first one you are married, you open one, together.”
“Oh.” She looked at the box. “That’s kind of cute.”
“It’s big right now,” I told her.
“Louna, however, doesn’t believe in wishes,” Ambrose added.
“I don’t believe in making one every time you blow out a candle,” I corrected him. “But this is kind of nice, for the couple. People seem to like it.”
Maya put the box down, then picked up the cake topper again. “I can see the appeal. I mean, Roger didn’t want to do any of this, but. . . .”
I looked at Ambrose, who raised his eyebrows. Lauren said, “But you didn’t either, right? I mean, you’re good with the simple plan?”
“Oh, sure,” Maya replied quickly. “I mean, it’s just about us being together with the people we love. It doesn’t matter where we are. And that patio seems nice. You said we could put some flowers out, and then bring them up to the Incubator and put them on the picnic tables outside there. That sounds good.”
“It’ll be great,” Lauren said.
“Perfect,” Ambrose added. Maya just stood there, holding the cake topper. “Um . . . are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just fine.” Her voice cracked, clearly, on this last word. She looked at me. “Do you have a restroom I can use?”
“Down the hall to the right,” I told her, pointing. She nodded, releasing the topper, and then went that way. A moment later, we heard the door shut, then lock, behind her.
Lauren looked at Ambrose. “Oh, my God. I had no idea she wanted any of this . . . I would have helped her.”
“She didn’t tell you she did.” He put an arm around her, and as I watched how effortlessly, easily, she leaned into him, I thought of myself doing the same thing. Then, quickly, of something, anything else. Ambrose said to her, “Weddings are emotional, even the small ones. I’m sure that’s all this is about.”
“I mean, I asked her if she was sure about the patio, if she didn’t want to do it somewhere nicer, but they’re both students and don’t have much to spare. Leo offering Jump Java seemed like the perfect solution. And the Incubator . . . well. . . .”
“It’s a very thematic name,” Ambrose assured her. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Maya . . .”
“With a baby in an incubator?” She looked stricken. “Now I want to cry.”
“What’s wrong with incubators? They save lives!”
“Ambrose,” I said quietly.
“I should go check on her,” Lauren said. “She seemed really upset.”
“Here, take a water.” I reached over to grab one off a nearby table. “It always helps.”
She did, then started down the hallway, her flip-flops thwacking against the carpet. When she was gone, he looked at me.
“Okay,” he said. “You have to do something.”
“Me?” I asked.
“A bride is in distress! That’s your specialty.”
“A bride,” I corrected him. “Not our bride. She said herself all this”—I gestured at the stuff still piled around us—“wasn’t what she wanted.”
“Come on. I’ve only worked here a few weeks and even I can recognize a CG when I see one.”
I blinked, surprised he’d learned this abbreviation. “A Controlling Groom is only our problem if it’s our event. And this isn’t.”
He looked at the tables again, then at me. “Okay. But what if it was?”
“But it’s not.”
“But it could be,” he said. “If we decided to help, maybe find a better place, donate some of this stuff. It could totally be.”
“You want to get my mother involved in this?” I asked. “Are you insane?”
“No, no. I’m not talking about her. I mean us.” He moved his hand, fingers wiggling, back and forth between us. It reminded me, instantly, of that first night we’d met at his mother’s wedding, when he wanted me to heal. It seemed like ages ago now. “You and me. We could do this.”
“But I don’t want to,” I said.
“Did you not just see that?” he demanded, pointing at the bathroom door. Lauren must have joined her cousin inside, as I couldn’t see anyone. “This is the only wedding that girl will ever have. Do you want to be responsible for it taking place among ashtrays and the sound of coffee grinding?”