“I can help with that,” I told him, picking out another jar. “And I’m sure we can enlist a couple of others. There’s a certain kind of wedding guest that likes a job. You just have to ID them.”
This, of course, was different from someone trying to wrest control of the event. There were types who just thrived on managing a guestbook or collecting bouquets from bridesmaids for the cake table, and William was great at spotting them within minutes of arrival. Without him there, I’d just have to trust my own instincts.
“Oh, I don’t want you to have to stick around,” Ambrose said now, as we finally emptied the box. A dozen jars for six tables: eighteen would be better, but it would do. “I’m sure you have plans tonight.”
Instantly, I felt embarrassed. Here I was inviting myself to the very wedding I’d been adamant only the day before I wanted no part of. Stupid, I thought, and wished for a second I’d ignored his text and just stayed home, maybe tried again to deal with that dress. Then, though, I looked in the wide window in front of us and saw Maya at the kitchen island, bent over the crowns she and Lauren were weaving from flowers picked in Bee’s garden. She was smiling as she said something, then covered her mouth and laughed.
“Not until later tonight,” I told him. “I mean, I don’t want to force myself on you. But if you need my help, you have it.”
Ambrose looked up at me. “I think it’s obvious that need is not even strong enough a word. Please stay.”
Now I smiled. “Okay. Now let’s talk tablecloths.”
It was a short conversation, as this detail, like many others, had been overlooked. “Oh, shit,” Lauren said, when we went inside to report this. “With the whole blanket debate those totally slipped my mind.”
“You don’t absolutely need them,” I pointed out. “It’s just the tables are kind of banged up.”
“So we need six tablecloths,” Ambrose said, looking around the kitchen as if they might suddenly materialize. That would be luck. “And probably some plates.”
“Probably?” I asked.
“We have lots of napkins!” he told me. “It’s finger food.”
“People will get a new napkin for every item they eat?” asked Roger, who unlike the tablecloths, had suddenly appeared. “That’s so bad for the earth.”
“Roger, it’s a napkin, not fracking,” Lauren told him, sounding more peeved than I thought was possible for her.
“It’s still wasteful. What we should do is give everyone one plate and one cup when they arrive, and they keep it until the end.”
“What?” Maya said.
“Oh, shit.” Ambrose sighed. “Cups.”
“We don’t have cups?” Lauren asked.
“I am not asking people to carry around their plate for three hours!” Maya said, her voice more adamant than I’d heard it all day.
“Three hours?” Roger said. “How long are we planning to do this?”
“I can’t believe you forgot cups,” Lauren said to Ambrose.
“I’m in charge of everything,” he shot back. “You can’t keep up with paper goods?”
“I was dealing with flowers!” she said.
Uh-oh, I thought. Nothing could fray nerves like this kind of detail, and my instinct told me words might be about to be spoken that would not be able to be taken back. “You ordered a keg, yes?” I asked Ambrose. He nodded. “Then they’ll bring cups with it. As far as plates, there’s a dollar store two blocks away where they also have paper tablecloths. They’re cheap and will rip eventually, but at least they’ll look nice when people arrive.”
“Dollar store,” Ambrose repeated. “Right. Let’s go.”
“Go?” Lauren said. “You’re supposed to be helping with the bouquets. You promised, like, an hour ago.”
“Did you not hear me say I’m kind of busy dealing with all the other details?” he said. In return, she glared at him. That got ugly fast, I thought.
A knock sounded on the glass door in front of us. When I looked up, Leo was standing there, in black pants and white shirt, carrying a guitar case and an amp. “Where do I plug in?” he called out, his voice muffled.
“Plug in?” Roger said. “We’re going electric with this?”
“I thought he was just doing his DJ thing on his computer,” Lauren whispered to Maya. “I didn’t even know he played.”
“You’re his best friend,” Ambrose pointed out.
“Oh, shut up,” she said. Then, turning on her heel, she stomped off. Maya looked at me, like I was supposed to do something, before following her.
“Ambrose!” Bee called from down the hallway. “Steve and Emily just got here with the food. Did you mean to have them buy forty pizzas?”
“Forty?” Roger said. “I didn’t even know we were having pizza. Now we definitely need to do my assigned plate idea.”
“They’re going to be bite-sized!” Ambrose shouted, sounding slightly hysterical. Everyone got quiet, quickly. Until Leo, still outside, knocked again, harder this time.
“I’ll just go to the dollar store,” I said quietly to Ambrose, happy for any reason to put distance between me and Leo. “See you in a bit.”
Everyone started talking again as I slipped out, pulling my keys from my pocket. I exhaled, relieved, when the front screen door swung shut behind me.
I’d just cranked the engine and put my car into gear when I heard a knocking on the back window. As I turned to look, the passenger door rattled open and Ambrose jumped in. “Drive. Fast. Get us out of here,” he said, yanking it shut behind him.
“But—”
“Louna. I’m begging you. Just go.”
I remembered the last time he’d leapt into that seat unexpectedly and told me to floor it. Then, we’d stolen a dog. This time, who knew? Whatever happened, though, it was better than that lonely dusty closet I’d been in earlier, or maybe forever. You gotta live, I heard Ethan say, something I’d almost forgotten. So I drove.
“Man,” Ambrose said, as we stood in the paper goods aisle at $1Dollar. “This place is amazing.”
I looked at the display of napkins before me, then at him. “It’s a dollar store. Surely you’ve seen one before.”
“Nope,” he said, crouching down in front of the tablecloths and riffling through them. “My mom’s not much for discounts.”
After her wedding, and the ongoing prep for Bee’s upcoming one, I actually believed this. Just then, I heard a familiar buzz—his phone. He pulled it out, glancing at it, then put it back in his pocket.
“Hopefully not another crisis,” I said, checking out a stack of hand towels bound with a crooked ribbon.
“No. Just Lauren.” His voice was flat. Of course I noticed.
“So,” I said slowly, “everything okay with you guys? Seemed pretty tense back there.”
He sighed, sitting back on his heels. “She’s just wound tightly with all this. Wanting Maya to be happy and all that.”
“What about you guys, though?” I asked. “You’re still happy, right?”
“I guess,” he replied. Not exactly a ringing endorsement. “It’s harder, you know, going long term. Or maybe it’s just hard with her.”
“Relationships take work,” I pointed out.