Page 31 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“What’s the matter? Did the romantic out-research the divorce attorney?” I ask with a raised brow.

“These things are such a headache for me; I usually black out the Bridezilla details,” he says.

“Well, you better not black out the steps to the Cupid Shuffle or there’s going to be hell to pay,” I kid, but honestly, this Andrea chick fits the mold of demanding bride.

“Second wedding is Nick and Ophelia. Great name, by the way. It’s outdoors at Willowcrest Manor. Boho theme, which I adore,”

“I’m sure you do,” he jabs, and I dodge it. He can’t ruin this for me. “The couple has asked two very specific requests of their guests: no shoes at any time during the ceremony or the reception. And no gifts. They simply want everyone to write on a piece of provided parchment paper their advice for lasting love,” I swoon and Reid swallows hard (bile no doubt). He washed it down with wine.

“Next,” he sighs.

“Why does it feel like you’re just hearing all of these details for the first time?” I muse.

“Look, I speed-read wedding invites. Couple. Time. Date. Venue. Done.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me as your date,” I say, slowly turning my wine glass in circles on the table. “Or you might embarrass yourself.”

Reid sneers, and I smile.

“Oh, and their menu is strictly vegan so we have to RSVP with whether we want the butternut squash ravioli or the artichoke and white bean galette,” I add on just to make him cringe again.

“I forgot Nick is marrying a forest sprite,” he mutters, and I laugh. “He’s grown his hair out since meeting her, too. He has a man bun.”

“I think it sounds fun.”

“Question,” he says. “How do you remember all of this? You’re not even looking at your phone,” he says.

“I don’t know,” I smile whimsically. “It’s like, I read the invites and I can see it all come to life in elaborate detail, and my brain just takes a photograph of it and adds it to a gallery of weddings in the catacombs of my mind.”

Reid frowns. “I think you should get that checked.”

I move on. “And last but certainly not least is Drew. Short for Andrew as well.”

“That’s why we have the nicknames,” he points out.

“Drew is marrying Cassidy. It will be at the White Rose Ballroom. Colors are lavender and salmon, which should be interesting, though better than watermelon pink.”

“I don’t know about that.” Reid snorts.

“Theme is very Victorian Romantic, so think Bridgerton.”

“Think who?” he asks, and I blink.

“Bridgerton?” I echo, and his only response is a short head shake. “Oh my god. No wonder you’re so cynical. It’s only the most gorgeous TV series since Outlander.”

“That’s the one with the Scottish dude, right?” he asks.

I groan. “Okay, you need to watch at least one episode of Bridgerton if this is going to work,” I tell him. “Anyways. The colors make sense considering the theme. They already live together, so they don’t want gifts; they’re asking for honeymoon money instead.”

“Drew makes decent money,” I say.

“And a wedding at the White Rose is going to run them about fifty-k,” I point out.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes out, wiping his face with his hands before amping up again. “You know,thisis a perfect example of why–”

But I cut him off. “No, no. We aren’t talking about that right now. We’re talking about weddings. Weddings you are obligated to go to. If you’re going to follow through with our agreement, of course,” I say as I reach for my glass. But before I can take a sip, he leans in over our small round table and kisses me.

“What was that?” I ask, clearly flustered.