- Tuesday, December 18, 2007
When she says that, I feel so stupid. Surely she’s right. I raise my shoulders and relax them to try to stop the jitters that are coursing through me. “Maybe so.”
“Definitely so.” She pushes my cup toward me. “You’re just in a no-caffeine haze.”
I offer a wobbly grin and take a sip of my coffee. Definitely the best part of waking up today. “Okay, for now the ornaments. Later, Uncle Gus is going down.” I sigh and retrieve a snowpeople bride-and-groom ornament from the counter.” What do you think?”
Ami grins, a perfect white smile. A bride smile. “I think you’re going to a lot of trouble for me. They’re beautiful.”
“You know I love doing it. Passing out ornaments to all your wedding guests is such a cool idea.” With my paintbrush, I start shading in the details, determined to ignore the uneasiness inside me.
“Way cooler since you’re hand making them. Everyone in town will show up for the ceremony just to get a Kristianna original. Especially since you’ll be in the wedding party ...”
Is that doubt I hear? Just because I can’t make it down the aisle for my own weddings doesn’t mean I’ll do something stupid at hers. Does it? “You don’t have to butter me up. I already told you I’d make as many as you need.” I pause and meet her gaze. “And you know I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, I know. So what’s up with the mistletoe back here?” Ami points toward the little green sprig above the counter.
I laugh. “It’s not Christmas without mistletoe, but since no one ever comes back here, I figure I’m pretty safe.”
She smiles. “I should have known. You and your relationship safety nets.” She ducks her head and touches the back of her hair in a way I recognize.
Something in her tone makes me set the ornament on the work counter. “Yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with being my maid of honor?” Her eyes bore through me with the penetrating power of Superman’s X-ray vision.
How many more times will we go over this? “Yep.” I retrieve the ornament and start painting again.
She snatches a stool from the counter and perches beside me. “You still having … the Dream?”
Sigh. So much for her taking the hint. Ever since I caught my first fiancé kissing his ex-girlfriend at the wedding rehearsal, I’ve had the Dream at least once a month. It didn’t go away even when I was engaged briefly to Ami’s older brother, Nathan. And it’s been more frequent since we mutually broke off our obvious—to everyone but us—rebound engagement. One day, in a weak moment, I told Ami about the Dream—how everything seems perfect until I get halfway to the front of the church; then I turn and sprint back down the aisle. I always wake up out of breath and shaking. And I just had it again a couple of nights ago. “Why yes, Dr. Phil, I am. But I’m ignoring it.”
She gives me her best Dr. Phil grin. “And how’s that working for you?”
I pretend to spill my coffee on her, but she doesn’t even move. “Fine. It’s working just fine for me.”
She holds up her hands. “Okay, subject dropped. Other than worrying about the Dream, do you really want to be in the wedding?”
“Who else is going to be your maid of honor? Garrett?” The three of us have been best friends since early childhood. But I picture six-foot-two, former-football-player Garrett holding a bouquet and smiling. “Mark’s already claimed him as the best man. Besides, he’d look pretty funny in that gorgeous green dress. It would match his eyes perfectly, wouldn’t it?”
She gives me the look—the one she uses on her third graders when she wants the truth and she wants it now.
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