Page 16 of The Wedding Crush

“Are you sure?”

She smacks her lips loudly in my ear. “Lord, if you don’t go get my grandbaby so I’m not sitting up here worried on top of managing my insides…” Mommy warns.

“Okay,” I laugh through my disappointment, switching gears to crisis-management mode.

On top of worrying about her, there’s no way I’ll be able to make it to Turn-Up Tuesday. By the time I pick up Ace, get home and call a sitter, the Sister Circle will be calling it a night.

I flip my wrist to check the time.

“I’m going to wrap up this appointment, then head straight to Mighty Les Enfants Academy.”

“Let me know the second you’ve got him.”

In record time, Nichelle and I knock out linens selections over mouthfuls of filet mignon, lobster, and lemon pepper chicken cooked to perfection. By the time she opts for elegant crimson red tablecloths and chair covers paired with warm cream napkins, table runners, and drapes, we’re out of time, and I’m back in sneakers, sprinting toward the St. Mary’s Square parking garage to beat traffic.

The good news is, I’m only four miles away.

The predictable bad news, with this standstill, my GPS is calculating thirty-three minutes.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Turning up my AC and turning down my music, I tap through my car’s digital display screen until I find Morgan’s name.

It rings twice before she picks up.

“Hey, girl, hey,” she hums into the line.

Involuntarily, a sigh barrels out of me along with a sad, “Hey.”

In seconds, the phone quiets before the volume magnifies the shuffle and swoosh of my girls, confirming they’re present and accounted for—all four of them.

I’m on a group call.

“Spill,” Monica, the no-nonsense mouthpiece of our Sister Circle commands. “Morgan said you did the sigh, so out with it.”

My voice is weighted with every ounce of disappointment I feel. “Long story short, I’m not coming tonight.”

“Girl, quit playing.” Morgan cackles over my famous sigh. “We’ve got too much to talk about tonight. Valerie’s over there falling for Fix-It Felix just because he flashed his forearms as he installed built-ins in her living room—”

“Okay, you didn’t see his forearms,” Valerie reasons.

Morgan continues listing all the gossip I’m dying to hear in person complete with animated facial expressions and wild hand gestures. “Seneca is contemplating quitting the bank.Again…”

We all laugh because it’s become an every-other-week thing with her since she got her real estate license. Not that we don’t all know it too well. That’s how we met. Every one of us crossed paths, working at Regions West Bank over the years. Eventually, one by one, we left to start our own businesses—Morgan with Forster Business Consulting; Monica with Hard Core Pilates; Valerie’s Estrada Realty; and me, with Ellis Events. All except, Seneca, who’s still working up the nerve to leap in faith.

“Girl, it’s okay, you’ll leaveifand when you’re ready,” I tell her.

“Thank you, Avery,” Seneca says.

Ahead, the traffic moves a couple inches and I make it through the light, watching as my GPS estimated arrival time drops.

“And…” Morgan’s whine commandeers my attention back to the conversation. I can practically see her pouting. “I was sorta hoping, since y’all aided and abetted Dante’s proposal, we could recap the engagement and talk vineyard weddings…”

Everyone squees and swoons.

This circle has kissed dozens of frogs. We’ve talked about love and dating ad nauseam. But she’s done. Our best friend is the first of us to get blissfully engaged to a man who fiercely loves and respects her.

“MyGod,I cannot wait to marry this man.” Morgan sighs. “Like, I want to travel and make a million plans together. I want to have kids—”

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