Page 35 of You, Me, and Forever

“I’m going to hold her to it, then.” He winked and stepped out of the office.

And we all three stood there in silence for a few seconds.

“Holy fucking hotness. That man makes Clifford Wellhung seem like he has no swagger.”

Blakely reached for a few Skittles from the candy jar that always sat on her desk and popped them in her mouth. “He sure does. And what did he do to you in the office? Your cheeks are pink, and you look a little sweaty.”

“Stop. It was business.”

“Business regarding your vajabbies diagnosis?” Violet asked as she walked around the desk.

“I’ve been so much better lately. I no longer suffer from the vajabbies, but thanks for the reminder.” I reached for a few Skittles.

“That’s because you’ve probably been getting a good workout from your vibrator with your new bestie hanging around you all the time.”

“Vi, let it go. He’ll be gone as quickly as he came.”

“That’s what she said,” Blakely shouted, and we all erupted in laughter. Just then the door chimed, pulling our attention to the woman standing in the doorway.

Susannah stood there with swollen eyes and tears streaming down her face, which looked unusually orange.

“Hi, Susannah. Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to hide the panic from my voice and making an effort to appear relaxed and not alarmed by her appearance.

“Look at me. It’s the night before my wedding, and I have a zit in the center of my forehead,” she said, pointing to her forehead. Violetand Blakely tucked their lips between their teeth, because clearly no one wanted to tell her that the zit was the least of her worries.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry at all. This stuff happens all the time. Come to my office—I’ve got just what you need.” This had always been my area of expertise. Violet was a little more rough around the edges when it came to handling sensitive situations. Her strengths were negotiating contracts, marketing the business, and running the books.

I was all about the details.

Susannah followed me back to my office, and I motioned for her to sit in the pink velvet chair across from me. Blakely followed us inside, handing us each a bottle of sparkling water and setting down a small plate of cookies before hurrying out.

Getting married should be an experience.

The Blushing Bride always tried to provide that.

From happy moments to meltdowns, which always arrived somewhere between thirty-six hours and three hours before the ceremony.

So, we were right on time, coming in around twenty-eight hours until we’d be gathering at the Seaside Inn.

“You have your rehearsal dinner tonight, right?”

“Yes,” she said, and the word broke on a sob. “And look at me. Jesse just sent me over the edge when I went to ask him if my zit was noticeable.”

“What did he say?” I asked as I pushed the cookie plate toward her, and she reached for an oatmeal raisin and took a bite.

“He said that the pimple wasn’t noticeable.” She sniffed and swiped at her eyes.

I moved around my desk, grabbed the box of tissue, and took the seat beside her.

“He’s right. It’s barely noticeable. I can give you some ointment, and we’ll get it dried up, and then it will be easy to cover with makeup by dinner tonight.”

“But that wasn’t all he said.”

Was it typical for a groom to say the wrong thing the day before the wedding? Yes. It happened all the time.

“What did he say?”

“He asked if I was supposed to be orange!” she shouted in outrage before turning to me and breaking out in a fit of hysterics. “Am I orange?”

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