Page 24 of The Wedding Run
“Not too long,” I answer. “I’m a wedding and event planner in Atlanta, so I’ll?—"
“Luke Maine!” The customer plunks down her cappuccino. “I can’t believe you did it!” She launches herself at Luke with a bone-crushing embrace. “You’re the absolute best!” She smacks a kiss against his cheek, then turns to me. “I’m Andrea. The bride.”
I’m confused.Thebride?Hisbride? I look to Luke for clarification.
“I, for one,” Andrea says, “am not planning on being single. At least not for much longer.”
Like that explains everything. I watch Luke for an interpretation. Maybe I don’t understand the vernacular here in Storybrook.
“Libby,” he says, “this is Andrea. Now, what exactly did I do?”
“You found me a wedding planner!” Andrea, the bride, grabs my hand and shakes it vigorously. “I’m so relieved. I’ve been feeling so stressed out about all the details. The endless details.”
Details are my specialty.
“Andrea,” Luke says, “you don’t understand.”
But Andrea babbles on, “It’s overwhelming, you know. So many things. And it never stops. Every day, there’s this or that or that or this to contend with. And I’m worn out. Frankly, I’m beginning to wish we'd eloped. You know, gotten one of those Elvis impersonators to marry us in Vegas.”
I’m nodding because I do understand. But truth be told, I love all the tiny, juicy particulars.
“Elope with Luke?” I venture.
Andrea laughs. “To my fiancé. Taylor. Yesterday,” she continues like one of my many endless lists, “the bakery called, and there was a mix-up. Of course. It took half a day to straighten out my order. Frankly, I don’t trust them to get it right. I might get a cake for a bar mitzvah or some risqué bachelor party. And don’t even get me started on the photographer. Who has been ghosting me. Then there’s the?—”
“Andrea,” Luke interrupts her in a calm but forthright way. “Libby is not here to oversee your wedding or anything else. She’s recovering from?—”
“Where are you having your wedding?” I cut off Luke’s explanation.
“Right here at the Brew!” She looks around, her eyes shining with adoration at the shelf of used books and the display of muffins and scones.
“This is where Andrea and Taylor met,” Roxie explains. “I introduced them. I’m telling you, I should go into business as a matchmaker.”
“You should!” Andrea agrees. “Taylor and I are both realtors, so we basically work out of our cars. One day I stopped in to check my email and have a cappuccino, and I fell in love—with Taylor, not the cappuccino, although they are very good.”
Luke nods with appreciation. “Thank you.”
“We should have an advertising campaign,” Roxie exclaims. “’Have a coffee and find a mate!’ It could catch on.”
“’Connecting lattes and espressos,’” I add.
“’Latte love!’” Andrea boasts.
“All right,” Luke silences our ad campaign. “You guys sound like Derek, taking over the country and then the world.”
“Love can change the world,” Andrea states with the self-assurance of a bride in love.
“Look, Andrea,” he says, “I brought Libby here to?—”
“When’s the wedding?” I interrupt again.
“This coming weekend!” Andrea crows.
My smile fades, and my eyes go wide. I was not expecting that. I glance at Luke, and he shrugs. He tried to prevent me from sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. But somehow, I feel as if I’m diving into a pool on a hot, summer day.
“I’m going to need another coffee.” I push my cup across the counter.
Roxie scoops it up. “What would you like?”
