Page 72 of The Wedding Run
Libby
Buzzed from the high-octane caffeine or perhaps the near kiss with Luke, I wander around the kitchen, stepping over Bailey and getting in Elle’s way as she applies a crumb coat of frosting on each layer.
Luke asks Charlie about her camera equipment, and she chatters away, telling him about the aperture and bokeh effect, lenses and white balance. He appears interested, even asking questions while giving Bailey a head scratch.
Which makes me wonder…Is he interested in my sister?
Only a few short days ago, I considered setting them up. But now I realize they wouldn’t make a good couple. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part. Should I warn him? Or her? Or keep my selfish thoughts to myself?
She laughs at something Luke says, touches his arm, and leans toward him.
Maybe now is a good time. “Charlie!”
Startled by my call, Charlie and Luke look at me.
“What?” Charlie barks.
“Uh…” I stammer. “It might be nice if you could help out over here.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Helping a bridezilla.”
I frown at her middle child stubbornness.
Luke interjects. “Andrea’s great. Not a bridezilla at all. You’ll like her. She couldn’t help that the photographer ghosted her and the cake decorator canceled.”
“You know how temperamental artists can be.” My comment receives an irritated look from Charlie.
Elle bends over, piecing together the cake. "I could use some help!"
“What do you need?” I hurry to her.
“Bubble straws.” She holds her hand as if she’s a surgeon performing a delicate operation.
“The what?” I glance at the crowded counters.
Charlie waves a package from the kitchen table. "These?"
“That’s it,” Elle replies.
Charlie winds up her arm to throw the package.
“Don’t!” Luke and I say at the same time.
I imagine the package flying, Elle missing the catch, and it smashing into the cake. Instead, Luke takes the straws from Charlie and passes them off to me.
As I open the package, I tease out an extra-wide straw and lay it across Elle’s palm as if I’m a trained surgical nurse. I hold my breath while she carefully skewers one cake layer onto the next. One mistake, and we might find ourselves back at square one.
Speaking in a low tone, Elle informs us, “These straws act as support poles. They keep the cake from looking like the Tower of Pisa.”
I glance at Luke. “That’s on my list.”
“Mine too.” He grins. “If I had a list.”
“What list?” Charlie eyes us both then attempts to hide a secretive smile.
Elle releases a breath and straightens. “Good work, crew.”
“If only the Italians had bubble tea straws back in the day,” Charlie says.
