Page 17 of June Bride
Brandy softly lowered her pen to her desk. Her prim and proper posturing was more snotty, big city doctor condescending to her small town patient than one fiancée talking to the other. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said, that terse tone striking Sunny right in the heart. “I mean… you have never come across as the kind of woman who wants to wear a dress foranyoccasion, let alone a wedding.”
“Would’ve been one thing if you let me make that decision, you know. Instead, you basically told me what I would be wearing. How could you assume something like that?”
Brandy gasped.
“I’m sorry.” Why was Sunny apologizing? She wasn’t the one fighting for her right to pick her own outfit at her own wedding! “It’s not fair. You get to have the image you want for your wedding. So, what, because I get a wedding outside of a church, I have to wear whatever you want me to in return?”
“It’s not like that. I genuinely thought you would want to wear a…”
“Why? I’m notthatbutch.” If the contest were between her and half the women in Paradise Valley, she definitely lost the competition. Sunny was positivelyfemmecompared to the likes of the sheriff and certain EMTs screeching down Main Street on a bad day. Not that Sunny put much stock in those representations. She simply wore what she liked, styled her hair a certain way, and didn’t give a shit if a well-meaning guest mistook her for a young man. Words like “butch” and “femme” had their place in Paradise Valley, but to Sunny Croker, she was content to do her thing and hope nobody gave her crap for it.
She never thought that a woman she might soon marry would be at the top of the crap-slinging list. But Brandy loved her traditional roles. She loved tradition, period. Even the wedding had to be a certain way to cater to that old school vision Brandy had been brought up with and never thought to change. Aspects of it were attractive, honestly. While Brandelyn was egalitarian in terms of who paid for what – and for God’s sake,shewas the one who popped the question – she very much believed in one of them being the firm, steady provider and the other a more homemaking type. The irony came when self-proclaimed femme Brandy was the provider and sometimes-called-soft-butch Sunny the one into gardening, cooking, and housekeeping. Was it different because Sunny still ran her own business and always had her hands dirty? Or was it different because she fulfilled Brandy’s fantasy of the rural rube who might not have the best education, but had the respect of everyone in town because they were a good person?
Honestly, Brandelyn couldn’t follow her own rules, so she could piss off.
“Apparently, I’ve made an error of judgment.” Brandy wouldn’t look Sunny in the eye. Did that mean she truly conceded her attitude? Or that she didn’t find Sunnyworthlooking in the eye? “I had been making plans based on what I assumedyouwould want. Besides, you put most of the wedding planning in my hands. Or do you remember absolving yourself of those responsibilities?”
“Only because it was like having too many cooks in the kitchen!” Sunny rethought that. “More like too many cooks inyourkitchen. I always hate trying to bring a little bit of myself into this wedding. I might step on your toes, or ruin your childhood vision, or whatever is the issue with me wanting to get married at the house or wear a dress. I bet if I asked if we had fewer orchids at the wedding, you’d die.”
“Why do you have to come for the orchids like that?”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Look, Bran, I don’t care if the wedding colors are pink or purple or blue or whatever. I don’t care if you want a whole bouquet of sunflowers. We could have vegan lasagna served with a side of rainbow sprinkle cake. You want to throw real rice instead of birdseed? Be my guest. Let’s watch those birdie bellies explode.”
“What are you goingonabout?”
But Sunny wouldn’t let up. Not when she looked her fiancée right in the eye and said, “How do I know that the only reason you’re marrying meisn’tbecause I check your boxes and nothing more? What if I grew out my hair and started wearing skirts for here on out? Would you still love me?”
Brandy’s jaw fell. “Where is all of this coming from? Have I ever treated you as someone less than human? Because that’s what you’re making me sound like right now.”
Honestly? Sunny didn’t know. She had worked herself up into such a frenzy that she second-guessed everything she thought and knew about her relationship. What if itwastrue that Brandy loved her, not for who she was inside, but how she looked on the outside? Because Sunny completed her precious aesthetic? What if she was willing to call off the wedding the moment Sunny walked down the aisle in a dress? Right now, the plan was for her to play the freakin’ groom in her little tux and without her mom or dad to give her away.I’m supposed to stand up there with Anita and look pleased as punch to have my impending wife coming at me.
Sunny stood up, making sure she still had her phone before she walked out of Brandy’s office. She’d be damned if she stayed around any longer and made a bigger fool of herself. Brandelyn had helped her plenty with that so far.
Chapter 11
BRANDELYN
“Can you believe that?” Brandy scoffed over her glass of red wine at dinner. While her stepfather grilled on the patio, Brandelyn sat with the women in her family, drinking wine, snacking on fresh grapes a patient delivered earlier that day, and going over the strange altercation Brandy and Sunny had a few hours ago. “She says all this stuff out of nowhere and runs away! She won’t respond to my texts or calls.” Brandelyn was “this” close to driving over to Waterlily House and confronting Sunny, but she knew that would be a terrible idea. When Sunny was ready to apologize, she’d contact her fiancée.
“Sounds like cold feet to me.” Cathy motioned for one of her daughters to refill her wine glass. Smoke from the charcoal heating up the grill rolled across the patio with the next breeze. Brandelyn’s stepfather waved his hand and grinned when his grandsons laughed. The boys went back to tossing a ball around Brandy’s backyard. Brandy tipped the bottle of wine into her mother’s glass and shook her head. “What?” Cathy continued. “She’s making up stuff to whine about, isn’t she? Starting a fuss for no reason other than to break off the wedding.”
Brandy almost choked on her wine. “Break off the wedding? She’s having a little snit. I highly doubt she’s going to call anything off.”
“I didn’t say she would. I said she’s getting cold feet and testing the warmer waters. Everyone does it, dear! Don’t you remember how Lizzie was at city hall when she got married?”
“Why do you have to drag me into this?” Lizzie snapped.
“Because I remember you crying in the women’s restroom on the fourth floor!Baaw, baaaaw, I don’t wanna marry the man who knocked me up although literally the only reason I’m pregnant was so he would finally marry me!”
Lizzie turned around in her seat with a scoff. “I was hormonal, all right? Matt absolutely creamed my hormones that first time I was pregnant.” Her oldest boy now tackled his brother, the two of them screaming in boyish delight. A neighbor peered over the fence before going back to minding his business. “You can’t blame me for that. Or are you trying to imply that Brandy’s lady is in a family way?”
“Elizabeth Meyer, you watch your mouth,” Cathy said with a huff. “Don’t go spreading things like that in a town like this.”
The thought of Sunny cheating on me with a guy, let alone getting pregnant with one, is so outrageous that I want to laugh.It would be Brandelyn’s first time laughing since the events in her office. “This isn’t about any of that, okay? She’s basically accusing me of being a Bridezilla and trying to tell her who to be. You just don’t do that in lesbian relationships. Not that I expect any of you to understand that.”
Her family didn’t take offense. They merely nodded, as if to say,“Naturally, we know nothing about it.”
“We women are delicate creatures, no matter who you pair yourself up with.” Cathy tipped back her wineglass while her daughters and niece waited for her to complete that thought. Knowing Catherine Meyer, it would either end with a poignant expression, or explode in offense. “Weddings are a big deal. I don’t care if you grew up in a cave off the grid and know nothing of traditional customs, you care about your wedding day.”
