Page 10 of Love at Teamsgiving
“If it’s good enough for my three favorite people in this world—Shane, Margo, and you—it’s good enough for me.”
A half-smile finds its way to my lips. Selfishly, I’m glad to hear this, but I’m still surprised nonetheless. My mother has been in a solid state of mourning for over ten months and I’m starting to worry about her. Okay, I’m past worried and have moved into acceptance. Since the wedding will be in Nebraska, I won’t have to leave her alone to come back here for Erica’s big day, because we’ll already have moved.
She says, “Who knows, maybe if I like it, we’ll relocate too.”
“Technically, I’m moving to Cobbiton, a suburb of Omaha,” I say, thinking about the quirky small town with an affinity forcorn and hockey. We have a rental house waiting for us that’s modern and updated, and a salon space that is not, which makes it perfect for my vision. It’ll be a new life free from family feuds, memories of loss, and Miguel the Mistake.
“Shane is a mega Knights fan. Maybe we can go to a game with Margo.”
“I bleed blue, forever loyal to the Empire State Kings.”
She shrugs. “Allegiances can change.”
I shake my head, adamant because my experience has proved that not even love can cut through those kinds of ties.
“Fine, you can root for them and we’ll throw corncobs at you. That’s what Shane said they do.” She laughs.
A full smile grows on my lips because I am a major hockey fan. It keeps Papa with me because it was something we enjoyed together—he played in Russia and moved here to play for the AHL. He and my mother met in an ESL class. He said he heard her speaking in Italian to her friend, aka her frenemy, and instantly fell in love. Ironic, since it was my ex’s mother.
Love, I tell ya. It’s the real enemy.
Erica takes one last, long sip of her iced coffee. “So, um, you have to promise not to be mad and still be my best friend no matter what.”
“What?” I tuck my chin, then go still, concerned about what she’s going to say next.
“Because I’m stuck here for the rest of the year, finishing my nursing program and you’ll already be in Nebraska, I’m wondering if you’ll be my feet on the ground and take on some of the planning tasks. Confirm that the venue doesn’t smell like gym socks, meet with the caterer, and taste the cake—I totally trust you. We both agree that black velvet is neither black nor velvet. We enjoyed the flower show more than the hair styling convention at the Javits Center last year and?—”
I was expecting so much worse and wave my hand dismissively. “Erica, of course. I’m your maid of honor. That sounds fun.”
Maybe my mom can tag along and it’ll help get her out to see the new area and meet people. I’ll have my hands full with her and opening my new salon, but as they say, If you can make it in Manhattan, you can make it anywhere. As a top stylist in the city with numerous awards and being booked out for years, I’d say,Achievement unlocked.
Why would I leave then? I’ve grappled with second thoughts. Late at night, they’ve won, but by morning, I’ve come up fighting and get them in a clinch, reminding myself that this is the plan and I’m sticking to it.
Erica says, “Please don’t do anything fussy or fancy for the bachelorette. In fact, I was thinking we could have a virtual watch party. Like we’ll send everyone gift bags with goodies—snacks, cozy socks, and face masks—and then we’ll watch Bridesmaids, The Wedding Planner, or The Wedding Singer together, but in our own homes. We can live chat and all that.”
I dust off my hands. “Perfect. You’re already making this easy for me. But no worries. Whatever you need, I’ve got it.”
Erica bites her lip. “But there’s just one more thing.”
“You name it. Consider it done.”
“I‘m so excited that I couldn’t sleep last night.We’ll also need help with flowers, music, and favors ... and updos, obviously. But we’ll pay you for that.”
I shake my head. “That’s my specialty.”
Having initially participated in the planning of my wedding before Momzilla and Queen Kong barged in, it’s not entirely new territory. Although it’ll be a big load, considering I’m opening a salon, it could be free advertising. Plus, Erica is a good friend and I’m not the kind of person who says no, well, except that onetime when Miguel and I called off our wedding—saying no to the future we’d hoped for.
I tell her, “Maybe my mother can help. It’ll get her out of the house.”
“Actually, I already have an assistant for you.”
“Super. The more hands the better.” I’m guessing Shane has a sister or cousin.
But Erica shrinks slightly. “Actually, it’s Shane’s best man.”
I lift my latte to my lips. She wears an expression of apology and leans close like she’s preparing to tackle me if I put up a fight.
“Seriously. This is great. I’m so happy for you guys,” I say, poised to enjoy the last of my latte and not have it spill.
