Then there were the vows.
That was her very favorite part of weddings and what always made her cry. Declaring to everyone that you were choosing this person to spend your entire life with. Pledging to continue doing the little things that’d make them feel cherished.
Always and forever… The prick over her heart turned to a stab, one that reopened old wounds.
“Violet? You okay?”
Violet blinked, annoyed to find wetness clinging to her lashes. “Sorry. I’m so used to working in silence that I began mentally flipping through color schemes.”
Skepticism flitted through the tight press of Maisy’s mouth, but she was nice enough not to call her a liar, liar, wedding plans on fire.
“Does this mean my idea might work?” Maisy asked, a whole heap of hope in her voice.
During art school, Violet had dabbled in several mediums. The theory was that taking on a low-pressure job would get her creative juices flowing.
As the image of the renovated bakery took shape in Violet’s mind, the tingles she’d searched in vain for earlier flickered.
“Stripes or large dots in cheery colors will go on that dividing wall.” A familiar buzz skated across her skin and kickstarted her pulse. It wasn’t as strong as when she used to peer through her camera lens, but it whispered that passion was still somewhere inside her. “We could also paint and re-cover the chairs to match.”
“I trust you,” Maisy said, and a string tugged in the center of Violet’s chest.
Maisy’s phone chimed. “Time to pick up Isla from day care. I used to be organized, but having her zapped my brain. I kept losing track of time, so I set an alarm. Occasionally I bring her back to finish up, and today is gonna be one of those days.”
“Do you mind if I stay and brainstorm?” In addition to wanting to take advantage of the creative spark, Violet didn’t want to see people in town. Namely, her father and his wife. With everything else messing with her head today, she couldn’t handle an uncomfortable interaction with the rest of the Hursts.
“Not at all.” Maisy slipped off her apron and tossed it on a nearby table. “But could you do me a favor? I poured batter for a couple batches of cupcakes but was waiting for the oven to preheat. Can you stick them in for me?”
“Just stick them in?” A simple request, but Violet’s nerves stretched thin at the idea of anything involving baking. She’d told Maisy she would gladly assist with the selling and eating of goodies but not to expect help in the kitchen.
“Yep. And set the timer for fifteen minutes.” Maisy swung open the door. “The place isn’t far, so I’ll be back soon.”
Just put in the cupcakes and set a timer. Sounds simple enough.
“Before I forget, are there almonds in any of the pastries? Not that I’m going to eat everything, but I also might eat everything, and I’d rather not go into anaphylactic shock when I do.”
Maisy laughed. “Steer clear of the poppy seed muffins and the bear claws. You can see the slivered almonds on the top of those, though. Other than that, chow down.”
Violet rounded the wall that separated the front of the bakery from the kitchen. She found two giant cupcake tins, the batter pink, cream, and brown. Suddenly she was craving Neapolitan ice cream.
Heat blasted her face as she opened the enormous oven door. Wow. I bet this fancy equipment practically bakes the cupcakes itself.
Her phone chimed and then rang as she put in the second tin. Violet fished the vibrating thing out of her pocket and, when it was the college roommate responsible for her first time as a bridesmaid, answered. “Hello?”
“Oh, hon,” Leah said. “How you holding up?”
Shit. Violet should’ve known better than to answer. All this conversation was going to do was remind her exactly what day it was. “I’m fine. I’m with my sister and—”
“Your wedding would’ve been so much classier. The bride’s gown is totally making guests uncomfortable. Girl’s one movement away from a nip slip, and I’m about to passive aggressively play ‘Rock Your Body’ so we can relive Justin Timberlake ripping off Janet Jackson’s top and calling it a wardrobe malfunction. Amanda and I sent you pics through the group chat so you can see for yourself.”
Violet shut the oven door with her hip and stared at the strange buttons and controls. And she’d thought the stove in her apartment was perplexing. She hit one, five, and searched for the timer button.
“Benjamin made his choice, and honestly I hope they’re happy together.” The words scraped on the way out, leaving her throat achy and raw. Okay, so while she was trying to be the bigger person, she wasn’t quite there yet.
“I give the marriage less than a year,” Leah said.
“Six months,” Violet heard in the background, meaning Amanda was chiming in and they were seated next to each other.
“Just promise me if the bastard comes crawling back to you, you won’t take him back.”
The beep, beep sounded as Violet pushed more buttons. The digital readout didn’t begin counting down, so she tried a few more. “I won’t, I swear. Right now, I’m trying not to think about him or the wedding at all.”
Or the fact that he popped the question at month two and got married within six months of meeting her.
“I know, I know. We just thought it’d make you feel better to know that Crystal went the tacky route. You’re so much funnier and more down to earth…”
AKA, plainer, with a witty personality that made up for the plainness.
“But now I’m also thinking…” Leah shifted from gossip mode to weepy in two seconds flat, which meant she’d been enjoying the open bar. “It’s my fault for introducing you two in the first place. I wasn’t even going to come to this sham of a wedding on principle, but Ben is Casey’s best friend”—sniff—“just know that I know the jackass never deserved you. You’re going to find someone so much better.”
Informing Leah she’d sworn off men would only make her cry more. Then she’d grab Amanda so they could FaceTime and lament how it was supposed to be Violet. Perhaps even suggest single friends, even though they’d been in the same group of friends forever and knew all the same people.
Violet assured Leah she was fine and suggested she go enjoy dancing with her husband, who was a great guy regardless of his taste in friends.
Since she wasn’t sure if she’d set the timer right, she noted the minutes on her phone, doing her best to ignore the group chat they’d titled “The Bridesmaid Crew.” Since her friends from college had busy lives and were active at different times, they’d created it to stay connected no matter what.