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Obviously, I had no answer to that question. Even Basia looked at me as if I’d committed a major faux pas. Mom gave me her steely disapproving look when I remained silent—a look she gave me when she thought I was being unreasonably obstinate, like when I’d refused to wear a pink frothy tutu to the ballet recital in which I’d never wanted to perform. In the end, I played a tree in the recital—seemingly a safe bet for someone as awkward as me—except I fell off the stage, taking two dandelion dancers with me. I’m pretty sure it was the highlight of the show, even though no one in the audience said so outright.

“You do know that Amanda McCormick was the wedding planner for his daughter, right?” Mom continued, her voice rising. “It was broadcast around the world, and was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever seen, and that includes the British royal weddings.Your Wedding Dayis devoting an entire issue next month to her wedding. Lexi, do you realize what this means?”

“That her vendors will get a lot of free advertising?” I offered.

Mom gave me an exasperated stare. “No. It means you have an in with Amanda McCormick. And not justanyin. The president-of-the-United-States in. Do you have any idea how exciting this is?”

Of course, I had no idea. Did she have to ask? “Mom, I just don’t think Slash and I are going to need anything so elaborate it would require a planner.”

“Every wedding needs a planner.” Mom threw her arms around me, suddenly happy. I was baffled by the quick change in emotion, so I cautiously watched her for clues, wondering what had changed. “Oh, Lexi, don’t look so worried. This is a stroke of luck! I can’t wait to tell your dad. Have you discussed using Amanda’s services with Slash?”

“I have not.”

“Well, put that at the top of your planning agenda.” She turned back to the computer with a new kind of energy and enthusiasm—one that frankly scared me. “Okay, now that it’s settled, let’s not lose our focus here. Today it’s all about the dress. Lexi, what do you think of this one? I like the off-the-shoulder look.”

I wanted more wine, but was afraid I’d agree to something while under the influence. The one she showed me was too lacy, had too many pearls, and I’d never wear it. Ugh.

“Um...well...” Before I could find an appropriate answer, my cell rang. I was grateful for the interruption, so I snatched the phone out of my pocket and checked the number.

Slash, thank God.The guy had impeccable timing.

“It’s Slash. Sorry, I’ve got to take this.” I swiped the phone open as I walked into the living room, pressing it to my ear. “What’s up?”

“Not much. How is it going?”

Like he needed to ask. “I’m sure you can imagine.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Now imagine it ten times worse.”

“That’s...unfortunate.” He paused. “How many glasses of wine have you had?”

“How can you tell that I’ve had any?”

“A bottle was already open before I left, your mom and Basia are there solely to discuss the wedding, you’re barely pronouncing your words, and I presume you’re still looking at dresses. Need I say more?”

Dang, he totally had me pegged. “Fine. For your information, I’ve only had three glasses, but I’m contemplating four more before I’m done. When are you coming home, and please tell me soon. You have to save me.”

“Soon.” I heard a beep in the background and figured he was driving. “I need gas, so I’ll pop into the Quick Mart on the way. I noticed we’re out of skim milk, so I’ll pick up a carton while I’m there. Do we need anything else?”

“Yes. I need a box of tampons. Regular. Can you pick those up at the Quick Mart?”

There was dead silence.

I waited for him to respond and then checked to see if the call had dropped. “Slash, are you there?”

“I’m here. I, ah, don’t know what you mean.”

“I need a box of regular-size tampons. How much clearer do I need to be? Don’t worry, it will say regular right on the box. Thanks and see you soon. Just hurry, okay?”

I hung up and slipped the phone into my back pocket as I returned to the kitchen. “That was Slash. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to wrap this up. He’s on the way home. Apparently there’s a matter of national security that we have to discuss as soon as he gets here.”

“I thought Slash was on vacation,” Basia said.

“And it’s eight o’clock at night,” my mom added, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re both right,” I answered, trying to keep the guilty look off my face. “But national security doesn’t take a vacation or a weekend off.”

Basia rolled her eyes at me from behind my mother’s back, but since she was my best friend, she didn’t call me on it. To my relief, she stood and started putting food away. Seeing no other option, Mom rinsed our wineglasses and retrieved her coat from the closet.

“You’ll look at the dresses I bookmarked, right?” Mom asked as she fastened a button.