Page 28 of All This Time

I offer her an understanding smile. “I think a joint party is a great idea. We could have it here at the winery too.”

“Yeah! We thought it’d be more fun if we were all together. Go crazy—we’re not opposed to having a little fun,” Elliot adds.

Fletcher rubs his palms together. “I already have a few ideas.”

“Which we can discuss later,” I say through a placating smile without even looking in his direction.

Elliot grabs a list and slides it toward us before lifting a cardboard box from under the table. The box is full of organza bags, place cards, decorations, and several bags of what look like M&M’s. I move the paper closer to me, but Fletcher reaches out and pulls it back toward him. I fight the urge to rip it from his hands.

“This is what we need you two to accomplish.”

“Filling wedding favors, cake tasting, picking out a bridesmaid dress for me and a tux for Fletcher.” I lift my eyes to Tori and then cast them over to Elliot. “I get the favors, but you honestly don’t want to pick out your own cake, or what Fletcher and I wear?”

Tori shakes her head as she laughs. “I don’t care about this stuff. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having a traditional wedding at all.”

Elliot chuckles. “And you know I’ll eat anything, Laney. Just make sure we have a cake.” He picks up Tori’s hand and kisses the top of it. “Honestly, the details only matter to my parents. The only thing I care about is this woman walking down the aisle toward me on that day.”

Tori swallows and leans forward, pressing her lips to Elliot’s and then nuzzling their noses together. “You’re too good to me.”

“All right, you two. We get it. You’re in love,” Fletcher chimes in. “So what color tux are we talking?”

“Black,” Tori answers. “Just simple and classic.” Then she turns to me. “And for you, Laney, blush pink for the dress.”

The moment she says it, I can feel my cheeks turn the same color. “Sounds good.”

“What are your thoughts on Funfetti cake, though?” Fletcher asks.

I twist in my chair to face him for the first time since I sat down. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs before looking back at Elliot. “What? It is the best flavor of cake.”

“We’re not ordering the cake from Betty Crocker,” I admonish. “And I highly doubt Bites & Bliss Bakery will do a Funfetti cake.”

Elliot laughs. “Again, I don’t fucking care what flavor the cake is. Funfetti is delicious, but maybe something a tad more sophisticated. The wedding is at the winery, after all.”

I jut my thumb at Fletcher. “Apparently some of us still haven’t grown up.”

“Andapparentlysome of us are snobs about cake.”

I glare at him as he raises an eyebrow. Sighing, I turn back to the list while mentally finishing my argument with this insufferable man.

Funfetti cake.I mentally roll my eyes, too.

My parents started hosting weddings at the winery when I was very young, so for years I watched from afar as many a bride walked down the aisle to her groom waiting anxiously. My favorite part was watching his reaction when he saw her for the first time, which made me imagine what my future husband would look like when he saw me.

Let’s just say that Ellis isn’t the only little girl who was obsessed with dressing like a princess. I’ve envisioned my own wedding since I was just a few years older than her, down to every last detail, including the cake.

And, for a while, the groom waiting at the other end of the aisle was the man currently sitting to my right.

Oh, to be young and naïve again.

“So that’s it?” I say, looking over the list again.

“Oh! The place cards,” Tori says, standing from the table to dig in the box, pulling out a stack of place cards before sliding them across the table toward me. “Laney, you have beautiful handwriting, and you know everyone on the guest list.” She gestures to the papers in front of me, causing me to flip to the next paper where I see the list of people who will be attending. “There should be enough, but try not to make too many mistakes. I don’t have time to order more.”

That makes me pause for a moment, but then Fletcher leans over my shoulder to see the list, and the second his cologne hits my nose, I’m transported back to my old bedroom, breathing in that same scent off my pillow long after he was gone.

“You invited my dad?” he asks, his voice strained. The concern in his voice makes my shoulders stiffen.