Page 5 of Third Time Lucky

LUCY

‘Where are my flowers?’ Madi snaps, inspecting the bouquet. ‘I slept with one of them. Wait a sec. Is it just me or do these look oddly similar to the flowers in the lobby?’

We’re in an ornate room in Ceasar’s Palace, packed to the brim with bags, clothing, shoes, makeup, hair supplies, food and dozens of people helping get me and my bridal party ready for this blessed event.

I haven’t had a moment of silence since I woke up, and it’s all to celebrate me. Well, my wedding. Our wedding.

I glance at the bouquet. I suppose they do seem last-minute at best, but the gesture was still sweet.

Odd, and unexpected, but sweet. For some reason, my breathing was difficult as we stood in silence, waiting for Asher to speak, but he’s probably just stunned to see me, just like I am him.

It’s been so long and I’m suddenly getting married.

Last he saw me, I was in love with his best friend, the boy who taught me what love was – Kris.

Jeesh. There he is again. In my head, with my heart lassoed to him. Why is he suddenly haunting me like this? I was over him.

Relax, Lucy.

Today is a good day. Some might even say the best day of their life. I wonder if they make that call before or after they say ‘I do,’ I guess I’m about to find out.

‘They are familiar, dear,’ my grandmother, Mitzi, says, now standing beside Madi as they inspect the bouquet. ‘And wet.’

‘You guys, it’s the thought that counts, right? It’s not like he knew I’d be here getting married this weekend so he pre-bought flowers. He’s just trying to be a nice guy. That’s all.’

I’m a 1,000 per cent certain I’m right about this.

Yet I can’t help but wonder how this happened?

How strange is it that we’d run into one another the day before my wedding?

In a city neither of us lives in? After twelve years.

And why do I feel like he had more to say earlier than the words that left his lips?

It’s not just randomly running into him that’s weird either.

Just last week during a pre-wedding meltdown that Madi titled ‘cold feet week,’ I thought of Ash. Not directly or intentionally, but while I packed up my apartment in preparation for moving in with Brandon, I came across my childhood bedroom boxes. When I got to the one labeled: Kris thankful he’s always on my side.

With a hand on my chest, my eyes closed for focus, I practice my breathing for a few.

Brandon loves me unconditionally. He tells me all the time. I’ve got nothing to worry about. I repeat the words my therapist concocted to help with my wedding anxieties until I hear a knock on the suite door.

‘Floral!’ someone calls.

‘Good! The actual flowers are here! I’ve been dying to see them,’ Mitzi says, flittering her eighty-year-old self to the door and allowing the florists in to deliver bouquets.

I don’t even know what they look like because she picked them. She planned almost every detail of this wedding while I worried about everything else. Luckily, I trust her judgment.

According to her stories, Mitzi was a ritzy socialite way back in the sixties, before they were cool.

She’s mingled with the stars for most of her young life, throwing lavish parties that national news has reported on.

She’s slowed down over the years, but I trust that this wedding will be the talk of the year because of her.

She’s also the one who got the magazine interested.

Without Mitzi, my life would be boring because I didn’t inherit her outgoing personality.

In truth, I’d have been OK with the discounted dress and just the two of us on a beach in Hawaii.

But I’ve agreed to this and it’s too late to turn back now.