Slay it with Flowers Read Free Page A

bridesmaids?”
    “Onora, Ursula, Sabina, and—” She paused to count them on her fingers. “There’s one more.”
    “Me. The one without the a at the end of her name.”
    “Of course it’s you, silly.”
    “Your sorority sisters, I assume?”
    “Yes. Well, except for you.”
    I was so glad she pointed that out. “So getting back to Punch,” I prompted, liberally lacing my coffee with swirls of creamy calories, which helped subdue the urge to choke her.
    “His real name is Paulin Chumley, so they call him Punch. Everyone went by a nickname in the frat house.”
    “He’s lucky they didn’t call him Chump.”
    Jillian didn’t get my joke. She wasn’t real swift on the uptake. “Punch fits him better. He’s a brute who likes to use his fists and thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
    “The kind of guy I love to hate.”
    “Exactly. In college he drove a genuine army Hummer. Now he owns a swanky sports bar. You know the type. He always has to prove he has the Y chromosome. He even wears a solid gold punching bag earring. He says it’s his logo.”
    “Kind of carries that theme thing a bit too far, don’t you think? Just out of curiosity, what’s Claymore’s nickname?”
    “Clay.”
    “That’s original. Can’t Punch be a plain old groomsman instead of the best man?”
    Jillian heaved a big sigh. “That’s what I keep telling Claymore! Onora would be fine with that arrangement as long as she doesn’t have to stand anywhere near Punch. She detests him. I mean, she really, really detests him. And to tell you the truth, I can barely tolerate him myself—he’s such a chauvinist. But Claymore says he can’t drop Punch’s rank because that would show a lack of moral fiber, whatever that means.”
    It would have been pointless to try to explain it to her. The only fiber she understood was listed on the labels sewn into her clothing. And I was the one who had flunked out of school. I rested my chin on one hand and gave her a glazed look. “Just what exactly do you want me to do?”
    “Talk to Pryce. Claymore looks up to Pryce. If Pryce tells him to switch men, Claymore will listen. Pryce should be the best man anyway. I mean, he’s his brother, for pity sake.”
    “I have two questions. First, what would make you believe that Pryce would listen to me? He dumped me, remember? Two months before the wedding? When I failed to meet the Osborne standard of excellence? And second, if you can’t come to some resolution with Claymore now, what does that bode for your future?”
    “You obviously don’t know anything about marriage.”
    “Neither do you. Hand me the cream.”
    “I know this much,” she said, pushing the little ceramic pitcher toward me, “Claymore hates making decisions, so once we’re married I will make the decisions for both of us. See? Problem solved.”
    Poor Claymore would never know what hit him.
    “Besides, Pryce still carries a torch for you, so of course he’ll listen. He’ll hang on your every word.”
    I glanced over at the three ladies, who had stopped talking and were now quietly stirring their lattes so they could hear more about this so-called torch.
    I leaned across the table to whisper, “If Pryce is carrying a torch it’s so he can tie me to a stake and set fire to my feet. His parents will provide the kindling.” They were still trying to live down the ignominy of my having been booted out of law school while engaged to their son.
    “Silly! All you’d have to do is crook your little finger and Pryce would take you back just like that.” She snapped her fingers and all three women gave a start. “Besides, you love to help people. So help me. ” She grasped my hand. “Pu- leez, Abby. I’m desperate!”
    “Fine. I’ll talk to Pryce.” Anything to get her off that topic so the ladies next to us could resume their own conversation. There was nothing like a juicy bit of gossip to start tongues wagging around this town. “Can we discuss your flowers