When Girlfriends Chase Dreams Read Free Page B

a hand with all of the crazy wedding stuff.
    I give him a kiss on his sandy-blonde head and tell him that I’m proud of him, but that I also think it’s about time to get dressed for the day. It is, after all—I glance at my watch—nearly one o’clock.

    ***

    “How was the morning with your mom?” Conner calls out from the shower after I’ve managed to drag him away from the desk.
    I tap my thighs, encouraging Schnickerdoodle to jump up onto my lap. He does so instantly, and I inch back comfortably onto the bed.
    “It was great,” I shout. “Sad, as always, to say goodbye.”
    “When’s she coming back?” Conner’s sudsing his head with shampoo, his words coming out all gurgled as the soapy water courses over his face.
    “Not sure yet,” I say. Schnickerdoodle starts to lick my hand. “Maybe in a month or two.”
    Mom is a physician’s assistant. She’s the sole breadwinner because she’s been a divorcee since I started college, so she can’t afford to skip out on work. I’m fortunate, though, that she’s been able to come up to help organize wedding details a few times since the news of the engagement.
    “That’ll be nice,” Conner says. He turns off the shower and proceeds to towel dry. “What’d you two chat about?”
    “Oh. The usual. Wedding this. Wedding that. She’s been a real help. You know, she may have found my wedding dress!”
    Conner looks at me incredulously. “You still haven’t chosen one?”
    “It’s not easy,” I whine. “You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with picking out the perfect ensemble. You’ve got it easy.”
    He makes a psh sound and rapidly rubs the towel over his head.
    “You do!” I insist. “Just a tux. Or a simple suit. And the worst of it is you have to pick a tie. But that’s also my job, really. Coordinating colors, styles, patterns…” Then a thought occurs to me that I’ve yet to even consider, because, as I’ve said before, planning a wedding is a big deal, and it seems like no amount of magazines, or checklists, or planning notebooks can help you think of everything. “What do you think of bowties?”
    Conner gives me a deadpan look, as expected. I tell him to hear me out, and he goes back to rubbing out the water from his hair.
    “Claire,” he says finally. “I don’t know about a bowtie. I know we’re going kind of 1920s old school or whatever for the wedding theme, but a bowtie for me? For Chad ?” He laughs loudly. “I don’t know, babe. Could look ridiculous.”
    I decide to brush it off for now and move on to the next matter that’s been weighing on my mind rather heavily since I hugged Mom farewell at the airport.
    “Something else we chatted about,” I start up. “The venue.”
    “What about it? We’re still doing the Mansfield Mansion or whatever it’s called?”
    “Chanfield Manor,” I correct. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”
    Conner raises his eyebrows. “Changed your mind?”
    On the contrary. Chanfield Manor is one thing I’m certain about for this wedding. That and the groom, of course, and my four bridesmaids and maid of honor, and the vintage theme. Everything else is a come-along-as-it-does kind of thing. Chanfield Manor is this brilliant mansion up in the picturesque hills of Queen Anne. It’s in the neighborhood where all the richie-rich folks live. It’s more than a hundred years old and sits perched up on a hill, overlooking the beautiful city and Elliot Bay. It’s so stunning! Almost the second our plane touched down on return from Paris I called up Chanfield Manor and booked the place. They asked for a date, and that was when the wedding date marathon began.
    Conner and I spent a few months trying to pinpoint the ideal date for our wedding, and we finally agreed on the seventh of June. Imagine a fresh, summer wedding, not too warm, nor too chilly. Outdoors. Sunshine filling up our day, an unforgettable dusk reception. Maybe even a dusk ceremony, too. All outdoors…
    Then somewhere