Karma’s Kiss

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

I’m sad to report that David is apparently not the brother I thought he was. He’s a traitor! A snake! A veritable Judas.

“It’s a simple oath. Repeat after me. Sawyer Garnett is—”

David laughs me off, continuing to tear into a twelve pack of beer. “Would you cut it out, Madison? I’m trying to get these on ice before Lindsey chews me out.”

It’s late Sunday morning and I’m over at Lindsey and David’s house with my mom doing all the last-minute prep for Cruz’s first birthday party. We’ve been at it since eight AM, and we didn’t leave here last night until close to midnight. We’ve DIYed the hell out of this place. We’ve created a balloon arch, a balloon garland, and a balloon backdrop. We’ve applied personalized party stickers with Cruz’s cute little face to bags of Goldfish and cookies and juice boxes. There’s a blueberry fruit plate that’s been arranged to look like Cookie Monster’s face and a strawberry fruit plate that looks like Elmo. We’ve assembled an Oscar veggie platter and a Big Bird cheese board. I’ve burned my fingers with a hot glue gun one too many times to count (birthday banner) and poked them with thorns (floral arrangements) and I’m too scared to go back into the kitchen because Lindsey—my usually cool, calm, and collected sister-in-law—is losing it in there.

“Queenie, these cookies were supposed to say, ‘Cruz is 1!’ But instead they say ‘Happy Birthday Cruz’…can you believe that?! I’m going to call Camille down at the bakery right now and—”

There’s an audible shuffling; I think Queenie’s wrestled the phone out of her hand. “Now listen, that sounds like a real problem, but let’s call Camille later. How about we focus on the party favors?”

I can’t go into the lion’s den; I have an important job of my own right now: converting David to my side.

I bend down near the cooler he’s filling with beers and lower my voice. “Listen, I’ll help you ice these down so long as you’re willing to never talk to Sawyer Garnett ever again.”

He gives me a curious look and yanks the box out of my grasp. “What the hell happened with you two? I saw him last night and he was mad as hell. Barely said two words to the group the entire time we were with him and then he left early. I doubt he’ll be in a better mood this afternoon.”

This afternoon?

“He’s coming?!” I slam the lid of the cooler closed in my outrage.

David pries it open again. “Of course he’s coming. He’s practically Cruz’s uncle.”

“ Practically Cruz’s uncle? Well I’m his actual aunt! That should count for something, and I’m hereby disinviting him.” I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll text him right now.”

“No can do. He’s picking up the barbecue from Doc’s and he’ll be here any minute.” He shoves a few empty beer cartons into my hands. “Recycle those for me, will you?”

I head into the kitchen with the flattened cardboard—not because I’m giving up on my argument with David but because I need to retreat and regroup—but when I’m at the doorway, Queenie catches my gaze, widens her eyes, and slashes her hand across her throat. The sentiment is clear: Do not come in here! Save yourself!

I should slink off in the other direction. Lindsey’s worrying that the party favor bags aren’t the right shade of red. “These are ruby red and I wanted them to be scarlet.”

She sounds close to hysterics. This is perfect for me; I can use this.

“How’s everything in here?” I singsong with an upbeat smile.

“Just fine—” Queenie reassures me at the same time that Lindsey replies, “Horrible!”

Queenie tosses up her hands and leaves us in the kitchen, mumbling about going out for a cigarette. (Queenie’s never smoked a day in her life.)

I slink in and take my spot near Lindsey, delivering sympathetic nods and a perfectly timed “You’re kidding me” while she drones on about the bags for the next ten minutes. To be perfectly honest, I work in the wedding industry—where specific shades and color families matter a lot—and even I can’t tell the difference between the color red she was hoping for and the color red she got.

The first breath she takes, I strike.

“Lindsey, I can tell how much effort you’ve put into this party.” This isn’t even a lie. My hands still ache from tying off balloons last night. Lindsey barely let us take bathroom breaks. “You want everything to be perfect for Cruz’s birthday, don’t you?”

Her eyes widen with worry. “I know I’m being crazy. It’s just all my mom friends go all out and you should have seen the party Mary Beth threw for Evelyn last month. There was a petting zoo and a snow cone truck! The kids left with custom Evelyn swag.”

“Yeah well, Mary Beth is a materialistic buffoon if you ask me. She was always like that, even back in school—” I realize I’ve deviated from my plan and quickly reroute. “But wow that party does sound special. Bet Cruz loved it. Now, your party is well on its way to being just as great, something the kids and parents will be talking about for years to come.” I wince as I continue, “There’s just one itty-bitty problem.”

Her hands reach out to grip my biceps and she shakes me a little in panic. “WHAT? Did David not get enough beer? I told him to get a few dozen cases!”

I grab her arms, holding her steady. “No. The beer is taken care of. I just think we might need to take another look at the guest list.”

Her face betrays her confusion. I’m sure she’s invited all of Cruz’s little baby friends and their moms, her side of the family, and ours.

“Sawyer,” I mouth, trying to keep this conversation on the quiet side. If David hears, he’ll try to intervene.

Her brows furrow. “What about Sawyer? He’s getting the barbecue.”

“ I can get the barbecue. That’s no problem. I just think…is Sawyer really someone we can trust? What with his dangerous past?”

She rears back in shock, and I realize I’ve accidentally laid it on too strong. I’ve made it seem like Sawyer’s a criminal.

“I mean can he really get the barbecue on time? He’s always running late.”

I’ve completely made this up. For all I know, Sawyer’s the timeliest person we know, but my seed of doubt has its intended effect. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, moments from calling Sawyer and kicking him off the guest list, but then Cruz comes barreling into the kitchen wailing.

Petey, Lindsey’s younger brother, rushes in after him. “Right, okay, I know it looks like a lot of blood, but it’s really not that bad!”

Cruz’s skinned knee takes precedence over my warnings about Sawyer as Lindsey scoops up her son and carries him into the bathroom so she can clean him up.

“Petey, you had one job!” Lindsey groans.

“We were playing outside just like you wanted!” Petey argues. “How was I supposed to know a one-year-old can’t ride a bicycle?”

I’m alone in the kitchen now, trying to come up with a new, better plan of attack when the back door opens and the smell of smoked meat foretells the imminent arrival of my new nemesis. I take a deep breath and prepare myself as best as possible, but it’s futile. Sawyer walks in from the mudroom with his arms full of foil to-go platters. They’re stacked so high he doesn’t see me until he slides them onto the kitchen island and steps back.

We’re only a few feet apart when his brown eyes lock with mine and his gaze narrows. “You could have helped me.”

My gaze narrows right back at him. “Looked like you were doing just fine by yourself.”

“There’s potato salad and beans in the car. Iced tea too,” he says with a bad attitude. He expects me to hop to it when he left me out in that field last night? If so, he’s delusional.

“Well then you’d better go get them,” I say, adding a little snark of my own.

He grunts in disgust and leaves to go retrieve it all without my help.

I’m not trying to be overly petty; I just need a second. I turn back and grip the counter, squeeze my eyes closed, and try to slow my racing heart. It’s no use; I see Sawyer behind my closed lids. He had a haircut this morning, but his short chestnut brown strands still have a slight wave to them. His square jaw is clean- shaven and sexy. His warm brown eyes have never felt more lethal. Thank god he didn’t smile. A girl can only take so much.

The back door opens again and I shake myself out of my little freakout, turning back around just in time so that Sawyer’s none the wiser. In fact, it looks like I’ve stood here stoic as a statue while he’s schlepped back and forth from his truck.

“Don’t want to lift a pretty little finger?”

If only he knew how much work I’ve already done for this party… I don’t take the bait though. I shrug it off and examine my pretty little fingers like I’m bored by his presence.

There’s a small part of me that wants to explain everything to Sawyer right here and now, about Kendra’s mission, about the rumors he’s clearly heard. But I’m not ready to make peace. I’m still bitter about last night. I scrubbed my dress with OxiClean for thirty minutes, and even then, the mud stains didn’t budge. I ended up just throwing it away.

“So how are we going to play this today?” Sawyer asks once he’s finished setting down the sides and drinks. He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms.

I feign confusion. “Play what?”

“I obviously don’t want us to ruin Cruz’s birthday,” Sawyer replies drolly.

“I won’t be ruining anybody’s birthday.”

“Did Sawyer just get here?! I smell barbecue!” Lindsey shouts from down the hall. “Can y’all get the food ready?! People are going to start arriving soon!”

We have no choice but to work together on the task. I might not want to be in Sawyer’s vicinity, but I’m not going to be the one to call mercy. I curve around the kitchen island and stand beside him. Even with the delicious smell of barbecue, I catch a hint of his cologne. I take a microstep to the left, but I wasn’t inconspicuous enough. Sawyer notices and smiles triumphantly at me.

I start arranging the to-go containers on the counter, creating a buffet line for guests. Sawyer’s tearing into the plastic serving utensils, pairing them with the appropriate dish. We’re in each other’s way the entire time, but no one cedes any territory.

“For your information,” I hiss quietly, “you have it all wrong. The things you accused me of last night are totally off base.”

“I don’t really care to hear your explanation of things. I have a reliable source.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

I want to know who the gossip is.

He doesn’t reply, and I’m forced to turn and wedge myself between him and the counter. This way, he can’t stick that spoon in the potato salad until he answers me.

“Who?” I prod with a finger to his chest.

He leans in, presumably so he can continue his job, but in the process, he crushes me against the counter. It’s not painful, but it’s a predatory claim all the same. He eclipses me, his body so much bigger than mine. Our eyes meet and hold. A fissure of desire overrides my annoyance, making it so my lips part and my sharp intake of breath is heard by the both of us. His eyes darken, but then he drops the spoon in the potato salad and pushes in, using me like a springboard before he turns and leaves without ever answering my question.

I hear him on the porch outside talking to David. They laugh, and I glower. This is going to be the longest birthday party of my life.

Fortunately, I have plenty to distract me. Once the food is set up and ready to go, I help Lindsey get Cruz dressed in his party clothes. Of course he has a Sesame Street t-shirt that coordinates with the banner we made for him. “It’s Cruz’s World!” it reads underneath a photo of him superimposed beside Elmo. Lindsey combs his hair back with a little pomade, and I know I’m biased, but he’s the cutest one-year-old I’ve ever seen. He looks like a miniature David but he has Lindsey’s big green eyes.

“May May,” he calls me, clapping his hands with glee when I tell him how handsome he is.

A few of the guests have already started to arrive once Cruz is ready to make his debut. I hold one of his hands and Lindsey holds the other, and the three of us walk out onto the porch so Cruz can get scooped up by Queenie then handed off to friends and family one after another. He giggles with all the attention and I’m smiling, enjoying myself for the temporary moment when I forget Sawyer is out here too. Cruz goes wild when it’s Sawyer’s turn to greet him, but then I would go wild too if someone threw me up into the air like that. Big whoop.

“Say-ya” is Cruz’s cute little name for him, and when he says it, everyone laughs.

It’s clear Sawyer and Cruz have quite the bond, even more so than Cruz and I do, but that’s because I’ve been living in Alabama. It’s hardly been a fair fight for Cruz’s love and affection. That changes today.

“Cruz! Want to go in the bouncy house?”

Never mind that I’m wearing a dress. I’m going to be the fun aunt even if it means flashing everybody at this party.

“Say-ya,” Cruz replies.

“What was that? May May? ” I’m forcing it a little here, but get it together, kid!

Cruz tugs on Sawyer’s hand then clasps his little fingers around mine as well, making it clear he expects us both to escort him to the bouncy house.

“Your aunt doesn’t want to bounce with me, Cruz,” Sawyer says once we’re out of earshot of the other adults.

“Yes because Sawyer has been a real poopy head.”

“Oh that’s good. Teach the kid bad words.”

“I hardly think poopy head is anything to worry about. I’m sure Cruz has heard far worse from his father anytime there’s an SEC football game on TV.”

His shrug says, Fair point.

“You won’t even fit in there anyway.” I point to the Sesame Street themed bouncy house that’s taking up a good portion of David and Lindsey’s backyard. The opening on the side is child-sized.

“I’ll manage.” Then his eyes drag down my body. “How are you going to jump in that outfit?”

I toss his phrase right back at him. “I’ll manage.”

I’m the first to shimmy my way through the tiny opening on the side, and it delights me to no end to watch Sawyer try to force his way in after me. His shoulders get stuck for a second and I think, Good, he deserves to die with the lower half of his body sticking out of Elmo’s mouth. But then I feel bad because Cruz is legitimately worried about “Say-ya” so I roll my eyes and hold my hand out for him to take. “Here.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine. Stay down there, but I won’t apologize if I accidentally jump on your head.”

This warning makes him come to his senses. With Cruz grasping one hand and me pulling the other, we heave Sawyer into the bounce house with all our strength. Cruz does most of the work.

I wipe my hands like it’s a job well done. “Of course, now that you’re in here, it’ll be impossible for you to get out again. I hope you enjoy spending the rest of your life in this rented bounce house, traveling from kids’ birthday party to kids’ birthday party, never getting to see your precious vineyard again.”

I can tell he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. To laugh would be to admit defeat, and neither one of us is prepared to throw in the towel. “That’s some imagination you have.”

“I can go on if you want.”

“Let’s not scare the birthday boy.”

We don’t need to worry; said birthday boy is too busy chewing on the mesh netting to listen to us.

“Err, let’s not eat that, buddy,” I suggest helpfully. Though of course when I tug him away from the netting, he starts to wail as if I’ve completely ruined his life. “Okay, shh!” I push him back in the direction of the netting, giving the poor kid whiplash. “Don’t get me in trouble. Eat the netting if you want to! What do I know?” I look up, terrified that Lindsey will come out of the house and see me standing over a crying Cruz. I’ll be kicked out of the party. Maybe even kicked out of my family. “Shh! It’s okay!”

“You’re a natural,” Sawyer remarks drolly before he scoops Cruz up into his arms and starts jumping around with him. Cruz—of course—loves this, and his crying immediately gives way to adorable high-pitched giggles.

“High! High!” he demands, and Sawyer delivers.

They go all around, and with Sawyer being so much heavier than me, I can hardly keep my footing.

“Stop double-bouncing me!”

“I wouldn’t be double-bouncing you if you weren’t just standing there. You’re supposed to be jumping.”

My knees buckle and I go down flat. Sawyer doesn’t ease up. Suddenly, we’re both ten-year-olds on a trampoline playing crack the egg. “Sawyer! I would be jumping if you weren’t—”

“Everything all right over there?” David calls to us.

“Great!” Sawyer lies with a false smile.

“All good!” I add with a cheerful wave from where I’m being rattled on the floor of the bounce house.

The second David turns back around, we drop the act, but Sawyer’s right. I need to give it my all with Cruz if I expect him to fall in love with me and say sayonara to “Say-ya” forever. With a herculean effort, I get back to my feet, and then I’m bouncing my heart out, really giving it everything I’ve got when a twinkling laugh filters across the backyard. I turn just in time to watch Charlotte arrive through the side gate, and I bounce over to the netting as she strolls in carrying an obnoxiously huge teddy bear.

Oh come on! It’s almost taller than she is! She’s tied a pink ribbon around its neck that matches her cute pink sundress and…a familiar pair of ballet flats. Gasp.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I whirl around to face Sawyer, gripping the netting to keep my feet underneath me. “CHARLOTTE told you about Kendra’s plan? Charlotte’s the rat?!”

I didn’t think she had it in her to be so diabolical!

Sawyer’s unfazed. “Charlotte did me a favor.”

“Charlotte did not do you a favor!” I whisper-hiss. “She did the exact opposite! She should have kept her mouth shut because she has no idea what she’s talking about and— and she really needs to stop eavesdropping on people’s conversations in the bathroom and just focus on, you know, peeing and getting out of there!”

Cruz laughs. To him, this must seem like one big joke, but it’s not. This is serious. We bounce, bounce, bounce. Sawyer gets too close on purpose, and I tip backward. If not for the netting holding me up, I’d be toppling back into the grass.

“She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” he insists, defending her. “She said anyone in the bathroom could have heard you talking on the phone during our date.”

I toss my hands into the air and try—unsuccessfully—to heave myself off the netting. Sawyer keeps jumping too close to me. I can’t even move. It’s infuriating!

“She doesn’t know the whole story! She should have come to me first before running to you! She did it to sabotage our relationship!”

“No, she told me the truth because Charlotte’s a real friend. And this was never a relationship.”

Nail, coffin— whack.

“Where’s my birthday boy?” Lindsey asks from across the backyard. “You’ve got a lot of people eager to see you!”

Cruz claps excitedly. “Ma-ma!”

“He’s all ready to go, Linds.” Sawyer walks over to the mouth of the bounce house and delivers Cruz to Lindsey. For a second, I think he might stay behind in here with me so we can hash this out, but clearly, he’s eager to be rid of me. He shoves himself through the opening of the netting like his life depends on it and leaves me in the dust.

“ Hey, Sawyer! ” Charlotte croons as he walks over to join the party.

My eyes sting.

Well this is just great. I almost feel like I might cry in this bright red Elmo hellhole.

I can imagine Lindsey’s friends asking, “Who’s the weirdo in the bounce house?”

Sawyer and I avoid each other like the plague through the remainder of Cruz’s party. I stick near Queenie and David, he chats with Charlotte and Hunter. In fact, Charlotte is his little shadow. Wherever Sawyer goes, she follows. Not that he seems to mind. I catch him smiling and talking with her, having a great time from the looks of it. I try to focus on enjoying Cruz—spending time with him is all that truly matters—and there are a lot of highlights. I love watching him go after his little smash cake. He fists his tiny fingers, his eyes alight with power once he realizes he has the entire cake to himself. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that grabbing fistfuls isn’t efficient enough, so then he just leans down and plops his face into it, eating with gusto while we all watch on laughing.

Sunday rolls into Monday and I’m still annoyed by my situation with Sawyer. I stayed behind to clean up after Cruz’s party and then I crashed early, exhausted from the weekend. I’m glad Wildflower Weddings has a full docket—I’m eager to dig into work—right up until Queenie tells me we’ve got a rehearsal at Starlight Vineyards this morning.

“ A rehearsal on a Monday? ” I ask incredulously.

Rehearsals are typically done the day before a wedding, or on rare occasions, two days before, so most times we do them toward the end of the week.

“It’s the only time slot that worked for the bride and groom,” Queenie explains, searching around her desk for something. I’ve learned I shouldn’t offer to help. Queenie insists she has a system in place—controlled chaos, she calls it. “Now where did I put that damn clipboard?”

“Saw it in the bathroom,” Marge remarks from her desk as she continues leafing through a new issue of Bride magazine.

Queenie snaps her fingers. “That’s right. Thanks, Marge.” She runs to get it, quietly ticking off everything else she needs to gather before she leaves. “ Wedding party list, iPad, music selections… ”

“Well have fun, Queenie! I’ll keep on trying to organize the office,” I call after her.

Queenie laughs on her way back out of the bathroom, clipboard in hand. “Oh ho, no ma’am. I need you there with me. Cassie always helps at rehearsals, and I can’t do it all by myself.”

“Okay, then take Marge.”

The phone rings and Marge answers, “Wildflower Weddings. Marge speaking.” Then, “ What? ” She hangs up a second later. “People really need to speak up.”

Then the phone rings again. “Wildflower Weddings. Marge speaking.” A beat later, “Oh, you want to book a consultation? Well why didn’t you say so before? Hang on a second.” From the side of her desk, she grabs a huge binder and tugs it on top of her Bride magazine, opening the front cover with a sigh. “We offer a few different levels of service. I’ll start with the least expensive—”

“She’ll be a while.” Queenie winks. “Now grab those loose papers off my desk and let’s go. We can organize them on the drive over and hope they’re what we need.”

I’m left with no other sound argument. Queenie needs my help, and I can’t leave her high and dry what with a thousand papers to sift through, good grief.

On the drive over, I declare, “I’m staying in the car.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’m not going to bump into Sawyer.”

She’s noticed something is off with us, but she knows better than to pry. “Oh, what are you worrying about? The vineyard is huge and we’re just going to be in the chapel. Won’t take but thirty minutes once it’s all said and done.”

Lies. These are all lies.

Queenie should have explained the situation better. This is no ordinary rehearsal. The bride and groom don’t meet us in the vineyard—they can’t because neither of them is currently located in the state of Texas. They’re not even together! The groom phones in from his office in Silicon Valley, and the bride is on Harbour Island in the Bahamas, enjoying a last-minute bachelorette party. It takes us thirty minutes just to get everyone on the same Zoom call using Queenie’s iPad.

“Can everyone hear me?” she shouts.

“The connection’s a little spotty on my end,” the bride says in a polished British accent.

I bite my tongue even though I want to tell her the connection is spotty because she’s currently lounging on a beach chair near the ocean! Where’s the nearest WiFi router? Florida?

“All good on my end,” the groom says. “Who’s the new girl?”

It takes me a second to realize he’s referring to me; I’m positioned just behind Queenie on the screen.

Queenie shifts the iPad so I’m in the center of the frame. “Michael and Amber, this is Madison, our temporary Cassie since she went on maternity leave.”

“She had her baby?!” Amber exclaims. “Tell her congratulations for me!”

“Yes, we’re all so excited, and we’ll pass on your well wishes. To put your mind at ease concerning this change, Madison is my daughter and she happens to be one of the best wedding planners in the game. She’s worked at Evermore Events in Montgomery for years.”

“Oh, my friend used Evermore!” Amber squeals. “Lisbet Stanbury?”

I grin, proud to admit, “Lisbet was my client. Her wedding was beautiful .”

This coincidence earns me immediate respect in Amber’s eyes, which is good because we’ll need it. This wedding is going to take pure luck to pull off.

The nuptials are in two weeks. There’ll be an evening ceremony with a cocktail hour and a reception at the vineyard, followed by an afterparty at their lavish hill country home (which I’m assuming is the reason they’re having this wedding in Texas in the first place).

Ideally, they would be here for an entire week leading up to the wedding, but Michael is wrapping up a huge deal with his company next week and can’t leave California until late Friday. Amber, meanwhile, has a friend’s 30 th birthday in New York City next Thursday and will be taking a red-eye to Austin later that night. Any number of things could go wrong between now and then, but Michael and Amber don’t seem at all concerned about flight delays or last-minute issues.

“It’ll all be fine so long as there’s plenty of wine and champagne.” Amber laughs.

Michael agrees. “If there are issues, we’ll just have another wedding in a few years.”

“Ha ha ha!” Amber finds this hilarious.

Oh to be so rich that the expense of a wedding means nothing.

Queenie goes through a few details with them: the helicopter is all set to fly them in for their grand entrance. The exotic menagerie had to be scrapped last minute due to local laws (“Can’t we just bribe the police?” Amber asks with genuine curiosity), and two band members from Maroon 5 are scheduled to play an intimate set for them and fifty guests at their home on Saturday evening, but they’ve capped it at ten minutes, no pictures.

“What’s that running me?” Michael jokes.

Amber laughs. “Oh Michael, what does it matter?!”

This is not the first time I’ve worked a wedding with high-profile musical guests and a helicopter fly-in, but I’m shocked Queenie’s managed to pull this off. I mean, was Marge the one on the phone with Maroon 5’s manager? I smile just thinking about it.

When I was young, Queenie specialized in small country weddings, sunflowers in mason jars, homemade cakes, maybe a local band if the bride and groom really wanted to splurge. Clearly, Wildflower Weddings has expanded beyond my wildest dreams. Imagine how big it could grow if Queenie had a filing system in place! A working website! A door with the name of her actual business on it!

The wood floor creaks behind us and we turn just as Crawford Garnett steps into the chapel. “Everything all good in here?”

Queenie beams. “Yes, we’re just getting underway with a rehearsal.”

“Are there stand-ins available?” Michael asks over Zoom. “I just really want to be able to visualize what it will look like the day of.”

“Sure, yes. I’m happy to hold the iPad and walk you through everything. Madison, you can stand in for Amber, and Crawford, would you do us the honor of standing in for Michael?”

Sawyer’s grandfather winces like he wishes he could. “My bum knees won’t let me stand all that long, but you’re in luck—I know just the man to take your place.”