I have lots of thoughts on weddings. Mainly, I feel like they’re an archaic, patriarchal method of staking a claim on a beaver. Which might have been necessary in the dark ages, but isn’t so much now.

Beyond that, I’m kind of excited to dress up like a princess for an afternoon, as long as I can wear flip flops under the dress, because heels suck.

“So you’re sure about this summer?”

“Positive.”

“I can check out venues this week,” he offers.

“That’d be awesome.” Score one for Violet. Just like I planned, I won’t have to do all the legwork, and Alex will have something to occupy his time while he’s recovering.

However, I’m not a wedding savant. I have absolutely no idea how much time and effort goes into planning one, or how challenging it’s going to be to rein in Daisy and my mom once we tell them it’s happening.

I also have no idea how gung ho Alex is going to be about the wedding. And I should. Because I know how he is about everything else in his life.

He’s two-hundred percent about being the best hockey player.

He’s two-thousand percent about being the best orgasm distributor.

He’s two-million percent about being the best fiancé.

So of course he’s going to up his game when planning a wedding. I should know this, but all I can think about is how I’m making my life easier while I stroke his ego.

I really should know better by now.

15

Pussies Take the

Easy Way Out

VIOLET

My phone buzzes for the eighty-millionth time. It’s a group message that includes my mom and Daisy. This whole feed started this morning. At six a.m. On a Saturday. It’s been endless since Daisy left three weeks ago, and it only seems to be picking up momentum.

“You should turn that off,” Charlene says. “The whole point of this afternoon is to relax, and your phone buzzing constantly is the opposite of relaxing.”

“I’m sure it’s just some pictures.” I shove a biscotti into my mouth so I’m unable to answer questions.

I follow it up with a sip of my lactose-free latte. My dairy cravings have gone through the roof. It’s directly related to Daisy and my mom’s incessant texting.

Daisy and Robbie are coming for a visit next weekend. I’m not sure why since I talk to her every single day.

About the wedding.

The motherpucking wedding.

And of course Sunny’s pregnancy figures in heavily. Weddings and babies are Daisy Waters’ crack fix. And my mom’s. I had no idea she was such a baby freak until Sunny got herself impregnated with Buck’s yeti spawn.

Despite the incessant texts and emails, I’m not having regrets about agreeing to the wedding this summer. Not real regrets. Not the kind where I’m all, shit, let’s hypothesize what it will be like if someone gets murdered before this is over and I have to have a prison relationship with Alex where they put me in a facility that doesn’t allow for conjugal visits. I’ll have to smuggle cucumbers in my vagina so I can get myself off.

Nope. I’m not worried about murder.

It’s not like that at all. Mostly. Sort of.

Cucumbers must be in high demand in women’s prisons.

I give in when my phone registers eleven new messages and check them.

There are ten pictures, all potential locations for our wedding. Which Alex has been working on finding since I gave him the all clear to start planning.

“I don’t get why Daisy can’t find a venue that houses less than two hundred people. Actually I don’t get why she’s finding venues at all. I need this thing to be small.”

“That’s because my mom thinks two hundred people is small,” Sunny says. She turns the nail polish over and reads the fine print on the back. “Should I be worried about the chemicals in this? Are the oils they use here natural?” She pats her tummy—her still mostly flat tummy. She’s not really showing yet. She looks mostly like she ate a large meal and hasn’t quite digested it.

“I researched everything before we scheduled the appointments,” Lily reassures her. She gives her best friend’s mini-bump a rub. “Everything is baby-safe.”

The four of us have been spending a lot of time together. While Alex is busy planning our wedding—with the unneeded interference of our mothers (I don’t know why they don’t just text him)—I’m helping Lily plan a baby shower for Sunny. Baby stuff is way more fun than I expected; it’s all cute and tiny.

“Yeah, well, my idea of small is more around the forty-people mark. We could have it in the backyard and be done with it.”

“You had two hundred people at the engagement party in the backyard,” Lily points out.

“I’m surprised you remember that since you spent half the night locked in a spare bedroom getting boned by Horny Nut Sac.”

“You sound jealous, Vi.” Lily has adopted Randy’s snarky tone and his smirky smirk. It’s almost as cute as it is annoying.

Normally I wouldn’t be jealous, but Alex’s physical state has continued to put a damper on the beaver lovin’. He’s much better than he was when he first came home from the hospital, and the Super MC hugs are increasing in frequency, but he’s not at his pre-accident level of stamina. It’s driving him insane. My legs look great, though, so that’s a plus.

Still, Lily’s sex life is something to be envious of. If anyone should be pregnant in this room, it’s her. I think she gets more dick than any of us. Possibly combined. Those two are fuck-crazy.