Bridesmaid dresses. They were getting theirs made, which was fine by Cherisse, especially since her sister insisted the dresses have pockets. Not exactly an easy thing to find ready-made. Cherisse cherished the few dresses she’d found that actually had pockets because apparently, designers didn’t think people who wore dresses needed them, which was ridiculous. Plus, they’d all voted on styles that were slightly different yet still complimented each other, and that wasn’t an easy thing to find in stores here.

“Just don’t make us wear anything hideous,” Julia declared as they shuffled next door. This place was an extension of the bridal store, and just as fancy with its buttery-looking couches lining the wall. The seamstress’s assistant offered up a variety of beverages.

“What’s the color scheme again?” It took Cherisse a moment to realize Julia was asking her, as Ava was busy chatting with the seamstress.

Cherisse should know this. She was the maid of honor. She should have this info stashed away, right? Ready to trot out at times like this, except she was drawing a blank.

“Uhh, it’s...um, this sort of peach, I think.”

“How do you not know this?”

“I got a lot going on, okay? I have to plan that joint party with Keiran. That’s enough of a headache on its own. Then, I’m doing the dessert stations...”

Julia folded her arms. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s coral, with different complementary yet lighter shades.” They both turned to Remi, who shrugged as she sipped from her glass of something bubbly. “What? I listen when it suits me. Plus, that’s gonna pop with my skin tone. I’mma look like a brown dougla goddess in that flowy coral stuff.”

Cherisse had steered clear of the offered bubbly, choosing to play it safe with water. “Seriously, Remi? Champagne? Aren’t you hungover enough?”

“Listen, this is expensive bubbles. I’m playing never see come see right now, I’ll admit that. We don’t get this luxury often.” She sipped her drink. “And, you know what they say? The cure for a hangover is more alco.”

Cherisse rolled her eyes, wetting her throat with her cool, refreshing water. She felt Julia’s judgy look, which was fair. She should have known about the color scheme. She was already failing at this maid of honor gig. She’d never been one before. Bridesmaid, sure. That was low pressure. You just had to show up to things when told to. This was different. It being her sister ramped up the pressure even more. She needed to take a more active role. First thing on that list: actually set up a planning meeting with Keiran. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Had to be done, though. Sooner rather than later.

As if he’d sensed she’d been thinking bad thoughts about him, Keiran appeared in the shop. “Hey, sorry to bother you, ladies, but I need to borrow the maid of honor a sec.”

#

KEIRAN

Cherisse’s wrinkled nose shouldn’t be cute, but it was. Something about that coupled with the colorful pattern of her leggings and the t-shirt with MATURE-ISH printed across her chest made her seem less like the perfectly put-together Sugar Queen and more approachable. Except that last part wasn’t exactly true. She wasn’t amused by his appearance—he’d seen that look enough times to know—but this was too important, and as the best man, he had no choice but to face her wrath.