Sweethand Read online

  Things slowly fell into place. April was Ava’s wedding planner, and this would be Ava’s first time trying on dresses. Ava was definitely hungover too. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, barely fully open as if shielding against the morning brightness.

  “Shit, I need to shower. Seriously, wake Remi up. I think I have time to do something about this horror show.” She circled her face with a finger and then stormed out.

  By the time they assembled downstairs, they were the sorriest bunch. Ava’s eyes were hidden behind giant sunglasses, and she was downing water like her life depended on it. Cherisse and Remi had completely forgotten a change of clothes, and there wasn’t time to swing by their apartment. Cherisse was wearing some wildly patterned leggings Ava had tossed at her. Unable to shimmy into any of Ava’s shorts or jeans due to being bigger in the hips and thigh area, it would have to do. She refused to roll up to the fancy bridal store in sweatpants, so she’d ignored those in the pile. She’d borrowed a t-shirt too. One that said MATURE-ISH on the front. One that, as she squinted at it long enough, looked like her t-shirt that had mysteriously gone missing forever ago.

  Remi, with her tall ass self, didn’t try to borrow anything, not even a t-shirt. She’d shrugged and, after showering, put back on the same dress she’d worn last night. The dress was horribly wrinkled, having been slept in, but Remi didn’t seem to care. She slipped on her wedges from last night and slumped on the couch, blinking at them sleepily, not giving a shit, her almost waist-length hair tumbling across one shoulder.

  Then the guys and Maxine showed up because they were getting fitted for their suits today as well. Eric looked fresh as ever, and Cherisse immediately hated him. She was suffering, and he was smiling like he hadn’t had a damn thing to drink last night. She pretended Keiran wasn’t there, even though she got a little satisfaction that he wasn’t looking as chipper as Eric. Scott didn’t look too bad either, but then again, when did he ever?

  “Jesus, you look like a zombie horde,” Julia remarked when she showed up. She’d left early last night and had obviously gotten the most hours of sleep, looking the freshest of them all in ripped skinny jeans, a cute camisole, and sandals, sunglasses perched atop her head. Her hair was pulled back into a perfect bun, baby hairs slicked down so that not a strand of hair was out of place. Brow hiked up, Julia looked Remi up and down. “Is that the same dress from last night?”

  Remi shrugged. “It covers my ass, mostly.” Mostly was right. A slight breeze would have the dress swirling up to show Remi’s entire backside. Cherisse had borrowed underwear too. Ava always kept an unopened pack of the most randomly patterned undies in her drawer. Cherisse was currently sporting ones with turtles. She had no idea what Remi had on under there. As if she knew exactly what Cherisse was thinking, Remi flipped up the back of her dress to reveal Snoopy boy shorts.

  “Cute, right?” Remi asked, popping her booty. “I’m keeping these.”

  Ava wrinkled her nose. “Why would I even want them back? You wear ‘em, they’re yours. Can we just go, please?” She waved her phone around impatiently. “We have an appointment, and mummy is two steps away from trying to force-feed us some nasty ass hangover remedy.”

  That got everyone moving. Their mother was known for always having some bush concoction at the ready for all situations.

  Eric had procured a nine-seater van, so they were rolling together, which was annoying as hell because she ended up next to Keiran, who merely grinned and held up his phone.

  “Public apology incoming.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, you can witness it firsthand. I really am sorry. I hope you know that.”

  She stared ahead as Eric maneuvered the van onto the Solomon Hochoy highway. It was at least an hour’s ride to Princes Town. Keiran’s apology sounded sincere enough, but Cherisse felt the anger brewing all over again.

  “Do you even realize the assholes that came out their holes to spew shit on that post? I know I should’ve run far from the comments, but fucking bros talking about my place being in the kitchen or under them, there’s no in-between, made me see red.”

  Keiran’s eyes widened. “You read the comments? First rule of the internet, don’t read the comments.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m too curious for my own good, clearly. Doesn’t change the fact your joke prompted that.”

  Keiran stared down at his phone. “Shit. I’m... I fucked up.”

  “We females.” She shot him a pointed look. “This one fucker kept using “females” in his comments. What a gem he was. Know what? I’m not repeating what he actually said, you can read it yourself if you want. I’m tired of having my job looked down on. Oh, you bake? For fun? What’s your real job? Like the food industry isn’t a thing? I don’t get it too much, but once in a blue moon, so your joke? Not funny.”

  He looked appropriately embarrassed now. Good. Why should she feel bad about pointing out the shittiness of it? He squared his shoulders and opened his camera app, shooting her an apologetic smile.

  “Okay, I’ll make this right.” He held his phone up to his face. “Happy Saturday, peeps. Most of you might have heard about the article by now. I’m not linking to it to boost any more hits to it, so don’t ask. Well, I made a really not cool joke, and I’m truly sorry. Women have guys belittling everything they do every damn day, and I added to that. Which was frankly fucked up. My mom would have my ass if she knew I did that.” He winced. “I guess she’ll ask me about it after this, Lord, help me. So, I wanna say, flat out to Cherisse, I’m sorry. And I’m grateful for you calling me out on it.” He glanced over at her, then back at the screen, corner of his lip quirking up as he fought a grin. “In a unique way, but message received.”

  She bit her lip to hold in her snort. The macaron message was still hilarious, and she had no regrets about sending it.

  “So, I’m gonna do better. I don’t expect her to forgive me, it’s her right not to, but I just want her to know I’m truly sorry. Last thing...” His eyes hardened. “To the assholes commenting utter shit under that article, grow up, get a fucking life. Oh! And go check out her Sweethand website for sweet treats. I’ll leave the link in my post. That’s it. Laters.” He threw up deuces before stopping the video, played it back, then looked to her for approval. She nodded, and he posted to his accounts.

  “Are we good?” he asked, and Cherisse pursed her lips. Did he think it was that easy?

  Cherisse folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. “It’s a start.”

  Keiran shrugged. “Damn, you’re a tough one, but thanks for not poisoning those macarons, I guess.”

  She cocked her head. “So, you did eat them?”

  “I admit nothing,” he said, looking out the window.

  They made it to the bridal store, late as expected. Eric and Ava parted ways so the groom’s party could see about their suit fittings.

  The store attendant peered at them over the top of her glasses. They looked a hot mess, but Ava wasn’t about to be judged while in this fancy ass store. She adopted a haughty stare as she tossed out her future mother-in-law’s name. It was amusing how quickly the woman’s disposition changed, suddenly turning charming, attentive.

  “How ‘bout dem dollar signs, huh?” Remi whispered out the side of her mouth. Not a single lie detected. Mrs. Jones’s name clearly held weight here.

  Cherisse grabbed a seat as her sister described the sort of styles she was looking for, so one of the store girls could pull up the options on her tablet. Cherisse switched between watching Ava as she tried some dresses on and her phone, going through updates from Reba. As maid of honor, she felt a little guilty not giving this her full attention, but work was never done, and multi-tasking was a thing.

  Apart from doing the dessert stations at Ava’s wedding, she’d booked a job for another wedding a few weeks before. Plus, Reba had sent her the stock numbers for the Sweethand goodies she sold in select bakeries and groceries. She’d need to restock soon. Lots of cookie and cupcake baking ahead, but
Cherisse loved it. Surrounding herself in the sugary baking smells made her happy. Had since she’d hovered around her mother’s kitchen, watching the delicious-smelling batter become tasty treats.

  A loud gasp and a nudge from Remi tore her gaze away from her phone, which nearly slid out of her hand.

  “Well?” Ava turned to them, smile hopeful, but Cherisse, used to Ava’s facial expressions, knew right away—Ava had found the one. She was in love with this dress, no doubt. Cherisse could see why.

  The entire top portion of the dress was this intricate lace pattern. The halter style showed off Ava’s toned arms. The skirt was a gorgeous ivory color and swished around Ava’s legs as she twirled. As her sister kept twirling, Cherisse got a look at the back, which dipped low, revealing a lot of skin.

  It was a good thing the wedding wasn’t happening in a church because they’d definitely want Ava to toss a shawl or jacket or something over the top, which would have been a shame because that bodice needed to be seen. Cherisse wasn’t sure how her sister and Eric had pulled off not getting married in church. Her parents went to the Roman Catholic church in their area every Sunday and dragged Ava and Eric with them more often than not. They’d given up on getting Cherisse to go regularly. So Cherisse had expected her parents would push for a traditional church wedding. She’d have to ask Ava how she’d managed that magic.

  “I have never been queerer in my entire life,” Remi muttered, and Cherisse bit her lip to keep her snort in.

  “Stop lusting after my sister,” she mock-glared, elbowing Remi in the ribs.

  “I’m not,” Remi insisted. “Just appreciating the gift that is woman.” She winked and continued to smile up at Ava from her seat.

  “Eric’ll die.” Julia beamed at Ava, eyes a little shiny like she’d burst into tears any moment.

  “Or cry,” Cherisse added. “You look gorg, sis. He’s not ready.”

  Ava placed her hands on her hips, smile wide. “Good. If he doesn’t cry or at least gimme an open-mouthed gasp, I’m leaving him at the altar.”

  That had everyone getting a good laugh in and Ava doing some more preening in front of the full-length mirror. Even some of the other customers complimented her. She truly looked stunning, even with her sunglasses pushed up atop her head and her eyes still a little squinty, courtesy of the hangover.

  “He won’t know what hit him,” Cherisse assured her sister.

  After donning her own clothes again, Ava whipped out a fancy-looking card that just screamed money and paid for the dress in full. At their raised brows, her sister smirked. “I’m not marrying him for his money, but it sure doesn’t hurt.” She winked at them, indicating it was time for the next order of business.

  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.

  “What do you want?”

  “Just...” He gestured for her to follow him; he needed her away from the rest of the bridal party.

  She rolled her eyes but walked with him towards the door.

  “This could’ve been avoided if you’d replied to my message or answered your phone,” he pointed out. More discreet that way too, but fact was, she could avoid her phone. She couldn’t avoid him in her face like this.

  “Phone’s in my bag, and we were a bit busy fawning over Ava. Just get on with it. I’m too hungover for your shit.”

  “Ah, a chink in your impenetrable armor.”

  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before reopening them and exhaling loudly. “Get on with it.”

  Oh, how he wanted to continue teasing, but charm would be better suited here. Cherisse was likely to strangle him with one of the colorful shawls that hung near the door. “You’d be saving Eric’s life here. We’re trying to explain the color scheme, but all we’ve got is it’s sort of peachy? Eric’s not the best with color names, and he obviously didn’t want to ask Ava.”

  Cherisse cocked her head. “You serious?”

  “Yes.”

  Her laughter was unexpected, as was her muttering, “Oh universe, you are so funny.” But the haughty look that replaced her laughter wasn’t. And there was the Cherisse he knew. “Coral, obviously. Things the best man should know.”

  Of course, she knew. Cherisse probably had a binder filled with important details or a dedicated folder on her phone. She wouldn’t be scrambling like he’d done in the store. The clerk had been unimpressed, not bothering to conceal his disgust that neither the groom nor the best man had the answer to such a simple question. Another thing on the growing list of things for Cherisse to hold against him. He’d basically shown his soft, exposed belly to a predator, and no matter what anyone thought about Cherisse being nice, that was so not the case. Her sweetness masked a devious interior.

  “Keiran, are you over here spying?”

  They both
turned as Ava strolled over, Julia and Remi not far behind.

  “Nope, definitely not.”

  “Well, since you’re here, I may as well mention this. I mean, it could be fun? Will be fun.” Ava grinned. “I need everyone’s help making flower crowns. Entire bridal party gets ones with real flowers, and the rest of the guests can get the fake ones. Everyone’s gonna look so cute in them!”

  At least he knew it was a garden wedding theme. The flower crowns would be a nice touch.

  “So I want to start on making the fake ones soon as a sort of trial run? I know we’re three months away, but I’d rather see if we suck at this before it’s too late. The real ones’ll be done closer to the wedding day.”

  “Wait, you want us to make them?” Cherisse looked horrified.

  “Well, yeah.” Ava flung an arm around Cherisse’s shoulder. “Think of it as a wedding party bonding moment. All hands on deck.”

  “Sounds fun,” Keiran chimed in. Cherisse scowled. He’d seen those crowns on Pinterest before. How hard could they be?

  Ava squeezed Cherisse’s shoulder, waving bye to Keiran as she steered her sister over to the woman patiently waiting to measure them. “It will be fun. I promise.”

  Chapter 8

  Cherisse

  THE PROMISED FUN WAS a damn lie.

  Her first attempt at a flower crown looked a hot mess and nothing like the creation in the video she’d been trying to follow. It was closer to one of those Pinterest fails.

  “Well, this isn’t so bad.”

  Cherisse’s fist closed around one of the silk flowers, crushing it in her palm, jaw tight as she looked over at the perfect flower crown Keiran was holding. Of course, his was an exact replica of the one in the video. The universe was definitely having a laugh at her. What were the odds he’d be good at this?

  “I hate you.” She couldn’t stop it from slipping out. She’d been fighting with her one crown for what felt like forever. Apart from the one in his hand, Keiran had three others already made and placed off to the side.