Greer: I know. I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t hate me. It’s just . . . he’s my father. And it’s all very sudden but it’ll be over in a month.
Gretchen: I can’t believe you’re bailing on cake tastings. Isn’t that something preggo ladies are supposed to be crazy about?
Greer: Can you bring Hunter with you?
Gretchen: Only if I want him to give me smoldering looks the entire time and distract me.
Greer: Well, that’s not so terrible, is it? :)
Gretchen: You crazy romantic, you. Fine. I’ll bring Taylor or Edie or someone. FINE.
Greer: I really am sorry.
Gretchen: I’m just giving you shit. You know I love you. And you know I’ll be texting you pictures of everything to make sure it meets your approval.
Greer: This sounds like a plan. :)
Gretchen: So seriously, which girlfriend is he marrying?
Greer: That is the million dollar question, isn’t it?
Gretchen: Oh man, I wish I could be a fly on THAT wall. That sticky, sticky wall.
Greer: Gross, Gretchen! That’s my dad.
Gretchen: Yeah, but your dad’s a stud. An old, somewhat creepy stud, but still a stud.
Greer: Thanks for that.
Gretchen: Consider that visual subtle revenge for bailing out on the cake tasting. That and I’m going to get marzipan vaginas to decorate the edges of the groom’s cake.
Greer: I’m sorry, and no you are not.
Gretchen: Fine, fine, I’m not.
***
Greer sat down in the dining room with her wedding checklists the next morning after breakfast. There were so many things to be done, and such a short time frame in which to do it. Every time she thought of the one-month deadline, she panicked a little. One day at a time, Greer, she told herself. A daily checklist of tasks to be done would help.
She’d started late last night, gathering information. Luckily her father and The Dutchman magazine already had a publicist, so they’d worked together to craft a publicity statement to send to all the major news outlets. Her father had wanted it to be a news event, and it was already. Her personal Facebook was flooded with friends linking to the news articles, and her phone was flooding with texts. She tried not to read most of the articles sent to her, since the vast majority mocked her father, his magazine, and his three girlfriends. Poor Bunni, Kiki, and Tiffi. She knew they were excited at the prospect of (possibly) marrying her father, but they were going to be dragged through the mud until then. Heck, probably even after.
It was going to be a big mess, and she was in charge of it.
Heaven help her.
She had a cup of hot tea sitting in front of her and had been making notes on her checklists while waiting for the triplets to wake up. Her stomach wasn’t erupting at the smell of breakfast anymore, which was good. She didn’t have time for more morning sickness. There was far too much to be done and too little time to do it in. She’d left a note for the triplets to meet her at eleven, and a note with her father’s assistant to contact the best man and to get his information to Greer. She’d been so shocked last night at her father’s big reveal that she’d completely forgotten to get the man’s name. To her surprise, the best man had agreed to be at the first planning meeting this morning. That would definitely make things easier, considering he was going to stand in for her father (who had left early to be on-site for a photo shoot in Tahoe).
The girls wandered in late, but all three were excited to begin. They sat down across from Greer and she pulled out three wedding planner checklists. If there were going to be three brides, she was going to treat this like three concurrent weddings and just hope that most of the details matched. It was clear that Tiffi wasn’t up for much, though. She yawned and mainlined coffee while Bunni and Kiki chatted. Someone obviously wasn’t a morning person.
Well, that was too bad. Greer had too much to do to cater to Tiffi. She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed and still no best man. “Let’s go ahead and start, shall we? We can just loop in the best man when he gets here.” When all three women looked as if they were going to burst with excitement, it was hard not to share their enthusiasm. Greer smiled at them. “Now, let’s consider this a brainstorming session, all right? No idea is too strange or too weird. We’ll throw it all out on the table and I’ll take notes, and we’ll see what we come up with, okay?” She glanced down at her checklist. “The first thing I’d normally go over with a bride-to-be is the budget, but I’m going to surge ahead and assume we’re fine with that. Let’s think about venues. Do we want to have the wedding here or at a church?”
Tiffi snorted, and Bunni giggled.
“I’m going to guess church is out. Perhaps here, then?”
“What about a destination wedding?” Bunni asked.
Oh god, if they wanted to do a destination wedding, she’d strangle the lot of them. “I’m pretty sure that if we’re planning anything other than an extremely, extremely small wedding, it’d be impossible to book anything at this late a date.”
“What if we moved the wedding out another day or two?” Bunni blinked innocently at Greer. “Can we still do a destination wedding?”
Bless her heart. Greer tried not to throw a pencil at her big blonde hair. “Most weddings are booked a year in advance.”
All three women made a small “oh” of surprise. Now they were getting it. “I bet Stijn would like to have it here,” Kiki ventured.
“Do you think we could put a big ice sculpture in the pool?” Tiffi asked. “That would be cool.”