“Bridesmaids?” I sighed and thought about it. “Sammy and Cara, if they could get free. Well, I know that Cara could, even if she’s in middle of a painting, but Sammy would have to ask for time off.” I stopped then, suddenly realizing what Timothy had just done. He’d spun the wedding into a reality feast.
“Oh, you,” I said. I felt like slugging the man, but I didn’t. Instead, I took another gulp of coffee, topped my muffin with some honey, crammed it into my mouth, and chewed.
There was silence between us then, me because I was chewing, he because he was cautiously waiting to find out what I’d say next. At least, I imagined so.
But I couldn’t help letting my mind babble on. “I guess Simone should be a bridesmaid, too — and Judy. They were essential in bringing us together.”
Timothy snorted. “You, my darling are as unpredictable as the stock market.”
I knew little about that. Mostly, I thought the stock market was something akin to gambling, although I knew that lots of people said it was necessary in order to save up for their retirement. I guess it was something I should investigate. There were huge stack of things I needed to learn about, come to think of it, but if what Timothy said was true, after he bit me, I’d have a very long time to soak it all up. That was the good part about marrying a Pooka, at least I think that was a good thing.
“If you involve the latter two ladies, the wedding should be an evening event. Simone, especially, has clients who depend on her.”
I nodded, but it seemed odd that since she owned her own business she couldn’t take off a day. But that didn’t matter. Evening was good.
“You’ve got me going again,” I said, sighing woefully.
“I wasn’t the one who was talking about bridesmaids,” Timothy teased as he nuzzled my neck with his lips.
I suppose we might have discussed flower arrangements, cake designs, and wedding invitations if a knock hadn’t suddenly pounded at the door. I could tell right off that it was Bob. He somehow made a fist against the door’s wood sound hollow and lengthier than a knock in general. Terry’s knock was more timid, a question, not a demand.
Timothy stood up, walked over, and after looking through the peekaboo, opened the door.
“We were just wondering when we were leaving for Sea World,” Bob asked.
“That was supposed to be a surprise,” Timothy growled. I noted that his growl was nothing like Bob’s and Terry’s. Theirs sounded wolfish. Timothy’s was gravel striking wood.