Nothing in my life can compare to my kiss with Landon. Through our entire car ride to the race track, the time I spent kicking his butt in the race, and the moment after when I leaned back into his arms all I could think about was that kiss. And it’s all I can still think about. We shared another kiss before we parted for the evening, and it proved just as amazing as the first.

Last night I dreamed about our kiss. My subconscious found me sprawled out on the roof of my car like Tawny Kitaen in the Whitesnake video “Here I Go Again,” though not close to as sexy and collected as her. As I went to brush my hair out of my face, I not so gracefully found myself planted on the ground. Hitting the floor that hard woke me from the dream, and my arm is sore because of it. At least it only happened in my dream and not in real life. I wouldn’t be able to even look at him.

My early wake-up call demanded a lot of coffee, and I’m already on my third cup when Carly barges into my office.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, you’re here.” She’s flailing her hands in the air out of breath.

“Where else would I be?” It’s nine-thirty on a Monday morning. Unless I’m on the couch hacking up a lung or living over the porcelain bowl, I’m always at work. I never miss a day.

She stops for a minute as if she’s thinking of how to answer me. I watch as she shakes her head and whatever thought she had out of it before she sits in a chair in front of my desk. What in the world is going on? She drums her palms on her knees.

“What is it, Carly? Spit it out.” Whatever it is, she’s making it worse every second she doesn’t tell me. We can go around in circles until lunch, and when she finally tells me, she’ll wonder why she didn’t do it sooner. “You’re freaking me out here.”

“Okay.” She presses her hands to her mouth and when she removes them her mouth is hanging open. “Okay,” she says again as she smiles. “What are you doing on February tenth of next year?”

“Let me check my schedule,” I say as I pretend to search through my phone’s calendar. “You know I don’t plan that far ahead. Why? What’s February tenth?”

“My wedding day!” She jumps from her chair as she yells, and then sits back down once she realizes how loud she said it. “My wedding day,” she says in a normal voice. “Eddie and I are getting married on February tenth and I want you to be a bridesmaid.”

Am I hearing her correctly? February tenth? Of 2018? She must mean 2019. “You mean a year from now.”

“No. February 10, 2018.”

“Are you kidding me?” I toss my phone on my desk. “That’s like two months away! How can you plan a wedding in such a short time? And why do you want to?” Spontaneity is something Carly has, but this is crazy if you ask me.

Her face drops. “Juliette, I thought you’d be happy for me.” She sinks down into her chair and crosses her arms. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

Trick question. I’m happy for her if she’s happy. I should have said, Congratulations, Carly. That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to spend your special day with you. Instead, I was a jerk and hurt her feelings. What kind of friend am I?

“I’m sorry, Carly. Yes, I’m very happy for you.” I wish I could have a double take. Why aren’t we given do-overs in life? I walk around the desk and wave for her to stand up. I embrace her. “I can’t wait to spend your special day with you.”

There. Hopefully, I’ve righted my wrong. I can’t believe I reacted in such a jerky way. Being honest is important, but there’s a lot to be said about tact, and I didn’t seem to have any of that during that moment.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me you’re there. I know that this is not a lot of time but I want to be married to Eddie for as long as I can. The sooner we’re married the better.”

Landon comes into my mind at that moment. I can’t help but think of his sister and understand what Carly is feeling. Having that piece of paper between them doesn’t change how they feel about one another though. That piece of paper can make life more difficult if things don’t work out.

I guess I never expect things to work out. That’s part of my problem.

“Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“Well, my sister Rachel is the Matron of Honor and, unfortunately, she lives in Minnesota.”

“That is unfortunate. I can’t imagine being forced to be a Vikings fan.”

“Ha, ha. Hilarious. Anyway, she can’t come visit until Christmas, and I’m trying to finish as much as I can before then. The quicker I get it done, the less I have to worry about things going wrong.”

“And you want me to help you.”

“Yes. Would you?”

A glance at the calendar on my desk sends a sharp pain through my head. There are only twenty-one days until Christmas. She wants to plan an entire wedding in twenty-one days? A hall, an officiant, flowers, dresses, centerpieces, music, food, a bachelorette party, a shower. That’s a lot in such a short time. I’m efficient and can complete tasks on a short deadline, but a wedding is a tall order.

“It’d be an honor.”

“Yay!” Carly claps her hands and hugs me. “Eddie and I are meeting with the band on Saturday morning. The florist could fit us in but only at the same time. I need you to meet with the florist.” She yanks a sheet of paper out of her pocket. “Saturday at eleven.”

“You want me to pick out your flowers? Shouldn’t you and Eddie do that together?”

“I already know what I want.” This time she goes for her back pocket. “Here. This is from Brides magazine. I want exactly this. Not a shade lighter. Not a shade darker. I’m giving you a blank check for the deposit.”

I open the check and it’s signed by Carly with the florist’s name already filled into the “Pay to the order of” section. My heart quickens for a moment as I think of Hunter and all the blank checks of our mother’s he wrote out to himself, forging her signature. Even though she pre-filled in the information, having this makes me feel a bit naughty.

“I shouldn’t.”

“No. You should and you will. I need you, Juliette. Please help me and Eddie.”

She needs me, really needs me, to help her with this. Even though I’m not Matron of Honor, I’m a crucial part of making the wedding of their dreams happen.

“Besides, if you don’t do it, I’ll make you sing karaoke at the holiday work party.”

She wouldn’t because no one forces me to do anything. I realize she’s joking, but her plea is real. I slide the check into my briefcase well aware Bridezilla has officially arrived.