Read Online Toss the Bride by Jennifer Manske Fenske - Free Book Online

in black metal frames. I like this space. She has it all together. I know that I do not.
    â€œSo, speaking of weddings, when am I going to bake for you?”
    This is Iris’s favorite question. She teases me because she knows Avery is no closer to walking down the aisle today than he was six months ago. I get tired of explaining my boyfriend to my family—which is safely in Cutter and, thankfully, not in town to harass me—and to friends like Iris. About the only person who doesn’t hassle me is Maurice. He has enough brides on his hands, I figure.
    Just the other day, I found a brochure for a pricey Italian resort in Avery’s car. I picked it up and read about the sandy beaches and lagoonlike pool and all of the spa treatments. I put down the brochure and got very quiet. Avery will probably go there with his parents or by himself—he likes to travel alone (which I think is strange)—and I just decided to have a pout about it. It might sound a little weird, but lately, as I get closer and closer to wanting to marry Avery, I imagine us traveling together. And when I do, it’s as a married couple. Jetting off in our current boyfriend/girlfriend status holds little attraction for me. I want things to be permanent with Avery. It’s daring but I’ll say it: I want to be his wife .
    But when I get right down to it, I’m not even his fiancée. We don’t plan vacations together. Plus, the trip would have to be on his tab because wedding director’s assistants can’t afford lagoon pools. So, with all that said, I guess I just wanted Avery to gush, “Macie, guess what? I found this great resort and I want you to come with me. We’ll get married by the sea and honeymoon to the sounds of the ocean. Where’s your wedding dress?” Harrumph, I groan to myself. That will be the day.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” Iris asks. She is the nicest friend I’ve ever had, and I know I am lucky to have her. In high school, I never really ran with a gaggle of girlfriends because I was always clutch-ing a boyfriend. It’s nice to be more grown-up and have a woman friend with whom I can talk about issues bigger than lip gloss and good brands of hair product. I met Iris at a wedding, right after I started with Maurice. I had to go to a country club outside of the Perimeter—that’s the highway loop around Atlanta—and I was lost. I was driving on a traffic-choked side street and starting to panic when Iris’s van cut in front of me. I was steamed at first. There I was, lost, and edgy because I wanted to make a good impression on Maurice, when this big, white van marked “Cake Cake” cut me off. Driving poorly in Atlanta is a public art, and I was turning that over in my head when it hit me: Cake Cake. That was the wedding-cake baker for the wedding I was trying to find. I figured the odds were good that the van was going to the reception site, so I followed it through fourteen yellow lights and in no time was at the door of the country club, exactly one minute early. Iris drives like a maniac, but I didn’t tell her that when I met her.
    The sunlight in Iris’s studio, combined with the smell of cake, is making me sleepy. I try to give her the “I don’t want to talk about Avery” look, but that doesn’t deter Iris. Nothing does. When she was applying for a business loan for Cake Cake, the bank turned her down. Not at all ruffled, Iris returned to the bank the next morning, dressed in a cute purple suit, and passed out cake to all of the employees and bank customers waiting in the lobby. A few minutes later, a vice president invited Iris back to her office and Cake Cake was officially launched.
    â€œDon’t give me that look. I’m just concerned about you,” Iris says, and I know she is. Her brown eyes are kind, and I soften just a bit. Maybe I can tell Iris about my Avery concerns. I just don’t know