Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp Page 0,68

runaway bride? On her third strike, one wonders if we should make the call that marriage is OUT for Dixie Winston!

Eight years later…

“You got the long pink one and the purple Tracy’s Dog?”

“Yes, Janine,” I assured her politely, grateful this conversation was contained inside my AirPods which were tucked discreetly under a shield of short, loosely curled hair that hopefully deadened any lingering noise from the conversation.

Who knew even my hair felt the freedom to spring back up after cutting off all the straight-laced dead weight I’d left in Alabama.

“And how about the one with the tongue action—oh, and ten of the mini wand massagers?”

“Yes, Ja—”

“Okay, and how about the pink bottle of lubr—”

My grunt of frustration cut her off as I finagled myself and the giant bag of sex toys out of the sleek, adult toy shop in midtown.

“I have everything on the list, Janine.” I rolled my eyes even though my voice was sweet-tea sweet.

Some things you never lose, no matter how far you go.

I knew I had everything on the list because I was the one who’d made the list. “Trust me, I’ve planned hundreds of bachelorette parties. What I bought—and will have delivered to you today—is everything you will need for Sarah,” I reassured her.

There was a loud whoosh of relief on the other end of the line, and I wished I could share in it. But until I was back safely at my office and not parading around the city with a giant bag of dicks—literally—that wasn’t going to happen.

“Oh my God. Thank you so much, Thea. You are seriously the best wedding planner that ever existed, I swear to God.” Her Long Island accent came through loud and clear on the last part.

“It’s what I’m here for,” I offered pleasantly.

I loved my job—down to every last detail. Which was why I invariably always ended up going above and beyond the call of normal wedding-planner duties to meet every request, whether it was providing last-minute alterations or walking down the aisle as an emergency bridesmaid. Or purchasing pleasure toys… though I wasn’t going to add the latter to my list of services anytime soon.

I did more than most which was why I was sought after more than the rest.

“You’re a lifesaver. Worth every penny.” And there were a lot of those.

My smile turned into a grimace as I made my way carefully down the stairs from the shop in my heels. It was the warmest day we’d had so far this spring, so I had on a sleeveless cropped lavender blouse that fell just over where the high waist of my light gray slacks sat. My point-toe pumps peeked out from underneath the hem, in the same way the outfit just hinted at a sleek sexiness underneath the chic, business-like attire.

Fridays were normally reserved for me to get my administrative work done, my calendars updated, and to check in with my vendors. Unless I had a wedding the following day, in which case, Friday was a whole different beast, I did all my business boss-babe things on Friday.

Which is why I wasn’t dressed nor was it in the plans to hightail it to the other side of midtown this morning.

“I will let you know when everything is on its way to you,” I ended the conversation with a smile.

As soon as the call ended, I bit my lip and swallowed down a groan.

This was what I was paid the big bucks for—buying a sack of dicks for a maid of honor who ‘forgot’ the bachelorette party for her best friend, the bride, was tonight.

Janine forgot because she was too busy with plastic surgery appointments to plan the party—which I’d also done. I’d given her the singular task of buying these party favors for the rest of the girls, but even that was too much for her Botoxed brain.

And I wasn’t being judgmental. The first thing she’d told me when she’d called was that she forgot the favors because she’d had her mini-tummy tuck and facial fillers placed in the last two days and her ‘procedures’ had left her out of it.

Recalling the confession made me giggle.

Usually I called the store and ordered all the… products… I needed for this kind of party ahead of time. But Janine hadn’t given me that luxury when she’d called me this morning in a panic to tell me she’d forgotten.

The bride, Lisa, was my client and her wedding was in six weeks. Lisa’s mother had insisted on the very