Toss the Bride Read Online Free Page A

climbed a mountain in another country or ridden a camel, but it sounds like a nice way to spend the first few weeks with your husband.
    Avery is always traveling somewhere. He doesn’t exactly work, per se, but he does explore. I’ve never asked to go with him—not even once—although I used to think I would be thrilled if he offered. But lately, I have begun to consider our future. Traveling together to foreign lands is starting to seem like something I would rather do as his wife, not just his fun, happy-go-lucky girlfriend.
    I guess I’m also touchy about traveling with Avery because I know that he would have to foot the bill for everything, right down to the cab racing down the Champs-D’Élysées or the gondola ride on a canal in Venice. In some ways, I do feel like I travel to exotic places with my boyfriend. He takes pictures of himself next to volcanoes and marble statues and sends them home to me. He buys gifts of coral necklaces and leather boots from faraway markets and then tells funny stories about shopkeepers when he returns.
    At about the time I’m bored of counting wedding sites in the park—I’m up to twenty-two—Avery and I pass under the old stone bridge and arrive at the dog park. Inside, I spot my favorite breed and migrate toward them. There’s something I love about a German shepherd. The regal head, the loyal brown eyes—it’s the perfect dog for me. Alongside the chain-link fence that surrounds the dog park, three German shepherds romp with one another. Their big paws turn over the wood chips, making little clouds of dust pop up here and there. I sit down on a rock to watch. Avery stands beside me and plays with my hair.
    â€œSo, I guess you have another one tomorrow?” Avery asks, even though he knows that Saturday is my big workday. We’re only together tonight because there’s no rehearsal dinner for Darby’s wedding tomorrow.
    â€œYou got it. It’s the restaging.”
    â€œAh,” Avery says, nodding. He knows about this one.
    Darby was one of our biggest clients. Her father owns a ton of radio and television stations up and down the East Coast. Darby is a puffy-haired blonde who works as a news anchor in Atlanta. Her remarkable talent for mispronouncing the names of famous people and major capitals of the world has brought her some fame and even a few fans. When it came time for her to marry, she chose Maurice before she chose the groom.
    Darby’s wedding was actually three months ago. Big affair—splashy ceremony in a huge cathedral off of Peachtree Street, even bigger reception at an exclusive Midtown club. Guests took home baby magnolia trees as favors. Horse-drawn carriages brought the entire wedding party to the reception—not an easy thing to do on Atlanta’s overburdened city streets. I worked for months on this wedding. When I say we tossed her, I mean we tossed her. Maurice took a week’s vacation after that one. He even turned off his cell phone.
    I pet a shepherd who trots over to me, pink tongue practically dragging on the ground. “You’re playing hard, aren’t you, boy?” I rub his big, friendly head. Dogs tend to establish cliquish play groups at the park. The bigger dogs run with one another, while the little guys, like Jack Russell terriers and poodles, form a protective club near the front gate. Occasionally, a dopey boxer will try to crash the small dogs’ party. When that happens, one of the small fries sends the bigger dog running off with a whimper. Those small dogs are a tough lot.
    â€œSo, what time’s the restaging?” Avery asks, rubbing another shepherd who has jealously arrived on the scene. Their owner, a middle-aged woman, smiles at us from a few feet away.
    â€œI have to be at the church at 10:00 A.M. That’s the earliest they would let us do it. And we have to be out by one because a real wedding’s coming in.”
    When