Breaker scratches his cheek as he says, “I think hate is a strong word.”
“Breaker, I set her precious heirloom veil on fire.”
“Not on purpose. I think that’s something we need to stress. You did not set the veil on fire on purpose.”
“I’m sure she sees it that way.” I glance toward the back of the shop, where I see The Beave with her assistant at a table, looking over what seems to be different textures of paper. “How do I even approach her? Do I apologize again? Do I just leave the decisions up to her?”
Breaker pulls me to the side and whispers, “It was an accident. Was it embarrassing? Yes, but it was an accident. She will respect you more if you head to this next meeting with your head held high and not constantly apologizing. You said what you needed to say, so move on. Okay?”
I nod. “You’re right. Just . . . move on.”
“That’s the spirit.” He straightens and puts his hand on my back, guiding me to the table where The Beave is sitting.
As we approach, she glances up and says, “Ophelia, I wasn’t sure you would show up, given your appearance when we left the church, but it seems like you can clean up appropriately.”
I tack on a smile as I say, “Wasn’t too difficult.” I can sense she’s looking for me to crumple, and I want to. I desperately want to fall to her feet and apologize over and over again, but Breaker is right. She will respect me if I don’t. “So what are we looking at?”
“Paper density and weight,” The Beave says. “Really, it’s not necessary that you’re here.”
“It is,” I say as I take a seat next to her, and Breaker takes a seat next to me. “These are my wedding invites, after all. Plus, paper is fun.” I pick up a stack and flip my finger through the thick pieces of paper. “Do you know what I love about paper?”
“I’m sure you have some well-thought-out opinion that I can’t wait to hear,” The Beave says with a heavy dose of condemnation.
I can see we’re still angry about the veil, and I’m sure she’s looking to cut me down, but like Breaker said, don’t buckle. Hold strong.
“I do, actually,” I say. “Paper is a journey—”
“Uh, Lia, I need to speak to you for a second,” Breaker says, standing abruptly.
I glance up at him, confused. “What?”
“I need to talk to you.” His eyes grow wide. “Now.”
Sensing the urgency, I excuse myself from the table and head to a corner where Breaker turns his back from The Beave and traps me between the walls and a collection of watercolor pens for sale.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Just saving you before you make yourself look like a fool.”
“What do you mean?”
“Paper is a journey?” he asks. “Where exactly were you going with that?”
“Well, if you let me finish, you would have seen that I was going pretty far with it. I had an entire diatribe about how it opens humans to new worlds.”
“Yeah, let’s keep the philosophical talk to a minimum. The Beave is not going to want to hear it. She’s on edge. Just keep the talking to a minimum. Okay?”
I glance over Breaker’s shoulder and catch a glimpse of the deep, menacing scowl she’s sporting as she flips through templates. Huh, maybe he’s right.
“Okay, yeah. Maybe she doesn’t want to know how paper is a journey.”
“I can bet my balls on the fact that she doesn’t want to hear it.” He pats my shoulder. “Deep breaths. Don’t ramble for no reason. It shows weakness. Pick out an invite with confidence.”
“I can do that.” I nod. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We head back to the table, and like the gentleman he is, Breaker holds out my chair for me, and I take a seat. The Beave glances up and asks, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, quite good. Thank you.” I let out a deep breath, and as Breaker takes a seat, I say, “Funny how paper is made, right? I watched this documentary—”
Breaker pops right back up from his seat and says, “Lia, another word.”
Reluctantly, I follow him back to the corner, where I whisper, “What did I do now?”
“How about we try this,” he says, with one hand on my shoulder. “You don’t talk at all.”
“So just sit there in silence with her?”
“Yes.”
“You know I can’t do that. I don’t like silence. I can hear people breathing. It makes me uncomfortable.”