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txemrn · 1 year

Text

Somewhere Else

Book: The Nanny Affair, Book 3

Word Count: ~4730 (I haven't written TNA in a loooong time... I had a lot to say)

Song Inspo: "Paris" by Taylor Swift

Summary: Brynn (MC) reminisces about her whirlwind of a wedding day that was filled with jitters and professions of love.

Warning: a little language; fluff; bits of angst

AN: This is my submission for @moodmusicmonday's the Luck of the Draw! I'm not exactly a Swiftie, but this was so much fun, gleaning inspo from a song I otherwise would never have known! Thank you to whoever sent it, and to my amazing counter-part @sfb123 (who... I don't know if y'all know this, but she has been running MMM for most--if not all--of 2023): thank you for hosting this event, sister! You did a GREAT job!

A/N 2: These characters, some of the plot and even some of the dialogue belong to our friends at Pixelberry! Not truly preread or beta'd, so please excuse my errors!

~🖤~

Present

"... tonight on ET, we have the wedding exclusive of billionaire bachelor Samuel Dalton and his nanny-turned-fiancée Brynn Schuyler–"

The glow of the screen flickers to black before hosting a new picture.

"... I'm here with the groom's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Mason Dalton. Seeing your son at the altar like that, tell us –"

The soft click of a button changes to another channel.

"...the two are pictured here before they scurried off to an undisclosed location, some believe they are still here in Mexico–"

He turns off the television before tossing the remote onto the coffee table in our suite. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, running an anxious hand through his thick, chestnut waves. No doubt, he's staring at dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts.

I don't know if it was the turning of the bathroom doorknob, or if he could hear my nervous, labored breathing, but he abruptly stops, dropping his phone as he fixes his hungry gaze to me. A crooked smile forms as he devours me with his dark eyes, the flecks of copper reflecting in the candlelight.

Butterflies evade my belly as I stand before him, wearing nothing but the white shirt from his tux. I fidget with the cuffs of the long sleeves as they keep falling past my hands. I can feel him watching my body, an innocent awe etching across his face.

"I hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt." I blush, averting my eyes as the oversized cotton material slouches off of my sunkissed shoulder, exposing my bare skin. "I don't exactly have anything else–"

"It's perfect," he croons softly. He stalks closer to me, his hands finding mine. "You really think I wanted to see you a moment longer in that dress?" He chuckles, the warmth in his tone exhilarating my senses.

We fall into a comfortable silence, our eyes locked on one another.

We're finally here.

Him. And me. Forever.

------

Earlier that day

“...So as I look to our… to our–” I pause from my neurotic pacing, glancing down at my notes before quickly darting my eyes away once again. I wrote my wedding vows weeks ago, and had no problem memorizing them. But something about today… something is freaking me out.

“So as I look to our future, I vow to… I vow to, um… Damnit!” I hold up my vows again, but with my clumsy, nervous fingers, I accidentally drop the index cards. “Shit! Shit!” I try to catch them as each one floats into various directions all over the floor, some of them finding their way underneath the furniture of my bridal dressing room suite. With a heavy sigh, I crawl on my knees, attempting to reach the ones that fell under the coffee table.

“Happy wedding day–!”

I jump. The sudden chirp of my best friend's voice causes the back of my skull to meet the glass table with an abrupt thud followed by a tearful groan. "Ow!" I fall forward, my face finding the ornate rug as my fingers shield my now-aching head.

"Brynn!" Jenny panics, seeing my body now splayed on the floor. Aditya helps me up, assisting me to a nearby chaise lounge. Marisol fills a tea towel with ice before applying it to the back of my head with care. Jenny plops down next to me, biting her nail in worry. "What were you doing down there?"

I force a cordial smile, holding up a single note card. "Vows," I mutter, the small gesture making me wince from the surge of pain.

"Ahh! Your vows!" Jenny squeals at a higher decibel than normal. "You're finally a blushing bride! Can you believe it?"

"I… I can't believe it." My eyes widen in shock. I'm trying to match my best friend's enthusiasm, but I'm starting to wonder if I'm missing the bride gene. You know; the one that makes you giggle like a schoolgirl at even the dumbest jokes and cry happy, pretty tears at everything bridal.

Me? I think I'm about to hurl.

Jenny grabs my hand, admiring my engagement ring yet again. I blame her pregnancy hormones, and her desire to be locked down with someone. No doubt, she'd prefer Aditya, but at this point, I think she'll take anyone.

"Mrs. Samuel J. Dalton," Jenny singsongs, letting go of my fingers. She clasps her hands dreamily with a far-off daze in her bronze eyes.

I stare back down at the heavy rock on my finger, my arm growing fatigue under its weight. The glint from the sun catches the cut diamond just right, casting blinding fractals in my eyes. I hiss from the abrupt intrusion of bright light to my vision.

Mrs. Samuel J. Dalton, I repeat to myself. "I'm… I'm getting married," I state matter-of-factly as a catch my reflection in the floor-length mirror. "I'm… getting…" my voice becomes softer, more hoarse as I stand to look closer at myself. "I'm marrying Sam Dalton…" I can't seem to catch my breath as I watch my bridal party pop open a bottle of chilled champagne–and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. My voice grows louder, anxious. And terrified. "I'm marrying Sam Dalton… today!"

"Yes!" Jenny celebrates passing me a flute, "isn't this awesome?" She cheers with my glass before I watch the others lift their drinks in my honor. And everyone seems to freeze, staring at me to say something.

Truth is… I have no words. Oh God, what is happening?

"It's… awesome," I choke out, hoping my bright smile will convince them. And convince me. I quickly down the entire glass.

“I’m so excited for you and Sam," Jenny continues to gloat.

"Me and Sam." I take a deep cleansing breath. Right. Eye on the prize, Brynn. Me and Sam. It's just you and Sam. It's just you… and…

“So how’re you holding up?" Marisol takes a seat on a couch, crossing her legs nonchalantly. "I remember I was an absolute wreck at my wedding. Any pre-wedding jitters?”

Jenny chuckles, waving her hand in the air as if the mention of nerves is preposterous. "Jitters? This gal has been dreaming about this day since she met the hottie."

Aditya snickers. He saunters up close to Jenny, wrapping his arms around her waist before taking a sip of his bubbly drink.

I glance around the room, everyone's attention stuck on me. Damnit, I know I'm the bride and today is about me. But does everyone have to be staring at me like that, like I've given them a new hope in love, that love does conquer all, that Sam and I are their new favorite fairy tale?

"Right, Brynn?" Jenny prompts when I stay silent, nodding her head.

“I… feel like I’ve never been more ready for anything." I take a deep cleansing breath before curling my lips into a bright grin. "No jitters. No doubts.”

Jenny claps her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Then let’s get you to the altar–starting with your dress!”

The dress… my wedding dress… right…

------

Present

My cell phone rings, the chime breaking us both from the haze of the day. I had put it on Do Not Disturb when we left the ceremony, save for a few numbers. I had a sneaking suspicion of who it was.

And I don't care.

He smirks, nodding over his shoulder. "You gonna get that?"

I step forward, sliding my hands up the firm planes of his chest until I intertwine my fingers behind his neck. I shake my head. "Nothing could be more important than being here with you, being us."

Slipping his arms around my waist, he tenderly presses his forehead to mine. He nuzzles his nose flesh to my skin, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. His mouth is a breath away from discovering my own… when my phone rings again.

He smirks, chuckling at the annoyance and slightly pulling away.

"Damnit," I mutter.

He kisses my temple. "Go ahead," he encourages, "it'll be like ripping off a band-aid." He teasingly spanks my ass. "And then I'll kiss it and make it better."

“Promise?” I snicker, enjoying his hands on me, but reality quickly sets in. My eyes flutter close as my heart begins to pound like a drum in my chest. Just face the music…

I walk over to grab my phone, peering at the screen. I cinch my eyes closed again before swiping to answer the call.

"Hey–"

"Oh, thank God!" Jenny shouts through my speaker. "When you weren't answering, I just assumed the worst–"

"Jenny, I–"

"You guys just left," she nervously titters, "no goodbyes or anything. We went to your room, and–"

"Listen, I can't stay long. But everything is okay. Better, actually. And we're safe. We found another place to stay... You know? Get away from the chaos and the press." I chew on the inside of my mouth. "Can you… tell Moma that?"

"Yeah, of course, but Brynny… are you–"

"Jenny, stop. I promise, I will tell you everything when we get back from our trip. Okay?" My best friend doesn't respond right away, and I'm not sure if my answers satisfy her genuine curiosity.

"I… I just want to make sure you're happy."

I look at the beautiful man sitting on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. And suddenly, I am overwhelmed with feelings of joy as I see our future play out in front of me. With our kids. The business. With each other. And it all finally seems so perfectly clear.

"Jen," my eyes sting with pricks of tears, "I've never been happier."

------

Earlier that day…

"Brynn! Brynn!"

Startled, I spin around to see my favorite boys bounding around the foyer. "Whoa, whoa, you guys–" They crash into my arms as I bend down to catch them. I pepper kisses into their handsome curls, breathing in their scent that always feels like home. Gosh, my boys…

Mickey stands tall with his arms behind his back. “Miss Naya told us to give you this!” He pulls out my bouquet of fresh roses, a bountiful collection of gorgeous creams and soft pale pinks. "Tada!"

My breath hitches, taken aback by how absolutely dreamy everything has turned out. This wedding… it… it's really happening. I take the bouquet, the sweet floral notes dancing around me before I turn to look at two pairs of glittering eyes.

"It's almost as pretty as you, Brynn," Mason pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Just like a princess," Mickey chimes in.

“You two look pretty sharp yourselves,” I wink, adjusting Mason’s bowtie before fixing a wayward curl behind Mickey’s ear. "Do you have the rings like we practiced?"

The twins nod their heads in unison, pulling out the velvet boxes. "I promise we won't drop them," Mickey flashes a worried glance.

"Baby," I cup his freckled cheek, "you're going to do just fine." I place my hand on Mason's shoulder. "Both of you."

"Do we have to call you 'Mom' after you marry Dad?" Mason innocently questions.

Mom. The word hits like a brick in the pit of my stomach. I'm going to be someone's mother… not just one person, but I'm going to be a mother of two…

And this is no surprise to me. Afterall, Mickey and Mason are the entire reason I even met this family. I've only known the Daltons for less than a year, and yet, I have been one of the only mother figures in their young lives. When I agreed to marry Sam, it was a package deal.

God, I love them so much. They have given me so much joy, even on days I didn't think I was going to make it. Between the incessant fights and the scandals, these two precious boys have seen me and loved me for me. They were my family long before… well, long before Sam and me…

I can't imagine living a day without a joke or a prank from those two… but being their actual mother? Making sure these two boys grow into successful men?

"Well?" Mickey prompts for an answer to his brother's question.

I pull them both into a tight hug. "You two can call me whatever you want. The most important thing you need to know is I will always be here for you two."

"And Dad," Mickey teases, grinning.

"Right, Brynn?" Mason tugs on my elbow.

"Miss Schuyler," a deep, familiar voice resonates through the waiting area, tearing me from my conversation with the boys. "You are absolutely ravishing, my dear."

"Oh, Mr. Carter, you old dog," I blush as the tall, older gentleman dressed in a neatly pressed tux approaches us. I embrace him tightly as he gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Well, let me take a look at you," he gleefully laughs, taking me by the hand. He twirls me in a circle, the skirt of my dress flouncing out like a dream. Carter playfully whistles. "Enchanting," he grins, his gray eyes twinkling as his voice grows softer. "You remind me so much of my Evelyn on our wedding day."

My eyes glisten at the mention of his wife. Unfortunately, she couldn't be with us today. Carter says that she has her 'good days and bad days,' I sense the latter outweighs the former, but still the way he speaks of his wife of forty years is precious, the envy of my dreams and future.

I offer him a kind smile, trying to blink back the tears, but I can feel my face begin to flush.

Suddenly, the gentle crescendo of music coming from the chapel notifies us that it's time for the ceremony to start. Carter and I give the boys one more glance, reminding them to walk slowly and to smile. Mickey and Mason hear their cue, and just like we rehearsed, they begin their trek to the altar.

And now... I'm next.

Carter begins to leave to sneak back into his seat, but I grab him by his arm. I start to fidget with the boutonnière on his lapels. "Mr. Carter, I… I… did you maybe… I don't know–"

He takes my hands in his, calming my trembling fingers. "Miss Schuyler, take a deep breath."

I follow his directions, taking a deep gulp of air. "Jitters, right?" I exhale, fanning myself with my hand. "Perfectly normal, right?"

Carter kindly nods, guiding me slowly to the entrance. "When you step in there, find Mr. Dalton's eyes, and you stay focused on them. That's what helped on our wedding day."

"So you were nervous, too?" I glance down the aisle, noticing the twins are halfway to their spots. I quickly step back, my eyes fluttering closed. "And that helped you?"

He curls his lips endearingly. "It helped Evelyn."

"Really?" My eyes widen. "How?

He smirks as he recalls the memory. "We came from different families, you know? And because of that, she was terrified on what was supposed to be the best day of our lives. Seeking the approval of her parents, her family, even some of her friends… It was a lot of pressure on her."

"Gosh, that must've been hard."

"It was," he nods, "but, she said that on that day, she found my eyes… and they said everything that she needed to know."

My heart swoons at the thought. "She saw the love in your eyes?"

Carter coyly shakes his head. He must see my confusion because he gives a deep, hearty laugh. "You are a treasure, Miss Schuyler, just like my Evelyn. A man that loves you will look at you as such, not with greed over what he's getting… but with fear because he sees how much he has to lose; he realizes he would be wrecked, completely devastated without you."

An overwhelming sense of calm washes over me.

Find his eyes…

You are a treasure…

He sees how much he has to lose…

I squeeze Carter's hands, pulling him into one last embrace. "Thank you so much," my voice hitches.

He nods affectionately. "You feel ready?" He helps me adjust my veil.

"Almost." I bite my lip, stifling a mischievous grin. "Mr. Carter, do you mind… walking me down the aisle?"

The most handsome smile sweeps across his face as he buttons the jacket of his tux. With his eyes glittering down at me, he offers me his arm. "It would be my honor."

------

Present

"Is everyone freaking out?" He chuckles, extending his arm for me to take his hand.

I end the call, tossing my phone across the room. "I… don't care," I snicker. "Probably." Slipping my fingers into his palm, he pulls me to his side, my body crashing into him. We both tumble back onto the bed, our grunts turning into boisterous laughter, filling our room.

As our bellies begin to ache and we quiet down, I roll off of him, laying down next to him. We stare at the ceiling, falling into a comfortable silence… that is until I notice him pointing at the textured surface above us.

"What are you doing?"

He chuckles. "When I was little, I used to dream of traveling the world. I tried using my grandpa's old world atlas to map out the perfect trip, and…" He titters, shaking his head with embarrassment, "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"No," I roll onto my side, resting my hand on his chest. "I love it–I love this." I kiss his shoulder. "Keep going."

He rests his hand on mine, softly drawing circles with his thumb. "We had old popcorn ceilings," he chuckles, "kinda like this textured stuff, and so… I'd imagine it was my own world map. And at night, I would plan my–" he deepens his voice like the narrator of a movie trailer, "--international escape."

"Ooooo, show me, James Bond."

I start to giggle as he takes my hand in the air with his, his fingers curling around mine to extend my pointer finger. "Well, over here is us right now in Puerto Vallarta… and…" he moves our hands together, "up here is New York." He starts to blush, shrugging his shoulders.

"How about–" I guide our fingers to another spot, "--London?"

He chuckles. "I'll pack my knickers," he jokes in a British accent.

"And then Paris," I move our hands again.

"Oui oui, mon chéri," he jokes in his poor attempt to sound French, making me bust out into more titters. He guides us once more. "How about Venice?" He points to another area on the ceiling, his voice growing softer. "Or Athens? Or Bali? Hong Kong?"

I brush my nose against his stubbled cheek, whispering in his ear. "And then where?"

He turns towards me, the warmth of his chocolate gaze fluttering to my hungry lips as he places my hand back on his chest. "To the moon and stars?" The air around us begins to crackle, the electricity igniting our nerves as I feel my heart begin to race. I bite my lip, feeling a rosy swirl dance across my cheeks. "Anywhere. Somewhere else. With you."

I can feel his heartbeat thrum hard against my fingertips, the excitement feeding my desire for him.

I love him.

His large hand intimately caresses mine… but then he stops, looking down at my fingers. Feeling the abrupt disconnect, I follow his gaze and quickly notice he's fidgeting with something.

My ring.

------

Earlier that day…

I thought I knew what I wanted for my wedding day, but in this very moment as Pachelbel's Canon in D romantically announces my arrival, I am overcome with so much emotion as I look around the room. This is everything I ever wanted: to be surrounded by love. My breath shutters as I try to blink away my tears. This… this is absolutely perfect.

Carter pats my hand gripping tightly to his arm as he walks me graciously down the aisle. "There he is," he whispers to me, "look at him."

Sam. He's as handsome as ever in his gray suit and petal pink tie. His eyes twinkle, roaming my body as I draw closer to the altar. He offers me that charming Dalton smile, and everything seems to fade away.

It's just you and me, baby… Finally… after everything you put me through– I mean--that we've gone through…

I can do this... I can do this... I can–

Without warning, Sam gradually turns towards his groomsmen. One of his old fraternity brother's has made some kind of comment, causing some of them to crack up. During my procession.

Sam seems to be responding to the joke or comment. He subtly leans over, but after a few seconds, some of the men snicker, covering their faces and Sam chuckles into his fist, feigning a coughing fit.

It's fine, I tell myself.

Getting himself under control, Sam looks back to me with a mischievous glint in his eye before winking at me.

It was just a joke– an inside joke perhaps. Probably to help with his own nerves. It--it's fine. Everything is fine.

Just… stay with me, Sam. Please stay. I need to see your–

The twins lean up against their dad as he rests his hands on their shoulders. Together, they all watch me with doting glances… that is until one of the velvet boxes accidentally falls out of Mickey’s pocket. In a panic, he bends over to grab the small package, carelessly backing into his brother Mason, knocking off his glasses.

Giving me a crooked smile and shrugging his shoulders, Sam takes a knee to help the boys out, causing endearing chuckles from the audience.

Those two rascals…

I begin to admire my little mess of a family-to-be… until the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My pulse, without explanation, begins to race as a bead of sweat courses down the slope of my back.

Something doesn't feel right.

I can't help, but feel… as crazy as it sounds, like there's another pair of eyes on me. Of course, I realize I have over two-hundred guests watching me as I finish my march down the aisle, but this? This isn't the same. This stare… it's different. It's piercing, and intimate. And I feel… seen. Exposed. Preyed.

Looking behind Sam's crouched physique, a pair of deep, chestnut eyes feast on my every move. But rather than being filled with adoration or even his typical lust, there's a hint of sadness in them, as if they're watching a funeral procession rather than a wedding.

And for the first time today, my heart flutters as a fire kindles in my belly.

I make it to the altar, Carter placing my petite hand in my groom's grasp. I can feel the desire in Sam's eyes wandering across my body. He gives my fingers a squeeze, giving me another adoring wink… but I can't stop looking at him.

Focus, Brynn. Just focus…

Naya gives us a cordial smile before taking the microphone to begin. "Dearly beloved friends and family, we've gathered here today…"

It's no use. I can feel the bile rise in the back of my throat as the room begins to spin. Is it getting hot in here? Or are there just too many people?

As Naya continues, I look back to those haunting eyes, that look of betrayal, that look of devastation… and Carter's words begin to replay in my mind. 'A man that loves you will look at you… with fear because he sees how much he has to lose; he realizes he would be wrecked… without you."

Oh my God… I never noticed this before but… he loves me.

"... speak now," Naya bellows, "or... forever hold your–"

"Wait!" Fuck! What did I just do? The entire congregation starts to quietly murmur amongst one another. Sam clears his throat, his eyebrows furrowing as he adjusts his collar. "I–I'm sorry to interrupt, but… I just… I have a question, and I…" I sigh. "I can't do this–I can't get married unless… I need the answer."

A hush falls over the room, concerned looks are glued on me.

I should just shut up, and go along with this. Isn't that what I've been doing for the past several months anyway with the promise of a happily ever after? Does fairy tale magically happen after we say, 'I do?'

No. In my heart, I know this is the right thing to do. For me.

"Robin?" More whispers erupt behind me as Sam turns back to look at his best man, a pained confusion etching on his handsome features. "Several weeks ago, we pretended to be the wait staff in a restaurant… to, uh… witness a date." Sam raises an eyebrow, looking between Robin and me. "I asked you a question at the beginning of the night. Do you… do you remember my question?"

Robin coyly pushes his fists into his slacks, nodding his head. He exhales heavily, his nose rosy pink with unshed emotion.

My vision blurs as hot streams pour down my cheeks, but my attention doesn't leave Robin. "You… you answered, 'Sure. Sometimes…'" A lump forms in my throat, my timbre growing hoarse. "Tell me, Robin… if I asked you that same question right now, what–what would your answer be?" I choke out a sob, wiping my face with the back of my hands.

He just stares at me. Lost. Dumbfounded. Embarrassed.

I know this wasn't exactly the most opportune time to talk about this, but I also knew this would be our last time to talk about it. Damnit, maybe I was wrong. Carter was wrong. My jitters and my awful gut feeling… wrong.

I look at Sam, his jaw ticking in anger. And he has every right to be. I've made a fool of him, of us.

But I could've sworn I saw something…

"Sorry, everyone," Sam kindly addresses the audience, "we have a case of the wedding day jitters." He fakes a bright smile, the crowd tittering and cooing. At me. Like I'm a joke. Again. Sam takes my hand, but he refuses to even look at me now.

Will he ever take me seriously? I... I don't want to get married like this.

Sam clears his throat, nodding to Naya to continue. "Let's try this again," she chuckles, "we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of–"

"I lied," Robin blurts out, inviting the chaos to continue amongst the guests. He steps forward, pushing himself in front of Sam. "Brynn, you asked me if I ever thought about us–" Gasps and whispers crescendo in the room as Robin takes my hands into his. "And I told you… what I thought you wanted to hear. I mean, for Christ's sake, you swore you were in love with..." The corner of his mouth curls, his eyes bearing it all before me. "I knew better," he mumbles, falling into nervous titters, squeezing tightly to my fingers. "The truth is… Brynn Schuyler... Hell, of course, I think about us. All of the time. I dream of you as my bride. As my wife. As the mother to my children… I've never stopped thinking about us since the moment I first met you–"

Screams erupt as family members and friends jump to their feet. Naya attempts to holler through her microphone to restore order, but it's too late. Our guests that have come to attend a beautiful, romantic wedding have turned into an ugly, angry mob.

I get lost in the shuffle, unable to recognize anyone around me. My name is being screamed in several directions by several different voices, but it's no use. Terrified, I glance around, looking for a way to safety as everything crumbles around me.

Suddenly, a large hand grabs mine, pulling me through the vocal crowd. As we finally make it to the back of the sanctuary, his lips graze my ear. "Do you trust me?"

A rush of exhilaration floods my veins as my natural smile returns. Are you kidding me? With all my heart.

I nod.

"Don't look back, baby," he chuckles, tucking my arm under his. "Run!"

------

Present

"Do you mind, Miss Schuyler?" He smirks, grabbing my engagement ring on my hand.

I roll my lips, trying to hide my smile as I tilt my head side-to-side. "Not at all, Mr. Flores. Please."

Robin slips the jewelry off of my finger before pressing his lips to my now bare knuckle. It was so simple, yet the gesture so intimate; I was finally free.

This man…

Pulling me into his arms, he tosses the ring over his shoulder, an abrupt clink hitting the wall. With his handsome crooked smile, he leans towards me. "Don't worry," he chuckles, "I made him buy the insurance."

"Robin!" I squeal before our mouths meet in a tender kiss.

"What?" He pulls back, cupping my cheek. "I had a feeling."

"A feeling?" I snicker, raising an eyebrow. "That it wasn't going to work out?"

"Ehh, more .." He brushes his thumb across my lips, a serious expression growing across his face. "That you were the one. For me."

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

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sfb123 · 2 years

Text

Do you guys remember before I wrote fics, when I used to write food reviews for TRR? Well I did, and I do still plan to get back to that someday.

Today, I am going to return to my roots… kind of. There was just so much terrible food, and food related activity that I felt like it was my duty, as a fictional food reviewer, to comment on it. So may I present…

First of all, Chef Martin looks like an asshole. Probably the most punchable face in Choices history. And his menu options only made me want to punch him more. Fuck this guy.

If you know me, or have followed A Taste of Cordonia, you know I’m a girl that loves a good glass of champagne. Is it mostly for the aesthetic of looking fancier than I actually am? Yes, 100%.

*Side note, since our last culinary journey, I have made a discovery. Edible glitter. Throw a spoonful of that in your champagne and it’s extra fancy as fuck. That was my New Year’s Eve.*

This concoction however, I am torn about. Berries, great. Love a good berry. Except raspberry, not really my scene. I can get past it in a drink if I have to, could we throw some Midori in there instead? No, wait, never mind, that might be gross.

Wait...

Would it be? Should I try it? I think I might try it...

... with GLITTER! ✨

As for the bourbon situation, that seems like a drink for the old timey business man types that will inevitably be invited to the wedding. They’ll sneak away with their gross old man drinks and some cigars on the veranda while making off color jokes about “the good old days.”

I chose the champagne cocktail.

What the actual fuck. They know there are going to be seven year old boys at this wedding, right? Is there going to be a kids option of like chicken fingers or something? If so, can I opt for that?

OCTOPUS?! Gross dude. First of all, I’m pretty sure it’s well known at this point that I do not do seafood, of any kind. Not even the normal stuff. If you’re going to braise something, shoot ya girl a short rib.

How do you even eat that thing? Are you supposed to eat the suction cups? Or do you just suck the meat out of it like with lobster?

Second of all, I know they’re different, but I am an adopted member of House Beaumont, in squidly solidarity, I am utterly appalled that they would harm such a majestic creature. Yes, I know, wrong book. So sue me, my heart will always be in Cordonia.

Bean salad just sounds gross. Could it be because I don’t like beans of any kind? Yeah, probably. And if you zoom in on that picture, it definitely looks more like a soup than a salad. I also don’t do soups, so strike two.

There is honestly no winning here, they both sound gross, they both look disgusting, and I bet they both smell bad too.

I chose the bean salad. At least there won’t be a bunch of octopus that have died in vein when nobody touches their abomination of a “dish”.

Whatever happened to chicken or beef at a wedding? Yes, fish is also a suitable option. And I guess duck is kind of a version of chicken? But I feel like a swanky wedding like this would have some kind of fancy steak option.

... that I would get without question, because if you eat red meat and don’t choose it when you’re invited to a wedding, you’re doing it wrong.

I’m about to say something incredibly hypocritical, I will be the first one to admit it, so I don’t need you guys pointing it out to me. Okay, here we go...

I love ducks, I can’t imagine ever eating one.

Yes, I love pigs, and I still eat the fuck out of bacon and other pork products. Yes, I love cows, and y’all just heard my rant about fancy steaks at weddings. Chickens are cool, but I’ll fuck up a good chicken parm, and don’t even get me started on chickey fingies (that’s what I call chicken fingers, because I am emotionally 5 years old most of the time).

My dream in life is to have a pet duck and name it Duckster. I don’t dream about getting pet pigs, or cows, or chickens, so that’s the difference in my head. It’s stupid, and irrational, but have you heard some of my reasons for not eating things? Then I’m sure you’ve come to expect it from me.

Now that we’ve ruled out the main feature of the dish, let me tear apart the rest of it. I don’t like red wine, so I can’t imagine I would enjoy that sauce. Polenta? I literally had to google it because I thought that was a kind of cheese (I got polenta and pimento mixed up). Google defined it as “cornmeal mush”. I truly do not think they could have made it sound any less appealing. It sounds like baby food or something, not at all like something I would ever want to put in my mouth. And definitely not something that should be served at a fancy rich person wedding.

The other option, is more seafood. FML. Let me say it one more time for the people in the back, I. Hate. Seafood. It’s gross, it makes me gag to even just smell it, let alone have it anywhere near my taste buds. What this option did have going for it, was the pesto. If you ask me, pesto is the best-o (that’s just a fun little joke I like to throw around from time to time 😉). But here’s the thing, shouldn't the pesto be over the salmon, not under it? That is how sauce works, right? It’s basically asparagus pesto with a hunk of fish dropped on top of it.

I chose the salmon. One, because I couldn’t do that to my dearest Duckster, and two, because at least it had pesto. I’ll just save my roll from the bread basket (unless it’s not normal bread and they do some weird thing with it, which they probably will), and dip it in the pesto. That should hold me until I hit the drive thru on the way home.

That being said, do you think Door Dash will deliver to a wedding venue in Mexico?

Alright, now we’re talking. Let me at that cake! Yummy in my tummy!

Pretty standard offerings, which is appreciated after the parade of yuck that we’ve been dealing with. Chocolate and vanilla are my jam. Dream option, mix the two and have a marble wedding cake. Strawberry is fine, but it will never be my first choice for a dessert (unless they are actual strawberries, dipped in chocolate).

In the real world, when you have a multi-tier cake, you could usually pick multiple flavors (fun fact, my wedding cake was 3 tiered and our flavors were red velvet, vanilla with some kind of fruit or berry thing between layers, and funfetti). But Chef Asshole only lets you pick one. Apparently his pastry chef can’t handle multitasking.

I went for the vanilla, I felt like it was a lighter, simpler, choice for a wedding.

------

Then things get kind of weird...

Diamond scene in the restaurant kitchen, violated probably like a million health codes. And 100% there was probably a sous-chef, or that damn pastry chef in the pantry or something trying to get ready for the dinner rush when these two horn dogs come barreling in and making a mess of everything.

I like strawberries. Preferably dipped in chocolate or whipped cream (which also makes them sexier, BTW), but I do go back to basics and eat them plain as well. I actually had some earlier today as a matter of fact.

I like strawberries, but I don’t really like strawberry flavored things (ice cream, cookies, cake, etc).

That’s all I’ve got on strawberries. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Seriously? He decided to use red hot chili peppers? Sam Dalton, suck my kiss (IYKYK. Also, sorry not sorry).

But for real, what a horribly unsexy idea. Here was his reasoning behind it:

“Chili peppers get your heart racing and your adrenaline going... stimulating the body.”

You know what else they do, Sam? Give you bad breath and the runs. What the fuck is sexy about that?

Also, where do you think you’re putting your fingers after you touch those things? Because ouch.

I don’t like any heat in my food, so this is an immediate no for me.

This is clearly some kind of a soufflé or lava cake, not chocolate sauce. But it’s chocolate, so let’s go. Can someone grab me the rest of those strawberries from before?

No? The strawberries are gone? Okay, I’ll need to put the chocolate on something else then...

Perfect! 10/10 for presentation (for either option, honestly).

I mean, what can I say about chocolate? I love it, it’s delicious. I think it’s quite obvious that I’m a fan. Let’s just have a Willy Wonka themed wedding and make the whole menu chocolate. The invitations cold be golden tickets, it would actually be super cute.

That’s me, I’m Augustus Gloop.

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