Read When Girlfriends Chase Dreams for Free Online

help clean up a wetted bed or tidy up the house. Conner says that it takes a special kind of person to do that kind of thing. I just say, “I can’t imagine not doing it.” Seriously, helping those who can’t help themselves… It just feels right—like it’s what I should be doing.
    Now, with a lot of wedding madness weighing heavy on my shoulders, I’m actually relieved I don’t have to go into the hospital or make any rounds today. Today it’s all about meeting with Melissa and figuring out where I’m going to exchange vows and celebrate afterward with my husband. If anyone can help with the venue trouble, surely it’s Melissa. If her more than a thousand Facebook fans are any indication of her talents, then surely she’ll be outstanding.
    “Claire?” a voice calls out my name from across the shop.
    I’m sitting at a small table in the corner of the agreed-upon Starbucks, five minutes past our appointment time. Part of me is worried that I didn’t correctly jot down the precise Starbucks where Melissa and I are to meet. It’s Seattle, birthplace of the Mecca of coffee shops. Trying to describe the location of a specific Starbucks is like when I try to explain to Conner the difference between green and teal. There are so many shades in between that specificity (and visual aids) are absolutely required.
    At the call of my name, however, I’m pretty sure I heard Melissa right and am at the correct Starbucks. So I wave my hand in the air and try to get her attention.
    Melissa sees me and heads my way, a venti beverage in her hand, her long, platinum hair swaying as she cheerfully bounces over.
    “Hi!” she says in a voice that’s more syrupy than my own—and I have a sugary-sounding voice. “I’m Melissa Cresswell!” She’s pumping my hand vigorously, flashing an equally strong smile filled with very straight and white teeth. “Of MC Design and Coordination. MC for Melissa Cresswell.” She does a one-arm shrug, still pumping my hand. “And MC for, like, Master of Ceremonies.”
    We exchange pleasantries, and I am intrigued as she efficiently pulls a pale pink legal pad and matching pen from her handbag. Straight to the point. I like it. Melissa Cresswell of MC Design and Coordination just has to pan out. My faith in wedding perfection has been restored!
    “So, you said your wedding is set for August sixteenth of this year, and that you want a very vintage-type, 1920s-style wedding theme, correct?” She’s somehow smiling while she talks.
    I nod my head excitedly and fill her in on details, like the bird theme, the number of bridesmaids and groomsmen (four’s a well-rounded number), in addition to the maid of honor, Sophie, and the best man, Chad. And then I spill the beans about the venue, the deposit, the sudden need for a Lutheran church, and one, preferably, that can be bettered by some burlap and tulle. (No, I can’t drop that topic yet.)
    I gush on and on about my wedding vision for an entire hour, in the process downing two tall pumpkin spice lattes. Why I don’t just settle for one venti or a middle-ground grande , I’ll never know. It’d be a smarter move financially, but I think small portions like talls, regardless of the number of talls, is far healthier. I sometimes even parcel them up throughout the day. It’s far healthier that way.
    “This is definitely doable,” Melissa says sanguinely.
    Her words don’t only ring with confidence, but her face says she can conquer my wedding troubles.  
    “Oh, good,” I say, sinking back into the hard, wooden chair. “I’m so happy to hear this.”
    Melissa finishes writing something on her pad—it has to be her fourth or fifth sheet—and pulls her silky hair into a ponytail. “I’m going to make sure you have your dream wedding.” She sips her beverage, though it looks like it’s fully drained by now. “I won’t sleep until you are one hundred percent satisfied with your wedding.”
    I tell her that this is music to my ears.