PRESENT
Some couples are built to stand the test of time; others remind me why I don’t offer refunds. As much as I’d like to be proven wrong, these two are destined for the big D within five years, if not sooner—the big D being divorce, not dick.
It’s not that I don’t want to believe in them—it’s just that my instincts, honed over time, are rarely ever wrong. One—his annoyingly affectionate nickname for her. Now, I am not a nickname hater, love a good nickname. But “baby” pronounced “bee bee” might be my thirteenth reason. It takes everything in me not to gag when I hear it. Two—she looks to him before answering any of my questions, like he’s her keeper. I can’t. What inThe Handmaid’s Taleis this shit? And finally, three—at the cake tasting, he broke the cardinal rule of feeding your partner cake. He smushed it in her face. Everyone, and I meaneveryoneknows it’s the number one sign of a future divorce. I don’t make the rules, but they never fail me.
“Thank you so much for suggesting this bakery, the cakeswere all delicious,” Jenna, my client says as she clings to her fiancé Matt like a barnacle on a sinking ship.
“Good thing the pieces were small,” he looks at Jenna with a misleading smile. “Wouldn’t want you gaining any weight before the wedding.”
I clamp down on my lips tightly to keep from screaming. Matt is the absolute worst. He was a douche in high school and clearly hasn’t changed much since then.
Jenna giggles as if he said a joke and continues beaming at him with so much happiness, it makes me want to slap some sense into her. I don’t, obviously. I am a professional.
After several years as a wedding planner, I’ve seen it all—including men who have no business getting married.
“You can’t go wrong with Layered. They’re the best in town for sure.”
Matt checks his watch, and I don’t miss the twitch in his hardened jaw, though Jenna’s too busy mooning over him to notice.
“Baby, let’s get going. I have that thing I need to get to.”
My face involuntarily scrunches hearing “bee bee” again while Jenna’s shoulders fall.
We were supposed to grab apps and drinks across the street. Either Matt has conveniently forgotten or he’s blatantly going against our plans.
Instead of bringing it up and making things awkward, I tell them both goodbye and give her a reassuring smile before we part ways.
The change in plans actually works better for my schedule.At the end of last year’s wedding season, my trusted intern-turned-assistant, Bella, decided it was time to venture out on her own—which I fully supported—but the result has been a gaping hole, nearly impossible to fill.Bella ran all the administrative tasks, freeing me up to spend more time on designs and tending to my couples needs. I ended up hiringthree interns to fill her role and it’s been rough, to say the least. One of them—Faith, didn’t even know how to use Word. I assumed they taught that in school.
In an attempt to get a handle on their lack of skills before my schedule gets out of hand, I put together a training packet and will be meeting with them later to go through it. I can’t have interns who make my job harder once the season gets busy. But before that, I have a linen order to pickup for a micro wedding next week, a meeting with a seamstress because she made one of my bride’s cry, and somehow I have to pick up my niece, Lily, from ballet and squeeze in grocery shopping.
With my mom recovering from a partial hysterectomy, I’ve taken it upon myself to shoulder some of the weight. My plan is to stock my parents’ freezer with meals that will make life just a little bit easier while she heals—one less thing for them to worry about in the midst of it all.
In between everything, the day moves at a steady pace. The linen order was packaged and ready for pickup, the seamstress meeting went far more smoothly than expected, and I made it to ballet class right on time. With a few minutes to spare, I even swung by Novel Teas and Coffee—my sister Ariana’s shop—to grab drinks for Lily and me. Since Lily’s only six, her “coffee” was a hot chocolate, but I love making her feel like one of the girls. My brother Gavin, her dad, is raising her solo, so I take every chance to be the cool aunt. After dropping her off at home, happily sugared up, I hightailed it back to town.
Just as I’m about to pull into the parking lot of Harvest Grocers, red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. I keep driving, missing the turn in my distraction, even though there’s no way they’re for me. Continuing to drive, my eyes flick to the mirror, expecting to see the cruiser moving around me. It’s not, it’s still right on my tail.
You’re fucking kidding me.
The siren goes off and I let out a long exhale as I pull over.
Please don’t be who I think it is.
My gaze rolls up toward the sky, begging in silent prayer that I’m being pulled over by literally anyone else. I wasn’t even speeding and have no idea what’s warranted me getting pulled over.
A thrum jumps in my neck as I wait with a held breath to see who’s going to exit the patrol SUV.
Please. Please. Please.
The door swings open slowly before someone steps out. I desperately want to whip my head around to get a better look but force my eyes to remain trained on the rearview mirror instead. Unfortunately, what I manage to make out is confirmation enough. Olive skin, corded arms covered in tattoos, and that familiar, cocky walk.
Fuck me.
I steal a quick glance at my reflection, making sure my lipstick is in place and there’s nothing in my teeth. I won’t give him the upper hand, not even in something as trivial as my appearance.
His shadow looms over me as he waits for me to roll down my window.
With a few deep breaths, my disinterested expression is firmly in place and ready to face him.
