Page 105 of Bound To Be Mine

“How do you not lose your mind?”

She thought about it seriously. “Because underneath all of it, someone is getting married. They want the day to be perfect. I like that they are both so invested in making the day special.” She shrugged. “I can work with chaos. Chaos means it matters to them. As long as there is a method to the madness, I can overlook the crazy demands. To a point. But it does require a lot of hand holding. My job is to take the stress off the bride’s shoulders, and if that means I have to deal with her neurotic future husband, so be it. That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying her across the table. “Tell me more about these groomzillas. I need to understand what I’m up against if we ever renew our vows.”

She pointed her fork at me. “Don’t even joke about that. One Vegas wedding was enough.”

“Come on. Humor me. What’s the worst one you’ve had?”

She took a sip of wine, considering. “Okay, so about a year ago, I had this groom who decided, two days before the wedding, that he needed to choreograph a flash mob for the reception.”

“That doesn’t sound terrible.”

“He wanted to choreograph it himself. He had never danced before in his life. He insisted on teaching thirty people—including both sets of elderly grandparents—a routine to Thriller. In forty-eight hours.”

I nearly choked on my wine. “You’re lying.”

“I swear on my life. He sent me a video of himself doing the routine in his living room. It was—” She paused, searching for words. “Creative. Very unique.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him it was a wonderful idea and that I’d help coordinate it. Then I quietly hired a professional flash mob company, had them learn a simplified version of what he wanted, and positioned them strategically throughout the crowd so they could guide everyone else. He thought he’d taught them all himself.”

“That’s genius.”

“That’s survival.” She speared a piece of carrot. “Then there was the groom who wanted to arrive at his wedding on a horse. Not unusual, right? Except the wedding was on the twenty-third floor of a hotel. In downtown LA.”

“And he wanted a horse?”

“Exactly. I spent two hours explaining the hotel would never allow a horse in an elevator. There were weight limits. He finally agreed to leave the reception on a horse with everyone in the parking lot to watch him ride off on his mighty steed.”

“Damn.”

“I have dozens of stories. One groom insisted on wearing light-up sneakers under his tuxedo. The one who tried to surprise his bride by hiring her ex-boyfriend to play guitar during the ceremony.”

“Please tell me you stopped that one.”

“I did. That was a hard no.”

“No wonder you can afford a house in the Hollywood Hills. You can charge whatever you want.”

She grinned. “I do okay. Though honestly, most of my clients are lovely. It’s just the memorable ones that make for good stories.”

We finished eating, and I helped her clear the table. She tried to do the dishes, but I stopped her.

She disappeared into my room to pack while I loaded the dishwasher and put away leftovers. I didn’t want her to leave. But I understood she had to.

When I finished in the kitchen, I found her in my bedroom, standing by her open suitcase on the bed. She was just staring at it, not actually packing anything.

“Need help?” I asked from the doorway.

She turned to look at me. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to go either.”

“Then why does it feel like we’re saying goodbye?”

I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms. “It’s not.”