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So why does this Blowfish thing have me feeling off-kilter?
Whatever the case, nothing I can do about it now. I ignore the stomachache and go back to turning malt.
Scrape.
Whoosh.
Chapter Four
Milly
“All right.” I clap my hands. “Let’s get this done.”
Thea sets a stack of Elle Decor magazines on the table between us, along with some of my favorite British tabloids for good measure. Their coverage of the rich and famous, especially their weddings, is second to none.
“How long does this typically take?” Hadley, our intern, opens his notebook to a fresh page. “Knocking out the design elements of a wedding. I imagine it’s a challenge to keep it fresh after ten years.”
I grab the latest UK Hello! and page through it, stopping to admire Kitty Spencer’s fabulous Dolce & Gabbana wedding dresses. Apparently there were five of them, and they were all custom made for the Earl of Spencer’s daughter for her wedding to some billionaire old enough to be her dad.
“Not gonna lie, it can be a grind,” I reply, sighing. “But we always make it to the finish line. I’d usually give us a week to brainstorm, but for this wedding we have two days. Three at most.” Especially as a week has passed since our initial meeting with Reese and Nate. My employees and I have been busy nailing down the final details of a bitcoin billionaire’s wedding coming up the first weekend in December—invitations, guest count, menus, hair and makeup schedules for the increasingly massive bridal party—which hasn’t left time for much else.
Hadley’s eyebrows leap to the top of his forehead. “Wow.”
“Our timeline for this wedding is much, much shorter than we’re used to,” Thea explains. “Typically we have over a year to do our thing, but because the Nobles and Kingsleys scooped up a date that became available last minute thanks to a cancellation, we have less than six months to come up with something fabulous.”
My stomach twists at the name Kingsley. I’ve tried very hard not to think about Nate since our meeting a couple of days ago. How different he looked. How he’d done his level best not to let his dad ruin what was clearly a special day for Reese.
Thinking about him makes my chest hurt. I’m done hurting over him. He belongs to someone else now. Someone whom he adores and who adores him too.
“The tighter timeframe also means we’ll be a bit limited when it comes to some design elements,” Thea continues. “Not everything we select will be available, so we’ll adjust our plan as we go. Many of our vendors book up quickly.”
“Right,” Hadley says, scribbling away. “That makes sense. From what I gather, these days couples are willing to wait if it means booking their dream venue or band.”
I nod. “Exactly. Which means couples book those venues or bands years in advance. The terrace up at the Biltmore’s booked out two and a half years. The pickings will be slim at this point.”
“But you have a plan.”
“Of course I do. And my plan is to get shit done.” I set down the magazine and open my laptop. “Y’all ready?”
“Dear Lord, let us slay this day, Amen,” Thea replies.
“You two are like Batman and Robin, minus the latex nipples,” Hadley says. “I dig it.”
“I miss George Clooney,” Thea says.
Hadley glances wistfully out the windows that line one wall of my office. “Don’t we all. How much would y’all have paid to be a fly on the wall at that wedding?”
“I would’ve sold my soul to see George and Amal tie the knot,” I say.
Thea nods. “My firstborn at the very least. Apparently George was the life of the party at Harry and Meghan’s wedding too. He was seen spinning Kate around the dance floor of Frogmore House while a brass band played Sinatra.”
Hadley clutches his chest. “That’s so good it hurts.”
I smile. I can already tell Hadley is excellent: he asks lots of questions, pays attention to detail, and seems to have genuine passion for design, event planning, and most importantly, celebrity gossip. Reminds me of myself back in the day. I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and everything about my work was a thrill, especially this part—the design. I could get lost in fabric samples and floor plans for weeks. My creative well was seemingly bottomless.
But over the past couple of years, work’s become less of a thrill and more of a job. Granted, as my reputation grew, so did the budgets for the weddings I plan. The pressure to level up my game—to wow increasingly jaded crowds, land spots in big name magazines, and “brand” myself as one of the top names in the business—is real. I think that’s made it harder to fall into that juicy, creative space that fueled some of my best designs. These days, there’s just so much to consider. So many time-sensitive tasks on my to-do list on any given day.
