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“Juniper!” Callie gushed, laughing. “But I’ll one-up you. I bet he has a lot of stamina.”
They both sat back and let the day settle over them. Nestled away from the cleaning crew already in full swing one could appreciate how the other one percent of humanity lived.
“Did you call the driver?”
“Should be here within ten,” Callie confirmed around another mouthful of what she liked to call liquid happiness. “And speaking of all this togetherness,” Callie crossed her legs, the gold of her dress sparkling in the soft light of the parlor and leaned over the arm of her chair nearest her own. “About your date tonight,” she whispered.
Juniper sprang up. “Oh crap, Callie! Eric! I totally spaced out. He’ll be so freaking disappointed. Again!”
“Chill, boss lady. I’ve gottcha you covered. I called to let him know you would be a half-hour late. He said not to worry. He’d wait for you at the restaurant.”
Eric. He worked the tall, dark, and dangerously handsome vibe like nobody’s business. With a degree in journalism and professional photography, Juniper found him interesting, why that didn’t translate to more was anyone’s guess.
Juniper had her doubts anything between them would stand the strain of the weeks he spent away on assignment, but after several work-related dinner dates, he whittled down her defenses. What could she say, candlelit dinners, dimples, and hardeverythingwere her weaknesses.
Long-distance relationships were notoriously flawed and for good reason, and tonight marked a month since their last face-to-face date. She only hoped she didn’t find out firsthand why.
Eric had a special way about him. Attentive and kind and dedicated to his work. She clucked her tongue, rolling that thought around in her head. Maybe too dedicated.
He made her feel comfortable and safe, and he loved to take her intooh my god, just one more orgasm territory, but what about the supposed butterflies in the stomach she’d heard about over and over from her girlfriends, clients, sisters? Sex butterflies didn’t count. Ever since her oldest sister got engaged a year back, Juniper longed to experience that kind of connection. The kind that left her breathless and with a constant glow with added sex butterflies.
Glowing sounded nice.
Maybe love felt different for everyone.
Who the hell knew? Just because she planned weddings for a living didn’t mean she understood all the aspects of relationships. Far from it! But one thing was for certain—change was in the air and it caused unwanted jitters to rush through her.
Plus, she had picture proof to back up her gut feeling.
While list checking, refining, and wrangling the last of the wedding details together, the morning before Callie had texted a snapshot of Eric in full-color ring shopping. Or at least that’s how it looked. Back in town only hours, he was spotted in a jewelry shop and not just any jewelry shop. He’d been looking over a black case she could only assume held rings from Los Angeles’ most desirable jewelry shop known for its unique cut gems and designs. A girl got ideas after seeing a thing like that.
“What if we have this all wrong?” Running a finger over the rim of her glass, she turned to Callie, worried.
“What if you don’t?” she countered with a devilish grin on her lips. “A man doesn’t window shop for rings, Jun. Your man has a plan and it's spelled PUT-A-RING-ON-IT!”
Juniper scrunched her nose with a laugh. Great, now that song would follow her all night.
Juniper held up her left hand and studied the as-of-yet empty ring finger.
While other young girls had been out competing in how many frogs they could catch versus the neighborhood boys, Juniper preferred the quiet retreat of her treehouse and the latest magazines on lavish weddings. Since the ripe age of ten, she could spot the difference between a Vera Wong masterpiece and a knockoff.
Her brothers loved to pick on and tease her as she planned lavish Barbie and Ken weddings.
She shifted her gaze to the sea of stars that peeked out from the bank of clouds rolling by.
Yes. She wasthatgirl. The one that dreamed about happily-ever-afters and believed everyone deserved true love. Even her dolls.
She’d planned enough weddings, worked with enough brides and grooms to know not everyone ended up with the perfect counterpart though. Flaws or glitches were to be expected.
That’s why she had a plan when it came to her love life. A list to be exact—a how to pick your perfect man list. A twelve-point list of what she wanted in a man. Her eight-ball, so to speak, in the murky unknowns of love.
“I can see it on your face, woman. You already compared him to your ‘perfect man list’ haven’t you?”
Juniper rolled her eyes at Callie’s accusation. “You asked the same question the other day.”
“And you didn’t answer.”
“If you must know, I’ve given him a solid eight out of twelve, so far.” She could tell her friend held no faith for her to ever marry either.
