AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No mix-up,” Fruit-Bouquet said. “I have the order right here.”
Wine held up a tablet. “Same.”
I gave a tight chuckle. “I think you missed the dress.” Gestured down. “I’m the one person who has final say in what is and isn’t appropriate today.”
“And once we drop off our supplies and get a signature, we’ll leave you to that.” Wine pushed the tablet toward me.
I stepped back, but not before I caught a glimpse of a five-digit total. “How much wine is it?” I couldn’t hide my disbelief.
“It’s not the quantity, it’s the quality. For those people who believe in only getting married once.” Wine’s haughty retort and disdain oozed from him.
This was bullshit, and I was about point-seven-five seconds from flipping the fuck out. But that wouldn’t solve the problem. “There’s been a miscommunication.” I summoned myreasonable but unyieldingvoice. “These deliveries were supposed to be canceled, and I don’t have a place for either of you to put them.”
Up their asses, but this probably wasn’t their fault. One vendor who was supposed to have been canceled, maybe. But two? Gretch must’ve missed something in planning. “I’ll figure out a solution for you when I’m not about to live the biggest day of my life, but for now, I need to ask you to take your deliveries and go.”
“I have pounds of fruit that was cut specifically for you.” Fruit-Bouquet looked like he was trying to scowl me into submission.
Most days, it might work, but Easton would be furious if we had to eat this bill because I refused to back down. “Donate them. See if the hotel has another use for them.”
“Unacceptable.” Wine shoved the tablet at me again.
Nigel stepped forward. “There is a room full of guests from some of the wealthiest families in the valley in there, waiting to see this woman get married.”
Several of them weren’t on speaking terms with said families and had little influence in those circles, but I didn’t interrupt.
He pointed to Sonya. “The maid of honor owns a billion-dollar software company.” She was an investor. And one of their game writers, but details didn’t seem important right now. “Ms. Hammond can either give all of her guests your company names as the people who helped her make sure today was special, or as the people who tried to ruin it.”
I also wouldn’t point out how he defaulted to my maiden name.
Fruit-Bouquet looked ready to argue, but Wine shook his head. “We’ll work out details later. I’ll be in touch.” He walked away.
Fruit-Bouquet hesitated, then huffed and followed.
“Thank you.” My brain was about to explode from stress overload and it was taking more restraint than I thought I had left to not hug Nigel. “Seriously I can’t thank you enough.”
“He gets it. You’re grateful.” Carly wore a scowl. “What I want to know is, where’s Gretch? Why didn’t she do that just now, and how did this happen?”
I wanted to know those things too. “Let’s go find her.”
“Let’s take you back to finish getting ready.” Sonya grabbed my wrist.
I was too wound up for that. I needed answers. “If she’s still here, there aren’t a lot of places she could go.”
Carly pushed Nigel closer to me. “Make her go back to her dressing room. She listens to you. Sonya and I will go find the missing wedding planner.”
“Come on.” Nigel rested a hand at the small of my back.
I turned to wave to Lyn and Violet. “I’m sorry. Thank you,” I called before Nigel nudged me toward our destination.
Was it wrong that I loved his hand there? That I was walking through a hotel, in a wedding dress, wearing another man’s ring, and I never wanted Nigel to pull away? That I liked it so much I almost didn’t care who saw us?
It was very wrong. I was a horrible, bad person who should only have thoughts about my husband-to-be.
Speaking of… was that Easton’s voice, or was I hallucinating out of guilt and anxiety?
“You’re fucking filthy.” That was definitely him growling. “I love it.”
What the…? I turned toward the sound, and followed my ears toward grunts and more feminine gasps. It couldn’t be what it sounded like. My fiancé’s voice was not coming from the room emitting porn sounds. Impossible.
