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At the sink, I dab at my eyes and immediately regret not bringing my makeup bag to work. My mascara is holding strong, but the concealer under my eyes is nearly gone with all the wiping I’ve been doing.
My gaze lands on the decorative basket on the far side of the counter.
A smile tugs at my lips. Of course, the restroom of an event planning firm would be packed with all the essentials. After all, JLo’s Mary Fiore inThe Wedding Plannertaught us that a wedding planner is always prepared. It’s filled with anything and everything one might need. Medicine, hygiene products, hair necessities.
There’s no makeup, but I do snag a travel size set of mints and down half of them. Unlike the chamomile tea, I immediately feel the refreshing peppermint calming my stomach.
I take a minute to adjust my dress and smooth my hair. I don’t want to walk into the intern meeting looking disheveled.
My right hand falls to my watch, shifting it on my wrist. That’s when I notice the time.
Nine-thirty-two. My eyes bulge.
Shit!
I throw open the door and rush down the hall toward the intern office. As expected, it’s empty. Everyone else is at the meeting.
I want to cry. I want to run back to the restroom and throw up from the sheer panic of being late to the meeting. But instead, I race to my desk, grab my notebook and pen, then hurry out of the intern office. If I was worried about my appearance a moment ago, now I’m wishing I could get that time back. I’d rather look like a haggard mess than be late.
Right before I reach the staff lounge door, my feet slow and I take a breath. I pat my head where my hair is wild from my sprint, then enter. Ideally, I’m hoping I can sneak in and quickly take a seat, not draw attention to myself.
But...that’s not what happens.
The air shifts with my arrival and everyone in the room turns their head toward me.
It’s that dream where you show up at school and realize everyone is staring at you because you forgot to get dressed. I’m fully clothed, but from the wide-eyed stares, you’d think I was dressed in a full clown costume. The scary killer clown from that Stephen King book based on their horrified expressions.
With everyone’s attention on me, I’m compelled to speak.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I announce.
Marion’s eyes flash in my direction. Her mouth is open, telling me I’ve walked in mid-sentence. It’s the first time I’m seeing the legendary woman in person. I’m fearful that she’s going to hate me now, but I’m also internally fangirling over being in her presence. Marion is everything her weddings are known for; timeless beauty and elegance. She’s in her fifties, but looks like she’s a mature thirty. Wearing a lilac pantsuit with a simple Cartier necklace, her chestnut hair, cut short to accentuate her cheekbones, and her piercing gray eyes are a lot to take in.
“Please, sit down,” she says curtly.
Oh, right.
My eyes dance wildly around the room looking for an open seat until they land on June motioning to a seat by her.
“I didn’t know where you went,” June whispers as I slip between two chairs before finally making it to the seat.
“Restroom. Thanks for the seat,” I murmur back.
“Ms. Hart, is it?” Marion draws my attention again. Her brows lifted in question, her gray eyes studying me. “Not the best first impression.”
With my scolding, I swear the rest of the interns straighten an inch.
I suck in a breath, my hands gripping my notebook in my lap. Should I apologize? Fall to my knees and tell her it’ll never happen again? I stay silent, afraid to make my already impolite entrance worse.
A small smile forms on her lips.
“Let’s see.” She pulls a paper out of the stack on her lap. “Sophie Hart.Seventeenmagazine’s 2018 winner of the Perfect Prom Décor competition. Graduated from UNLV with honors in Hospitality and Event Planning. Minored in business. Worked three summers under Peyton Jacobs, head wedding coordinator at The Windsor Hotel, Las Vegas.”
There’s nothing more intimidating than having your boss and the woman you professionally aspire to be slowly peruse your portfolio while a room full of your peers waits silently. The only thing preventing me from hyperventilating is the fact that I was already offered the internship. I’m here, so I must belong.
“You’re lucky you already made a promising first impression with your portfolio, Ms. Hart.” She waves said portfolio in the air before tucking it at the bottom of the stack.
“Thank you. It won’t happen again. The tardiness, I mean.”
