Every time I meet with a new bride and she gets all glassy-eyed and emotional when talking about marrying the man of her dreams, I can’t help but feel jealous—not because she has someone, but because she actually believes love will last. From my own personal experience, men are incapable of committing themselves to one woman forever, so why go through with the whole charade? It’s just the way the world works and I’ve learned to accept it. I can still find joy in arranging flowers for the big day, even if I think marriages themselves are a dead end.
It’s now almost two o’clock, which means I have to get going if I want to have enough time to set up before the ceremony starts at six thirty. I load the last of the flowers into my Honda Pilot and head toward Woodwind Hills, a fancy banquet hall on the other side of town.
When I arrive, the wedding planner directs me where to park and unload, and I spend the next four hours transforming the dining room and patio into a floral wonderland. Since the wedding has a vintage-modern theme, I went with a combination consisting mainly of white roses, light pink peonies, and purple lisianthus. I also added a bit of maidenhair fern and baby’s breath for a delicate, whimsical touch.
I step back to examine the archway. Set across four connecting wooden beams, I draped the flowers across the top and down the sides, adding the largest, boldest flowers to the left side, forming an asymmetrical focal point. As the center of the entire ceremony, I want to make sure it looks right. I adjust a few stems and then make my way back inside. I duck into the restroom to splash a little water on my face and attempt to tame my hair. After a few hours of work I’m pretty dirty and sweaty, so I try to make myself look at least a little presentable before delivering the bouquets and congratulating the bride, my last task before heading home. I pile my hair on top of my head and make my way upstairs.
I knock on the door of the bridal suite and am welcomed in by a group of expertly primped and overly perfumed bridesmaids. The air is so thick with hairspray I can barely breathe, but I keep my composure as I hand out each of the bouquets—to much oohing and ahhing—and then I am ushered over to the bride who tears up a little when she sees herself in the full length mirror, bouquet in hand, donning a beautiful beaded gown with her hair pinned up, a long lace veil trailing behind.
She really does look happy, and for a moment, I actually have the slightest glimmer of hope for girls like her. As much as I might not believe in true love, that doesn’t mean I want to shatter the illusion for my more optimistic clients. Who knows? Maybe one of them ends up truly getting their happily ever after.
Oh lord, I really have been hanging out with Kelley too long . . .
The mother of the bride air hugs me and I tell her that everything looks beautiful before I say my goodbyes to the rest of the party. I make my way back down the stairs where the banquet staff is buzzing around the room, making sure every last detail is set before the ceremony begins. As I pass by the window looking out over the patio, I can see guests are already starting to arrive. With all of the tuxedo-clad men and women wearing dazzling dresses, it looks more like some sort of red carpet event. I gather up the last of my tools and empty boxes when I notice one of the smaller centerpieces on a cocktail table outside has a few wilted stems drooping over the side. I glance down at my dirty jeans and t-shirt, then back out at the gathering crowd. Most of the guests are taking their seats further down the lawn by the archway, so I decide to make a quick dash outside before anybody notices me.
I exit the double doors leading out from the dining room where I walk quickly to the high-top table. I pluck the wilted stems from the gold vase and adjust the remaining flowers. I might think this whole fairy tale thing is ridiculous and just for show, but if I’m going to put my name and reputation on these flowers it’s the least I can do to make sure they’re perfect. I smooth down the black linen, make sure the vase is centered, and turn to make my way back inside, passing more guests as they make their way out to their seats.
I keep my head down, trying not to draw more attention to the fact I look like such a hot mess, but I catch a quick glimpse of a tall, extremely handsome man walking past with a gorgeous woman by his side. Something about the way he smiles at his girlfriend—or who I assume is his girlfriend—makes me do a double take and look back as they continue down the lawn. They obviously don’t notice me, and before I can stop myself, I think it must be nice to have someone look at you like that . . . like you’re the reason he’s so happy.
I realize I’m holding my breath as I stare at the stranger walking away for a moment longer.
I take a deep breath before shaking my head and turning back toward the doors.
You’re probably just reacting to a hot guy with a cute ass, Kins. Get a grip.
Hey, just because I’m not interested in a relationship with a man doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy admiring one . . .
When I get back inside, I grab the rest of my stuff, load it into the car, and head back home, spending the entire drive trying to shake the image of the man with the captivating smile out of my mind.
Lucas
“I look like a fucking penguin. This cummerbund is stupid.”
“Aw come on, Luc. I think you look cute.”
I go to punch my best friend, Ryan Blake, in the arm, but he ducks out of my reach. Stupid fucking tux.
“Who the hell wants a black tie wedding nowadays anyway?” I pull on my sleeves feeling oddly uncomfortable. I’m no stranger to wearing a tuxedo, but for some reason today it’s really irritating me.
I hear Ryan shuffle behind me. “Hey, I hear you, man. If I were to ever get married—which, by the way, we both know isn’t going to happen—but if I was, just give me a beach, a barbecue, and a babe and I’d be good to go.”
I fidget with my bow tie, trying to make it feel less restrictive. I feel bad for my buddy Sean, who’s marrying his long-time girl, Danielle. If I’m feeling this suffocated in my tux and I’m only a guest, I can only imagine how he’s feeling.
Ryan continues, “Look on the bright side—I’m sure there is at least one hot bridesmaid in particular who would be willing to help you out of that later.”
I see the reflection of Ryan’s smirk in the mirror, knowing damn good and well which bridesmaid he’s referring to. We’re standing in my bedroom, and I’m trying to prolong going to this thing. We haven’t really been close with Sean since we graduated from UMASS six years ago, but we still have mutual friends and his soon-to-be mother-in-law apparently invited anyone either of them ever said two words to. Something about this being the social event of the year or some bullshit. The only reason I agreed to go was to support an old friend.
Well, that, and the fact Ryan thought it would be funny if he put me down as his plus one.
I shoot Ry an unimpressed look as I untie my bowtie yet again and start over. “You know I’m not interested in her like that anymore.” I return my focus to the tie, hoping to convey the fact that this conversation is over.
Ryan stays quiet for a minute, jamming his hands in his pockets as he leans back against the wall, silently chewing a piece of gum. I think he’s going to drop it, but no such luck. “So are you pissy because you haven’t gotten laid in a while, or are you upset because part of you is thinking it could have been you and Chelsea standing up there today?”
I usually appreciate Ryan’s directness, but sometimes his straight-to-the-point attitude is a little unnerving . . . as well as eerily on point.
I continue to look in the mirror and adjust the tie one last time. “I haven’t gotten laid because it’s my choice. You know that, so don’t be a dick.” Once I finish, I turn to look at him. “And just because Chelsea wanted it, doesn’t mean it was right.”
Chelsea is a good friend of Danielle’s, and as such is one of her bridesmaids. Chelsea and I dated back when we graduated. We were together for five years and things were good. Comfortable. But then she started hinting that she wanted more of a commitment. I sort of let her believe we would get married, but ul
timately I didn’t see myself settling down. We split, but things ended pretty amicably. It’s been two years and we’re still friends. She even works for one of my clients. Ryan always warns me that she still thinks we’re going to end up together, and OK, maybe I am kind of an asshole for keeping her close. But she was a part of my life for so long that I can’t just cut her off. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made it clear that we’re only friends now, but she likes pretending we might still have a chance . . . and I guess I like knowing someone still cares about me. It’s fucked up, but it’s just how it is with us.
The real truth is that ever since my mom died when I was thirteen, I’ve never been able to get close to a girl. I watched how horrible it was for my dad to lose the love of his life and I vowed never to allow myself to go through that. When I met Chelsea I thought I could change, but turns out I only liked the company . . . having someone there for me when I needed or wanted it. Eventually it wasn’t fair to lead Chelsea on, so I ended it. I told her she deserved someone who can give her every part of him, which is the truth. I’m not that guy, but she thinks maybe someday I can be.
After we broke up, I slept with just about any woman who looked my way, trying to feel something, which obviously wasn’t the answer to my problems either. So for the past six months I’ve been trying to change. I’m not capable of love, but I’m also tired of the random, one-night stands.
Now if only I can find a girl who understands the meaning of casual, things would be perfect.
Ryan moves toward the door. “Hey, you’re preaching to the choir, brother. I can tell she’s not the one for you. I’m just waiting for you to cut her loose since she still looks at you like she’s picturing your white picket fence, golden retriever, and two point five kids. The sooner you shut that shit down for good, the better.”
Before I even get two words out, Ryan changes the subject as if nothing happened. “Now, if you’re done getting dressed, princess, we have a ball to attend.” He gestures to the door and holds out his elbow as if he’s really going to escort me. I grab my jacket from the bed and head past him, giving him a light shove on my way through.
He pretends to be offended. “Playing hard to get? Oh, I see. You’re not easy on a first date.” As I make my way to the door, I hear him call out, “I can respect that, but know I love the chase!”
I crack up and grab my keys. I know I’m lucky to have such a good friend. As much as he likes to bust my balls, Ryan will always look out for me. I can count on him to always have my back, and at least he will help keep me sane tonight.
We pull up to Woodwind Hills a short while later. As soon as we make our way out back we are immediately flanked by Tamra and Jennifer, old friends whom we haven’t seen since graduation. Tamra, who had a very brief fling with Ryan sophomore year, envelops him in a giant hug.
“OMG it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” Tamra squeals. Ryan looks uncomfortable as she holds on long enough to make it awkward. Finally, she releases him. “You HAVE to come sit next to me so we can catch up.”
She pulls him toward the rows of seating lined up further down the lawn, leaving me alone with Jennifer.
“Sorry about her.” Jennifer nods to where Tamra is still pulling a reluctant Ryan. “She’s just excited. She thinks this is some sort of reunion.” Jenn looks embarrassed for her friend.
“Don’t worry about it. Ry’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” We look over to see Tamra re-introducing Ryan to a group of former sorority girls, who all start hugging and patting him like he’s their new pet. He looks back at us and mouths the word “Help.” It takes a lot to rattle Ryan, but this has clearly thrown him off his game. I shrug at him, then grin at Jennifer before saying, “Maybe not,” which makes us both laugh.
Jenn and I were always pretty friendly, and are able to fall back into a comfortable conversation as we catch up.
“So, I hear you started some successful venture capital firm?” she asks as we continue walking toward the chairs. I nod and she adds, “What’s that like?”
I’m about to answer when a woman over to my left by the cocktail tables catches my attention.
Dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans with her brown hair pulled on top of her head in a haphazard—yet adorable—way, she seems pretty intent on making sure the flowers in the center of the table are perfect. The way she gently bites her bottom lip and is so completely focused mesmerizes me. Here I am, surrounded by tons of women who are all dolled up and wearing expensive dresses, yet I can’t take my eyes off this unassuming one. There’s something about her that is completely compelling. I can’t help but smile as I try to imagine more about her. What’s her name? Does she work here? What’s her favorite color?
I hear Jennifer say my name, and I realize I forgot to answer her question.
I continue to smile, directing my gaze at Jenn as an apology for zoning out. “Oh you know, it pays the bills. Plus being my own boss always has its perks.”
I try to stay engaged in our conversation, but glance back over to catch another look at the mystery girl. She’s no longer at the table. My gaze narrows just in time to see her walk a few steps before disappearing into the building.
Jennifer and I find a pair of seats next to Tamra and Ryan. I shake my head to snap myself out of whatever it was that just happened. Maybe it has been too long since I’ve gotten laid.
As I sit down next to Ryan, he leans over and whispers out of the side of his mouth, “Thanks for helping me out back there, asshole.”
I whisper back in my best baby voice, “What’s the matter? Did those big, scary girls hurt you?”
He elbows me before glancing around, making sure nobody is watching him. “When does the bar open?”
I chuckle. “Why? You don’t drink.”
“I know that, dipshit. But the sooner they get wasted,” he motions to the group of girls now waving at him, “the sooner I can get the hell out of here alive.”
I can’t help but crack up as we hear the string quartet strike the first few notes of Here Comes the Bride.
Kinsley
In the weeks following the Woodwind Hills wedding job I have more time to focus on fixing up the cottage. There have been a few minor issues—a squeaky door here and a stuck window there—but Eli has been extremely responsive and helpful in getting them fixed. The first couple of times I felt bad calling him. I mean, I can repair a window myself, right? How hard could it be? But he had insisted I notify him about any issue whatsoever, so I felt it was my duty as a responsible tenant to let him know.
I also get the sense he gives me a little more attention than a typical landlord would, but we both seem to enjoy the company. We’ve gotten to chatting a few times, and I find he really is as kind as he seems.
He is mostly retired, except for maintaining the couple investment properties he owns, and he likes to spend his free time fishing and building model airplanes. He loves to listen to Dean Martin, takes his coffee black, and his son calls him every day. I get the impression his wife passed away some time ago, but I’ve never felt right pressing for more details.
I’m expecting him any minute, as he called this morning to ask if he can stop by to check on the repairs. I hear a knock at the door so I close my laptop and jog to the front to greet him.
“Hey there, Kinsley. Just wanted to check the job those guys did on the window yesterday. It’s not giving you anymore trouble now, is it?”
“Hey, come on in. They did a great job and it’s perfect now.” We step into the front room and I motion toward the kitchen. “I can make some coffee if you’d like.”
He waves his hands out in front of him, politely declining. “Oh thanks so much for the offer, but I can’t stay long. I’m heading out on an extended vacation—a fishing trip I take every year with an old friend. I’ll be gone for a month so I wanted to leave you my son’s number. Lucas will be looking after things while I’m gone. I want you to be sure to call him if you need anything at all.”
He hands me a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled across it.
“OK, great. Thanks.” I accept the offered slip of paper. “I think things will settle down for me now and I won’t need much else for a while.” I notice I feel a little sad he’s leaving. Not that I’m dependent on him or anything, but there has been something nice about having the regular company of a father-like figure. Once or twice I found myself wondering what it would be like to grow up with a dad like Eli. Would things have turned out differently for me?
But those are things I prefer not to think about, so it’s probably best I won’t see him for a while.
“I’ll be back before you know it and I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the town as our newest, most successful business. I hate to leave at such a pivotal time, but the place is looking great and I know you’ll be in good hands.” He makes his way back to the door, but stops just as he reaches for the handle. “And don’t let Lucas fool you. The boy can be a bit of a wise-guy, but I promise he’ll take care of you.”
The way he says that last part makes my belly do a little somersault. Get it together, Kinsley. He means he’ll take care of the cottage.
“Hopefully I won’t need to bother him, but I can handle a wise-guy, don’t you worry.”
Eli lets out a small chuckle. “Oh I have no doubt you can handle him. In fact, I’m counting on it.” He winks before turning to let himself out.
I close the door behind him just as I hear my cell phone begin to ring. I hurry to the office and stick the scrap of paper with his son’s number on my desk before picking up the call.
“Kell, what’s up?” I say.
“So you are still alive. Good to know. Now I can call off the search party,” she quips.
“Yeah . . . sorry. I guess I have been MIA lately. I’ve just been really busy getting this place up and running.”
Crazy Beautiful (Crazy Beautiful #1) Page 2
