Rumors: Angela & Tyler

by Rachael Brownell

  My phone goes dark waiting for her reply. What feels like hours is actually only about five minutes. When she finally replies, I stare at my phone for a good ten minutes trying to decide how to answer her.

  ANG: We can either get married April 1st this year or April 28th next year. Otherwise, they're booked solid. What do you think?

  April 28th is my mom's birthday. I doubt she'd be upset if we were to get married on her birthday, but the more I think about it, the less I want to wait to marry Ang. There's no reason to. We've waited this long already. I love seeing my ring on her finger and I can't wait to call her mine for the rest of my life.

  ME: April 1st sounds good to me. What do you think?

  ANG: I was hoping you might say that. It's really soon, but it beats waiting fifteen more months.

  ME: Book it. Call Emerson and let her know so you can start making more plans.

  ANG: I love you, Tyler Dixon. I don't know what I did to get this lucky, but I have a few ideas of how I'd like to thank you later tonight.

  ME: Don't tease me, woman.

  ANG: Who said I was teasing? Love you. TTYL

  Just as I'm about to dive back into work, I hear Emerson shriek from down the hall. I'm guessing Ang called her and gave her the good news.

  "So tell me more about the venue," I say as I plop down on the couch next to Ang.

  She looks exhausted. After a long night of drinking with the girls, I knew she would be. I'm not sure how she lasted the entire day to begin with.

  Her 'bride book' is in her lap, more torn out pages lie next to her.

  Ang flips a few pages and points to a picture that looks like it's been cut out of a magazine. Above it, written in hot pink sparkly ink, are the words 'THIS PLACE' with two arrows pointing at the picture.

  "I found that garden a long time ago and knew that was where I wanted to get married. Being there today, learning all it had to offer, only reaffirmed what I already knew. It's even better than I imagined. You'll have to come with me next time so you can see for yourself. It's amazing, and it's going to be a beautiful wedding."

  "I have no doubt," I reply, sliding the book off her lap and onto the floor. Pulling her close, I whisper in her ear. "Speaking of the venue, I believe you promised me something earlier."

  "Oh yeah. What's that?"

  Her voice catches in her throat. She knows what I'm talking about. Her memory is better than mine. Down to the smallest detail, Ang doesn't forget anything.

  "Something about thanking me."

  "Oh!" I roll my eyes when she pretends to remember. "I was teasing you, remember?"

  "My ass, woman," I growl, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her so she straddles me.

  "It's a mighty fine ass, Mr. Dixon."

  "Not as fine as yours, Mrs. Dixon."

  "Can't call me that yet, babe. We've still got a few months." Ang slides forward, grinds her hips and elicits a moan from the back of my throat.

  Thank fuck she wanted to get married this year and not wait. Putting that ring on her finger claimed her as mine. Marrying her... that's my way of claiming her forever.

  Call me a caveman. I'll proudly beat my chest when it comes to my woman.

  She's mine.

  She has been since the moment our eyes met.

  She'll be mine for the rest of my life.

  Angela is my soulmate. My perfect match. She was created for me and me alone.

  As she grinds against me, painfully slow, moving in small circles, I relax my head against the back of the couch and picture what our future holds.

  Chapter Ten

  Angela

  I've dreamt of this day since I was a little girl.

  Before the invention of Pinterest, I kept a scrapbook of ideas. It's filled with lists and pictures for inspiration. Clippings from magazines and DIY projects to save money.

  Most of my ideas are outdated.

  Hot pink everything? Nope.

  Poof-sleeves on bridesmaids’ dresses? Double nope.

  Almost every detail in my ‘bride book’ as I liked to call it is useless. There are a few things I plan to consider. First and foremost, my venue.

  When I was a teenager, my mother and I went shopping downtown. As we were walking from store to store, browsing the window displays, church bells sounded in the distance. My mother, being a huge fan of weddings, took my hand and we walked three blocks in an attempt to get a glimpse of the bride and groom.

  We may have missed them, but the trip wasn't for nothing. We ended up standing outside a private garden. There was a party in full swing, and I stood there, watching in awe.

  There had to be at least two hundred people inside the garden dressed in their Sunday best, even though it was Saturday afternoon. Waiters walked around with silver trays offering food and beverages to the guests. There were tall tables spread throughout the garden, wicker seating areas, and a gorgeous fountain in the middle. Roses bloomed everywhere, in a variety of colors.

  As soon as we got home that day, I wrote every detail in my bride book.

  It was my dream.

  I could see myself getting married there.

  Walking down a, at the time, hot pink runner. The flower girl tossing white rose petals in front of me. My father's arm linked with mine. Hundreds of guests standing and watching as I slowly made my way toward the man of my dreams, toward my future.

  That garden is still a part of my dream wedding.

  Standing in front of those gates again, waiting for the owner to arrive, I stare through the wrought iron fencing at the barren landscape. It looks different than I remember, probably because we’re in the heart of winter.

  "Ms. Walker," a small female voice says from behind me.

  When I turn, I'm surprised to find a woman in her late sixties clutching a cane as she makes her way to where I'm standing.

  "You must be Mrs. Krump," I say, meeting her halfway and extending my hand.

  "It's nice to meet you. I was surprised you wanted to look at the garden today. It's not as beautiful this time of year," she says, producing a key and unlocking the gate. "Most brides want to wait until the spring so they can get a better idea of what to expect."

  "I'm not most brides," I begin. "I've seen this place before when the air smelled of spring and the roses were in full bloom. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen."

  "Shall we go inside and talk, then?" she asks, leading me through a maze of shrubs and empty flower beds to an elegant little house on the back of the property.

  The house isn't visible from the road. I never would have known it was here if she hasn't led the way. The house itself is a classic masterpiece from the outside. It has charm and character. Built probably in the late forties or fifties, it reminds me of Tyler's house. Historic. There's a large porch that stretches the length of the house, wrapping around the left side. Two antique rocking chairs adorn the porch to the left of the door. A white-washed swing hangs to the right of the door.

  When she unlocks the front double-doors and pushes them open, my jaw hits the floor.

  "This is where we host if Mother Nature decides to give us any issues," she explains, waving her cane around. "She's a fickle woman, I tell ya. The house will hold up to two hundred guests if it has to. We recommend keeping the guest list closer to one hundred fifty if possible. It tends to get crowded otherwise."

  I'm standing in a large open room. Vaulted ceilings. Hardwood floors glisten beneath me and stretch in every direction. There's a staircase on the far-left wall that leads to a landing that overlooks the room. I can see three closed doors off the landing. I want to explore, but I don't get a chance.

  "This way," she says, drawing my attention away from the landing.

  To my right, there are a set of double doors being propped open by two folding chairs. Following Mrs. Krump, we enter the kitchen and my jaw drops a little more. It's large and modern. It's a chef's kitchen. Every surface is stainless steel and shines.

  "We have a catering team, but you
're welcome to hire your own if you choose. They'll have access to the kitchen as early as necessary the day of the wedding. The only expectation is that they leave the kitchen in the same condition they found it. There is a separate deposit if you bring in your own catering team. It's fully refundable as long as the kitchen looks like this after they leave."

  Walking back into the main room, Mrs. Krump continues. "There are bathrooms under the staircase. And upstairs there are three bridal suites. One for you and the bridal party, one for the groom and his party, and one parents and other members of the wedding party."

  She takes the stairs much too slowly. I'm ready to rush past her, but I hold back. I'm sure she's given this same tour to other brides, and I'd hate to appear rude.

  Showing me each of the rooms, I'm surprised to find so many amenities. Each suite has its own refrigerator, private bathroom, television, and seating area. Two of the suites have a wall-length table with mirror above it, perfect for the girls and I to put our makeup on.

  At the end of the hall, tucked in the corner, is another seating area.

  "You may not be able to see the groom before the wedding, but this is a nice area for him to relax and spend some time with family and friends before the ceremony. I find that a lot of grooms get antsy and keeping them in a room, hidden away, makes it worse."

  Tyler. Antsy. I can't see it, but then again, marriage is a big deal. His normal laid-back attitude might be overshadowed on our wedding day by anticipation and excitement.

  "It's perfect," I whisper, taking in the simple room with tears in my eyes.

  "I'm so glad you like it. There is a private garden out back for pictures after the ceremony. We provide all the chairs and tables as well as a stage for the band or DJ. We have a variety of linen colors, but you are welcome to purchase your own or rent from somewhere else."

  Walking toward the window, I take in the view of the back garden. I picture it in full bloom, Tyler and I posing for pictures amongst the rose bushes.

  Perfect doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about this place. I knew when I found this place years ago that it would be where I would get married. It's a vision I've held onto all this time and never let go of. Now... well, it's even better than I imagined.

  "Why don't we head down to my office and talk numbers."

  Nodding, I pull out my phone and text Tyler. Quickly pulling up the website, I download a few pictures of the garden in full bloom so he can envision it along with me.

  ME: It's PERFECT!

  ME: We have to get married here. What do you think?

  As I take a seat across from Mrs. Krump, we talk details. As far as contracting out, I'd rather have one place to deal with, so I agree to utilize their services for everything they offer. I've already found a photographer that I like and have a few leads on cakes. After the details are settled, her printer jumps to life and she hands me an itemized list of everything we agreed on, along with prices. At the very bottom, the down payment amount stares at me.

  Even the small percent up-front scares me.

  Expensive.

  Way more than I wanted to pay.

  "Don't let the cost scare you, Ms. Walker—"

  "Please, call me Angela."

  "Well, Angela, I assure you that number is small in comparison to other venues. Even if you were to use the venue and contract out for other services, you'd be paying more. We do everything we can to make sure you have an amazing day without any added stress. I'm here the entire day, coordinating, taking care of the smallest details to make sure it's perfect."

  My phone chimes in my lap. Tyler. He likes the venue.

  "I'm sorry. It's my boy— It's my fiancé," I say, correcting myself. "I just need to check with him."

  Quickly typing out a reply, I wait to see what he thinks.

  ME: Really? I'm still here. Can I put down a deposit? Are you okay with that? If not, I can come back later. It's kind of expensive, but there's so many amazing extras that we wouldn't get anywhere else, and it includes catering.

  TYLER: No, go for it. Use my credit card. I don't care what it costs as long as it makes you happy. Wait, don't we need a date?

  Of course, for him, it's not about money. It's about making me happy. I swear that man is still after my heart even though it's already his.

  "What does he think?" she finally asks.

  "He asked about a date."

  "That's our next order of business. What time of year were you thinking? I have one weekend at the end of this coming summer. Mid August. Or I have one next spring, late April."

  "I've always wanted a spring wedding when everything is blooming."

  "April 28th next year sound good to you?"

  "Next year."

  "That's the only spring date I have. Unless," she says, pausing as she shuffles papers around on her desk. "I normally open the garden the second weekend of April. If you think you can pull it all together in time, I'd be willing to open a weekend early and you could get married April 1st."

  April Fool’s Day.

  Not that it matters, but it makes me chuckle.

  "Let me ask. I know what I want, and I can make it happen in time, but we hadn't really talked about a date yet. We've only been engaged for a few months."

  "You're moving quickly, my dear. You don't have to decide anything right now. You can always think about it and get back to me. I hate to say it, but we do book up rather quick. Next April is only available because the woman who was hosting a birthday party for her grandmother canceled last week. Her grandmother passed away suddenly."

  Well, that makes me not want that date. I'll think about her dead grandmother all day.

  ME: We can either get married April 1st this year or April 28th next year. Otherwise, they're booked solid. What do you think?

  ME: April 1st sounds good to me. What do you think?

  ANG: I was hoping you might say that. It's really soon, but it beats waiting fifteen more months.

  ME: Book it. Call Emerson and let her know so you can start making more plans.

  ANG: I love you, Tyler Dixon. I don't know what I did to get this lucky, but I have a few ideas of how I'd like to thank you later tonight.

  ME: Don't tease me, woman.

  ANG: Who said I was teasing? Love you. TTYL

  "Judging by the smile on your face, he's okay with whatever you choose."

  Nodding, I sign the contract in front of me, cringing at the numbers again, before handing it back to Mrs. Krump along with Tyler's credit card.

  As soon as the house and garden are locked up, we go our separate ways, scheduling a follow-up meeting in a few weeks. I now have less than three months to plan my wedding.

  Panic and excitement course through me, my heart pounding in my chest, as I start my car and head back to the house. Time to call my maid of honor and give her the good news.

  "Hey! How was the garden? Did you like it?" Emerson begins rambling the second she answers.

  "It's perfect. We booked it."

  "Really? That's great, Ang. What do you need me to do?" she asks. I can see her now, bouncing up and down in anticipation. I also see the moment realization hits her. "Wait. You set a date?"

  There she is. My best friend. The one person in this world that I can have a conversation with and not say a word.

  "Yep."

  "When?"

  "April 1st."

  "You always said you wanted a spring wedding. So what can we do right now? Anything?"

  She's not putting two and two together.

  "We have two and a half months, Emerson. I'm thinking dress shopping is our top priority."

  I'm met with stunned silence. Then a squeal of excitement, Emerson apologizing to someone, and then she's back.

  "Okay. This weekend. I'll let the girls know."

  "The girls?"

  "You know, your sister, your mom. They'll want to be there."

  Of course they will. And I'm sure they'll be a lot of help. I'm sure they won't drive me crazy at
all.

  "Why can't it be just the two of us?"

  "You know why. Don't let this kill your mood. It's a great day, Ang. You're getting married."

  Wedding planning, dress shopping... it's supposed to be fun. I love my mom and my sister, I really do, but when the three of us are in a room together, the fun tends to get sucked out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday.

  What should be an uneventful afternoon is a clusterfuck. Justine and Emerson were out of the office all day and Macie was struggling. Every time I turned around, I was fixing something and not making any progress in the process.

  It's been more than a month.

  She should have this shit down by now. I thought about firing her. Twice. I probably would have if I thought it would make my life any easier.

  Instead, I snag my phone off my desk and prepare to vent to Ryder. He's seen her in action the last few weeks and knows my pain. He left the office over an hour ago, done for the week, yet here I sit, still working on a Friday night.

  ME: Macie's killing me today. I need to let off some steam.

  RYDER: Wanna go to the dome and smack some balls?

  Any other day, I'd give Ryder shit for his choice of words. Not today.

  After the day, or rather the week from hell, I'd give anything to smack some balls right now, no pun intended. I'm ready to take my golf clubs to almost anything.

  Golf balls will have to do unless I want to get arrested.

  ME: Meet you there in twenty.

  When I moved to California for college, I made fun of the people who played golf inside. It was hot, humid, and most of the time, uncomfortable as hell under the hot summer sun. But inside... really? It pissed me off they weren't grateful for the ability to play year round.

  In Chicago, you were lucky if you got the chance to play for seven or eight months of the year. Once the temperature dropped, the courses closed and didn't open again until the snow was fully melted. It's the same here in Michigan.