Confessions
of a
Wedding Planner
Michelle Jo Quinn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Michelle Jo Quinn. All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of Michelle Jo Quinn.
Cover design: Lucy Rhodes, Render Compose
Cover image: Fotolia
ISBN Paperback 978-0-9951506-1-4
ISBN EBook 978-0-9951506-0-7
To Ethan and Violet,
I hope you never tire of fairy tales
and happily ever afters.
Acknowledgements
I’m grateful for everyone who’s been a part of this book, from its early life years ago as a short story, to the expansion on Wattpad, and now…
here, like this, a book with the prettiest cover.
To Joe, who knows what would happen
if I didn’t have your support and understanding,
and knowing when to buy me cake and coffee?
To Ethan and Violet,
thanks for being awesome children!
Thanks to my parents for showing me that there’s such a thing as true love, even after being married to that same
person after almost forty years!
Thanks to my sister who constantly gives me encouragements and who gets my humor,
and to my brother who’s brave enough
to live his own adventures.
A huge thanks to my entire family
for cheering me on.
Thanks to friends who like me, quirks and all—Cathy, Aline, Jenna, Brenda, and others.
Thanks to author friends who never let me feel alone even though the process of writing itself can be lonesome. Thanks to Trinity Hanrahan, Amie Stuart, JE Warren, Liz Madrid, Gabriela Cabezut, Michelle Hayes, Debbie Goelz, Fallon De Mornay, RK Close, Rebecca Sky, Elizabeth Roderick, Amanda Cheairs, Ysa Archangel, and many, many more for the chats and words of wisdom throughout this journey.
To Murielle, my life got easier because of you! Thanks for being the best PA
any author can ever have.
To Samatha Harris for giving this a thorough read and offering ideas to make it better,
you are wonderful, and I’m lucky
to have you as a Beta reader.
To the founders and staff of Wattpad for creating a platform where a writer like me can share thoughts and dreams to millions worldwide, thank you!
To thousands of readers and followers I have there, I’m always grateful for the support.
Thanks for swooning with me along the way!
A huge thanks to Lucy Rhodes of Render Compose for my gorgeous cover!
Many thanks to editors, Noel Varner, Dayna Hart and Elizabeth Roderick for helping me polish this book until it shines as brightly as the sun.
I can’t thank bloggers and promoters enough for spreading the word about me and my books.
And to you, readers, thank you for choosing my book out of millions of others.
You have no idea how much it means to me .
* * *
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O ne
The Groom
I was surrounded by perfection. Anyone else would wallow in it, but the minute flaws screamed at me. It was a hazard of my job. That, coupled with the nervous anxiety bubbling in me, I was a wreck.
My hand itched to reach over the table and adjust the crystal wine glass opposite me. It needed to move a half-centimeter to the left to meet the standard 45-degree angle. Don’t get me started with how the napkins were folded; I’d already dealt with those as soon as I sat down, and before I moved both plates closer to the edges of the table. I was proud of myself. I didn’t even take out my trusty measuring tape. As an event planner, I’d set thousands of table arrangements like these; I could do it blindfolded. After sipping on sparkling water, I placed the glass back on the table, and at the last second, fixed Jake’s wine glass to meet industry standards. There. I should be good for a few seconds before I could find something else amiss.
Above me, ornate gold and crystal chandeliers cast a glow in the atrium, bouncing off the towering pillars with gilded crowns. I’d never been here when the fog cleared and sun shone through the glass dome, but I could imagine how beautiful it would be. Closing my eyes, I thought of this scenery at night when the lights were dimmed to add romance to the air. A few feet away, a seasoned pianist played a light classical piece. A mixture of aromas permeated the air. It was a scene right out of a fairy tale. I breathed a heavy sigh as I opened my eyes.
I glanced at my watch. Jake was ten minutes late. There was nothing unusual there. Even on the first night we’d met, he’d been late to an event. In the coming weeks after, I’d realized that it was typical of him never to arrive on time. It was a hazard of his job, I supposed. Surgeons were often called away on emergencies and worked endless hours. The waiter came by to refill my water just as a whoosh of warm, fragrant air passed me by. Jake. God, he smelled so clean.
“Sorry I’m late.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Nica, you look amazing. Is that a new scarf?”
The scarf was a present from Jake. His last present to me, in fact. Why did I think he’d remember?
I fiddled with the soft silk. “No. It’s not new.” What was the point in telling him that it had come from him? I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So, what’s up?”
Jake and I hadn’t seen each other since we broke up. When he’d called me last week to invite me for lunch, I’d been too focused on how my heart exploded in my chest to ask him why.
He pressed a hand over his tie before settling across me. “Mom says hi. I told her I was going to see you today.” Interesting.
If it hadn’t been for his mother, Jake and I wouldn’t have met. She’d hired me at the last minute when her event planner blew up on her three weeks before the charity event she was planning. We’d worked a few more events together since, but that was mostly because I was dating her son. Now that Jake and I weren’t together, I’d had to keep my distance, which also meant that my business suffered.
“I’ll make sure to send her an email today.” Our waiter asked for his drink order, and Jake requested a bottle of champagne. For lunch for two people on a Tuesday? Something was up. “Are we celebrating?” My chest tightened. I kept my trembling hands under the table and plastered a sweet but nervous smile on my face.
Jake pinned me with his blue gaze. Gosh, I missed him. Drawn to the brightness in his eyes, I crossed my hands on the table and leaned forward, mesmerized by his dreamy look of adoration.
“Sandrine and I are getting married, and we’d like you to plan our wedding.” He reached across the table for my hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Nica, will you please say yes?"
In the midst of the opulent dining room, serenaded by romantic classical music, I heard the desperation in those words. I saw pleading blue eyes—eyes that I stared at and got lost in—eyes I'd woken up to, kissed, adored. He pouted with his full lips.
A crease appeared between his brows. His hand fought to warm the chill that had spread on my fingers. Jake — my Jake—had pleaded. I was so focused on that, on him, that I ignored the cracking of my already fragile heart. With both trepidation and thrill, my heart beat a mile a minute, my gaze swept over our interlaced fingers, and I nodded.
Jake jumped up with what I could only describe as pure elation, lunged on one knee and hugged me. "Thank you. Thank you, Nica."
And for that moment, in that tight hold, wrapped in warmth and heavenly scent I craved so much, my head swam in ecstasy and into a different future. The future where I was Mrs. Veronica Benjamin, loving wife of Dr. Jacob Benjamin, like I had imagined many times before.
I was dreaming of a simple church ceremony, vintage French laces, pink peonies and white lisianthus bouquets, and uttering the words 'I do' to the man of my dreams in front of our families and closest friends.
But I was ripped back into reality when he breathed out, "Sandrine will be so happy."
Jake released me, whipped out his cell phone, and dialed his fiancée's number.
Thoughts of my dream wedding collapsed. I clasped my hands on my chest, trying to prevent my pounding heart from breaking out of my ribcage. If I listened carefully, I would be able to hear the tearing of my heart muscles.
Jake broke my heart once again, and I just sat there and let him.
I remained silent when he spoke on the phone with his fiancée, a woman I’d never met. My fortitude cracked each time he told her he loved her.
“Madam.” The waiter returned with the chilled bottle Jake had requested and two champagne flutes. I gave him a polite smile, but underneath, I was drowning in tears.
“Champagne’s here. Yes, my dear, I will see you soon.” Jake rang off and pocketed his phone in his gray suit jacket. “She’s so happy.” Someone had to be. The waiter popped the cork and poured each of us bubblies. Jake picked up his glass, but before he could say anything, I chugged mine.
“Thirsty?” he asked, entertained.
“Yeah,” I replied, slamming the glass back down on the table. “You know…” Twisting around, I reached for my purse and stood. “I just remembered…I have to meet new clients for an event. A birthday or baptism or something,” I rambled.
“Oh, but we didn’t have lunch. Do you want to…”
“No!” I cut him off, raising a hand in front of me. My insides churned. I hadn’t been able to eat properly since I’d thought of this meeting. My wild imagination had got the best of me. No, we were not here to reconcile. He’d asked me here to plan his wedding. His wedding! Pain stabbed through my chest. If I didn’t leave now, I wouldn’t be able to stop the tears from flowing. I grabbed Jake’s hand and shook it, a little too aggressively. “We’ll talk soon,” I promised , and left.
* * *
To clear my head, I took a couple detours after leaving the restaurant. I wanted to feel a different kind of pain—other than the one wrenching my heart—a pain that made me hold my breath, and caused numbness i n my fingers and toes. After swerving a little too closely to a car beside me, I knew I had to stop somewhere. Parking the car on a sketchy street, memories of how Jake and I met invaded my mind.
We were inseparable for six wonderful months. I loved him, and he loved me. The night we met, Jake rescued me from an aging playboy aristocrat at a gallery event, which I’d planned and organized. Of course, I was used to advances from wealthy, ogling, men old enough to be my grandfather whenever we threw parties for the rich and famous. Most of them probably thought that being the event planner meant that I was also available for a quick romp in the coatroom. I wasn't , at least for them… but I thought about it the instant I met Jake.
A man three times my age had me trapped between a table and the nearest exit sign. From across the room, I caught Jake’s blue gaze as he entered the grand space. I might have sent out a desperate SOS with my eyes, because after speaking momentarily with Levi—a person I avoided like the plague and whom I learned, later on, was Jake’s best friend — he ’d walked straight to me.
“I'm so sorry I'm late, dear, traffic was horrendous,” he’d said in front of the aged ogler and butt-squeezer. Sparks flew all over the room when he grazed my cheek with his soft lips.
“No worries, babe. Glad you’re here now.” I hung my arms around his neck, giving him an admiring look.
We were convincing, and it worked. The geriatric Casanova waltzed off, no doubt looking for his next young wife.
Jake and I spent most of the night chatting whenever I could — I had to be professional and keep in mind that I was still working. At the end of the night, we were lip-locked in a cab heading to who m ever's apartment was closer.
He was such a beautiful man, inside and out. Following in his mother’s footsteps, Jake was a philanthropist, having been born into a wealthy family. He gave money unselfishly to each and every charity thrown at him. He was also the best lover I'd ever had — never selfish, always willing to give and give and give. Double sigh.
We spent every non-working moment together. Every time I woke up beside him, I stared at his beautiful face and wondered why he was with me, out of all the girls in San Francisco, why had he chosen me...up until three months ago…when he met Sandrine in a gala in Paris, the city of love. How could anyone compete with Paris and their exotic women?
When he’d returned from France, he was upbeat and upset at the same time. I had never seen him so happy and so distraught. He had confessed that he’d met someone else, and although I was an extremely beautiful and caring and intelligent (his words, not mine) woman, Sandrine was out of this world (my words, not his). Although he cared deeply for me, he hadn't fallen madly in love with me. But in one night, in a single moment, he had fallen for Sandrine.
Being the gentleman that he was, he didn't pursue their relationship further than a chit-chat the evening they’d met. He flew back the day after to talk to me and tell me about this woman who had swept him off his feet.
Knowing Jake, he’d told her about me and what I did for a living, and I was sure he had exaggerated my talents. She, probably as smart and glamorous as she was in my head, thought it would be fantastic to have me plan their very large and very expensive wedding. I, being the idiot that I was, had accepted, because, in the deep recesses of my mind, I hoped that Jake would see his mistake and find his way back to me.
The word ‘no’ glared desperately in my mind, but foolhardiness to have him back in my life had won out, even if it was on borrowed time.
* * *
As soon as I entered the kitschy office of Bliss Events, the business idea , which started a t one drunken night in college, Chase was on me.
"So, are you guys back together?" There was a little glimmer of hope in her eyes. Her hands were clasped, her breath held. She was a closet romantic, reserving the truth to the only person she was close to — me.
Chase had been an amazon fighter at one point in her life. She was tall, curvy, rough, and sexy at the same time. She stood six inches taller than me, and on teetering heels, almost double that. She also had a semi-permanent scowl on her face that scared off anybody who came near —men, women and children . We were college best friends.
And in two seconds, she would probably want to bitch slap me into oblivion.
I shook my head as I walked to my desk, dropping my purse on it, and slouched on my chair.
"What! What do you mean?" Chase stood in front of my desk, smacking both her hands on it.
"He asked... He's..." I couldn't even form the words properly. "He asked me to plan his wedding to Sandrine."
Chase let out a guffaw, which had Jewel and Mateo, the two people who comprised our small staff, turning their heads toward my small office. Once she managed to suppress yet another laugh, she said, wiping off tears from her eyes, "You're kidding. This is your idea of a joke."
I whispered, "No."
She clammed up, realizing that I wasn’t kidding. "Ah, shit." Chase slumped in the chair in fr
ont of me. I nodded in agreement. "So, what are you gonna do? Wait, you said no, right? C’mon, he's your ex, and she's the wildebeest who stole him from you. I mean, they haven't gone out for more than four months."
"Three." I corrected her, holding up my fingers.
"Three? Are you sure? Isn't that too short? That's gotta be too short. Three months?"
I sighed. "But that's Jake, when he's sure of something, he'll just go for it."
She scrunched up her face and straightened. "Well, I thought he was sure with you." She wasn’t Jake’s biggest fan, but she accepted that he made me happy. When he left, she picked up the pieces.
"Yeah." I sighed again, pressing my face onto my upturned hand. "I thought so too."
"What are you going to tell him? He would understand if you declined."
"Chase." I looked her straight in the eyes. "When have I ever said no to Jake?"
"Ah, shit," she muttered again.
Those six months that Jake and I were together, I had never said no to him, not even when he asked me to let him go the night he broke my heart.
Chase shook her head and mumbled something incoherent. When she looked back at me, she waved her hand in the air. “Get up.”
“What?”
“Get up!”
“Chase, not now.”
“Nica, please get the eff up.” I rolled my eyes but obeyed. “Turn around.”
“Chase—”
“Please, Nica.” She didn’t sound bossy, which was highly unusual for her, so I gave in. I turned on my heels. With the palms of her hands, she patted me from the nape of my neck to my lower back.
“What are you doing?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.
Chase sucked her lower lip between her teeth, and then let it out with a pop. “Checking for your backbone.”
I stepped away from her, pouting.
With her arms crossed, she cocked her head to one side and pinned me with a serious look. “I know you’re still in love with Jake. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said yes to his ridiculous request. That’s gotta be the only explanation since you clearly still have a backbone.”
Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1) Page 1
