Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  “It’s not that easy, Chase.”

  “Yes, it is. Say it with me…no.” She squeezed my lips together, making them form a small ‘o’. “No.”

  I slapped her hand away. “Stop. It’s complicated.”

  Chase seethed, and we had a stare down. I guessed she saw all sorts of emotions cross my face since she threw her hands up in the air in surrender. “Fine. But after this, you better grow that spine back.” She firmly grabbed my arms and shook me lightly. “You’re too nice for your own good sometimes. Next time you meet with that ass, make sure I’m around.”

  I nodded, but my fingers were crossed. This was just the beginning, and I wouldn’t put it past Jake to come up with something else that would surprise me or his future wife.

  Two

  The Bride

  For the next four days, I had more conversations with Sandrine over the phone than with my own mother. And that was saying a lot since my mother called me up every hour to tell me about the most mundane things in her life. I might seem like a pushover, taking over Jake's wedding plans, but in my head, I was not—I was simply being professional.

  I had a business to run. The commission I’d receive from this wedding could keep us afloat for a while. When Jake and I broke up, that effectively severed my connection with San Francisco’s elite community. While my heart wailed as I planned his wedding, I focused on the advantages this would bring to our small business. Yes, this sounded less insane than the fact that I would let Jake do just about anything he wanted with me.

  Chase had been supportive in her way, but every time the phone rang, and it was Sandrine calling, she huffed and stomped out of the room. Apart from that, she was my personal cheerleader.

  Jake would often visit me at the office, mostly to talk about Sandrine and their future . However, one day just dropped by to bring me tea and pastries from the bakery across the street. Okay fine, he got called in to work before we started talking about his wedding, but still...

  Finally, on the fifth day, I had the chance to meet Sandrine … but not before Chase pulled me back into my office, locked my door, sat me down on the loveseat, and told me her own plan. Her new, brilliant plan. I wasn't quick enough to take note that she was too happy, which usually translated into she wasn’t up to anything good.

  "You're going to steal him back." She held both my hands, her azure eyes squinting at me—a sign of ruthless determination.

  "Steal who back?" I knew whom she meant, but it was an audacious thought, not unusual for Chase, but completely out of left field for me.

  I was always the good girl, and she was the devil dressed in a designer black, form-fitting dress paired with sky-high stilettoes.

  Her head sagged, and she said, huffing in exasperation, "Jake. You have to steal him back." She trained her eyes back on me.

  I blinked at her. "Why would I do that?"

  "Because you're meant to be together. I know you still have feelings for him. And think about it...he asked you to plan his wedding. There are hundreds of wedding planners in the city, but He. Asked. You." She punctuated those three last words by pointing her finger at me. “Maybe he was self-sabotaging. How does he know that you won’t mess this up? Or, maybe he does want you to screw things up, so he can get away from this engagement. Maybe he got her knocked up and he doesn’t want the kid. What if it’s not even his?”

  I groaned, frustrated that I had to defend my ex-boyfriend’s honor to my best friend. "He asked me because he likes what I do. He's seen what I can do to the most ordinary events. And, it wasn't entirely his idea, it was Sandrine who told him to ask me." I blinked furiously, as though it would exaggerate my point, ignoring the last bit of Chase’s theory that Jake might have gotten Sandrine pregnant. My heart could only take one heartbreak at a time.

  Chase was such a great person to have on my side, and her mind was an excellent tool for the business. She had been my anchor when I was floundering on the ocean of self-doubt, and when my heart tore into pieces, she helped me glue it all together by keeping my mind busy with new projects (and loads of tequila shots).

  When Jake broke up with me to be with Sandrine, Chase stepped in and offered to hold my hair when I needed to throw up (after said tequila shots). She nursed me through the heartbreak, but she couldn't quite cleanse me of what I felt for Jake, though not for lack of trying. She had pushed man after man my way, hoping one of them would snag my attention. None of them was ever good enough. Not one of them ever came close to Jake's perfection.

  I might sound picky, but I was convinced that once I met the perfect guy, I just couldn't look elsewhere. I craved him like he was part of my soul, like my every breath depended on his presence, like every heartbeat only responded to his voice, his touch, his kiss.

  Through months of the late-night sobbing and ice-cream bingeing, I cursed the heart that was too quick to love a man, a trait I had inherited from my often love-sick mother.

  Chase adamantly shook her head. It was her way of telling me that I was being stubborn. If I continued the conversation, she would lay out a plan for me, which she most likely had been working on since I told her about Jake's engagement.

  I stood up in defiance; arms crossed over my chest. "I won't do it, Chase. You know why." She opened her mouth ready for a rebuttal. I held my hand up in front of me. "Stop. I don't want to hear it. I'm meeting with Sandrine in ten minutes. I just want your support. If not as my friend, then as the co-owner of this establishment."

  Grabbing my bag, I left, leaving her sulking in my office.

  * * *

  Of course, on my way to the restaurant to meet Sandrine, I kept hoping that she had a massive overbite, her teeth yellow from chain-smoking—as a true Frenchwoman, I'd imagine, would—and her hips and butt would be massive from eating calorie-filled French pastries, full-bodied wine and stinky cheese. But, when a statuesque goddess with perfect olive skin and a thick, wavy, healthy coif introduced herself to me and kissed both my cheeks, I berated myself for ever thinking those thoughts , and that a woman any different from the one seated before me would have attracted Jake in the first place.

  Picture an even more sexed-up Marion Cotil l ard with higher cheekbones, bigger, more expressive eyes with impossibly full lashes, thick eyebrows that only looked good on Europeans, pouty lips that any model would kill for, and throw in long, soft, graciously moving limbs on a body that didn't seem to have any fat on it whatsoever. She was perfect!

  Chase would hate her.

  "I'm so 'appy to meet you, Veronique." Her French accent was so distinct, sexy, and sultry that I couldn't even courageously correct her from saying my name wrong because it sounded right coming from her lips.

  "When Jacob told me that you were the best planner in the city, I knew I must 'ave you. And, like I said on the phone, money is no worry." She said his name like a caress. I groaned inwardly.

  She had mentioned many times over the phone that perfection was what she desired, and it didn't matter what the expense was. I had also learned that she was the only daughter of one of the richest couples in France. Not that she needed their money at all, since she was a doctor, and was doing very well, according to Jake.

  "Yes, I'm glad we finally get to meet. This wedding may be the biggest I’ve had to plan." My high-wattage smile was plastered on my face. Chase called it 'the joker smile', but it was the one I wore for every uncomfortable situation.

  Our waiter showed up and told us the specials. His attention was more focused on Sandrine than on me, even when it was my turn to tell him what I wanted to drink. I would have bristled, but he wouldn't have noticed.

  "' O w many weddings 'ave you done?" she asked when our waiter left.

  I counted in my head. Weddings were my favorite type of event we planned , but I hadn't done nearly as many as I wanted .

  "I'd say about fifty."

  "Ah, c'est bon!" Sandrine pressed two dainty fingers on her full lips. "So, you are an expert then."

  "Expert?" I chuckled. "N
ot at all. Well…maybe a little."

  "Mais, it is not important. Jacob thinks you are the best, and I believe 'im." Her smile flashed before me, and I was nearly incapacitated by the supremely white rows of pearls. So, no crooked, yellow teeth then. Darn!

  Once our waiter brought us our drinks and took our food orders (and stopped mentally undressing Sandrine), I pulled out my iPad from my bag to show her what ideas I had so far. She had no real inclinations toward a specific location or theme, except that it had to be larger-than-life, a real show-stopper. I couldn’t help but wonder how Jake felt about it. When our relationship had become serious, I had imagined a beautiful wedding, but nothing grandiose. He wasn’t that type of man. He wasn’t a show-off…unless being with Sandrine had changed his ideals.

  One important factor did matter, so I asked. "Before I forget, have you decided on a date?"

  "Oui!" She perked up, clasping her hands together. I was momentarily blinded by the 5-karat emerald-cut engagement ring on her dainty finger. My knees weakened, my jaw dropped, and I almost spat out my drink. "The twenty-fourth of August," she announced with extra flourish, flicking her hand in the air.

  I gaped at her. "That's a month from now." I scrambled to get into my calendar on the iPad, barely noticing the waiter returning with a bread basket.

  For some reason, that was the only Saturday that I had no events to organize. I had plenty before and after, but not on that day. The wedding gods must be smiling down on this woman. But still... "That's in a month!" I said again.

  "Oh? Is it too far away? Shall I move it closer, you think?" Her head cocked to one side, eyes as wide as Bambi’s caught in headlights. She had no idea.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I composed myself before I pulled her into the reality that I lived in. That everybody else lived in.

  "Sandrine..." I started, just as the waiter came with our meals. I had to shoo him away before he could say anything else, an action that gained me an evil look. "Sandrine, a month is too short to plan what you have in mind. We are talking four hundred guests, at the very least. Even if you have the money, it is nearly impossible to..."

  "But I..." She stopped me with a hand raised. Then she brought that hand to her heart. "You 'ave only to tell me what it is you want, and I am sure that between Jacob, and you, and me, we can all do it. We can make it ‘appen." She fluttered her thick lashes. I waited for the trumpet sounds after her spiel. Nothing came.

  Going through the mental list of what was needed for a wedding as grand as hers made my head throb. I massaged my temples. Why the rush? Unless she was…I glanced at her fingers and checked for any sign of swelling around her sparkly engagement ring. No, Jake was too careful for that. He couldn’t have gotten her pregnant, could he?

  “Veronique?” Her voice pulled me back from my musings .

  I swiped my fingers on the iPad. "One of the locations..." I tapped on the screen and displayed my wedding ideas to show her again. "The country club just outside the city. Jake's country club..." I paused, remembering how he had once taken me to the exclusive Goldengate Club for lunch with his family, along with a round of golf, which I found out I was quite good at, and which, thankfully, bought me approval from his father. "His family have been members for years, and they might have enough influence for the club to allow you to have your wedding there with short notice. Provided nothing's booked that day."

  Morphing yet another gorgeous smile on her face, Sandrine stated, "Say no more." She reached out for my hand at the same time she speed-dialed someone on her phone.

  "Mon amour." Her words were silkier and sultrier than before that there was no mistaking she was talking to Jake. "Veronique said the country club would be perfect, but that the time is so short... Oui...Oui...ah, fantastique! I shall tell her. Je t'aime, Jacob." As she hung up the phone, she flashed me a sweet, confident grin.

  Trying to act clueless (or hopeful that she had another boyfriend), I couldn’t help but ask, "I gather that was Jake?" I took a bite of the salad in front of me to avoid gnawing at my own lips.

  Nodding her head, she said, "Oui. Yes. He said it is done."

  "What's done?" M y fork , speared with a cherry tomato, stopped midway to my mouth.

  "It is done," she repeated, making a gesture with her hand. "Jacob said that if the club is what we wanted, then it is what we shall get. ‘ e will call me as soon as he confirms it." She picked up some salad on her fork and appealingly ate it, like there wasn’t a wedding looming and she had all the time in the world to enjoy her meal

  Being in the event planning business, I’d experienced some miracles. Some so off-handedly impossible that I still couldn't believe that Chase and I had pulled them off. More often than not, mentioning a certain name with certain standing in the community paved the way to our goals, but it was not without hard work and persistence. And a promise of something in return.

  Sandrine's phone rang just two minutes after talking to Jake. He called back to tell her that he’d booked the club for their chosen wedding date . No questions asked. Though I had spent only a bit of time with Sandrine, with all her beauty and grace, I only felt pure jealousy when I realized that Jake would give her the moon if she had asked.

  I wondered if he would ever have done the same for me.

  Three

  The Best Man

  There were only a handful of people who m I couldn't stand the very second I met them. I was friends to many, and friendly to all, but when I met Levi my skin crawled.

  I recalled seeing him a few times before, during galas and charity balls and whatever posh events, always with a model du jour on his arm. I made darn sure we never crossed paths otherwise since the first time I met him. So, when Jake introduced him to me as his best friend, I almost lost my lunch.

  Sure, Levi was wickedly handsome, rich and a quasi-celebrity, but he was as slithery and slimy as the old geezers who would grope and proposition me. Whenever Jake and I attended or met at an event, I steered clear of Levi, even if it meant letting go of Jake's arm. The several times I couldn't quite escape, Levi's actions and words left me seething, and sometimes wishing that I had Chase's guts and quick wit to parry with.

  He would ogle every woman who passed us, even when he was with someone. Most of his dates couldn't offer a word of intelligence during conversations, often saying "like" at least five times in one drawn out sentence.

  Jake and I had agreed to meet at a café near my office. I just couldn't let myself be alone with him , not when I was planning his wedding, and especially not after meeting Sandrine

  "Levi's going to be here soon," Jake told me . I’d just sat down, but I stood up the second after his announcement. His hand pressed onto mine.

  Oh, how I missed his touch.

  "Wait, Nica. I know you can't stand him, but he's still my best friend and..." He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Uh-oh... "And my best man. With Sandrine away for most of the planning, I do need him to be here with me, with us." His ocean blue eyes darted to mine. "He promised to behave." This was his final plea.

  I thought about it for a moment, but to be honest, I was still enjoying his touch and his gaze on me. I sat back down with severity plastered on my face, which didn't mean much. Picture a docile Yorkie trying to act like an angered bull.

  I opted for pouty instead. "Fine, but one smart-butt comment from him, Jake, and I’ll..."

  "He won't. I promise. And if he does, I'll remove him. I'll even kick him out of the bridal party if he tries to say or do anything stupid around you." Jake's hand remained, enveloping mine with warmth.

  "Who's being stupid?" A baritone voice asked from behind me. Jake's hand flew away, leaving mine cold and bereft.

  Levi pulled a chair up between Jake and me, angling it my direction, and sat with his legs spread wide. I inched away to avoid any physical contact with him.

  "Veronica." He nodded my way, with a grin, wide and full of malice.

  I gnashed my teeth together, and raising an eyebrow at him, I s
imply said, "Levi." Then puckered my lips like I’d tasted something sour.

  Jake clapped his hands together once, trying to diffuse the tension . "Great. So, the team’s here. Why don’t we get some coffee and snacks," Jake happily suggested, motioning for a young server nearby. The kid with dreads came over and stood before us, ready with a pad and pen. "An espresso for me and a chocolate croissant.”

  "Make that two of the same," Levi interjected, raising the index and middle fingers of his left hand.

  Jake continued, "And a chai nonfat latte and cranberry scone, please, for the lady.” He smiled knowingly at me. He remembered. The kid nodded then left.

  "What? You don't drink coffee? It's not good enough for you?" Levi asked me. He was languidly seated with an arm hanging off the back of the chair like he was Mr. Oh-So-Cool.

  I glared at him, but before I could answer, Jake said, "Veronica doesn't drink coffee, except after drinking alcohol. Coffee makes her too bubbly."

  I smiled at him, recalling the many times I'd tried drinking coffee on a regular day, only to end up sounding like a mumbling idiot who couldn't stop giggling. Jake thought it was cute, of course. I wondered if he'd still think that.

  "Bubbly?" Levi's question pulled me out of my thoughts. "If you get any bubblier, you would be..."

  Before Levi could give his opinion, Jake jabbed him in the rib s with his elbow and shot him a warning look. After Levi's quiet protest, Jake turned his attention back to me.

  "I'm sorry again that you have to do this with me, with us guys." Jake gestured between them. "I know next to nothing about weddings, apart from what you’ve already told me, but Sandrine insisted I meet with you while she's away. She just has a few things to take care of back in France." How convenient.

  "No worries. I've been able to catch her on the phone a couple of times before she rescues the world from another disaster." I stopped, hoping that I didn't sound petty. Jake had a serene look on his face, which told me that he appreciated what Sandrine did. Levi, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and then focused on a girl sitting near us.