Nicole reached out to hug her. "Thanks, Ev. I'm relieved that you know the truth at last."
"How's your head?" Evette asked, changing the subject.
Nicole tentatively touched her head. "It's sore but still there," she joked. "I'm never drinking like that again. I'm such a lightweight; two glasses of wine and I'm done."
"I'm glad you had a good night," Evette smiled as she dished out the chicken curry onto two large dinner plates. "I hope you're hungry because I got us chocolate profiteroles for dessert."
"Yum, yum, my favourite." Nicole grabbed a fork and tucked into her dinner. "I didn't realise I was so hungry."
They ate in companionable silence while they devoured their dinner. The only noise was the sound of their knives and forks against their plates.
Nicole sat back on the couch and patted her round stomach. "I needed that, thanks sis."
"Me, too. What time is it?" Evette looked theatrically at her watch. "Oh, it's the best time of the day. Wine o' clock. Would you like a glass?"
"No thanks. I'm off the drink for a while, but you should help yourself."
"I don't mind if I do."
"How's everything going with Amanda's wedding?" Nicole asked as Evette snuggled into the opposite end of the couch, a large glass of red wine in her hand.
"Don't ask," Evette rolled her eyes. "The woman is a control freak. We're making slow progress, I suppose, all things considered, but she's such high maintenance. She's constantly texting and emailing me about the wedding. Her attitude was starting to do my head in so I had to have a little chat with her. She calmed down after our conversation." Evette smirked at the memory.
"Good," Nicole agreed. "There's nothing wrong with being assertive. We're here to provide a service, not to be walked all over."
"Exactly, Amanda's ok really. I guess it's understandable that she's such a control freak with six children to mother and a wedding to organise. I don't know how she does it."
"I hope you're keeping lists like I showed you."
Evette glanced at her sister disparagingly. "Of course I have every single detail typed up on a spreadsheet. I'd forget everything otherwise."
"What stage are you at in the planning?" Nicole asked.
Evette scrunched up her face in concentration. "We've obtained the wedding licence and the invitations have been posted."
"Did you include a map and accommodation suggestions for the guests?" Nicole interrupted.
"Yes. I also remembered to to send the gift wish-list with the invitations. We've arranged the seating plan and given the details to the hotel."
"She finally decided on a venue?"
"Yeah, we eventually shortlisted the venue down to three castles and after a million visits Amanda made her decision. The reception's being held at the Blarney Castle Hotel and Towers."
"Wow, I'm impressed. I'd say that'll cost a small fortune."
"Slightly, but then again, Kian has won the lottery as Amanda keeps telling everyone, so no money's no object for them."
"The venue will be plenty big enough. How many guests are invited?"
Evetted groaned. "I think Amanda's invited everyone in Ireland. The guest list at last count was three hundred people."
"It's a good thing she's getting married in a cathedral," Nicole chuckled. "No wonder you're stressed out. It must have been a nightmare to organise the venue."
"It's been stressful, but Diana Breslin, the hotel's wedding co-ordinator has been an angel. She's very professional but friendly at the same time. She's been absolutely worth her weight in gold. She talked me through all the hotel's wedding packages in detail and even provided me with a list of suppliers that are specially recommended by the hotel. Apparently some of the suppliers even offer a discounted hotel rate. Diana will be an amazing asset for me on the wedding day when I'm sure I'll be demented with stress."
"Have you organised the entertainment?"
"All sorted. They're having a string quartet for the main service. Amanda's chosen Mozart's Wedding March for her processional music and Beethoven's Ode to Joy will be the recessional music."
"She has good taste."
"Yes. I was quite surprised by her choices. Luckily, her eldest son is in a band and he'll be performing at their wedding reception, so that's one less thing to worry about."
"What did they choose for their first dance song?" Nicole asked.
““The First, the Last, my Everything,” by Barry White."
"Oh, that’s very sexy. I adore Barry White's music. His voice gives me tingles."
"Too much information!" Evette covered her ears in mock horror.
"Have you confirmed the order of service with the stationers?" Nicole asked.
"Done. The cake and floral designs have also been sorted and I've given an itinerary to the transport company and photographers."
"You're doing a brilliant job," Nicole beamed proudly at Evette.
"I know. I might have to start my own wedding planning agency and compete against you," Evette teased.
"We're better as a team."
"True. It's not long until William's wedding is it?"
"I know. I can't believe it's November first next week, so I only have about eight weeks to organise everything," Nicole sighed.
"How's it going with the plans?"
"It's been very easy, actually. William's organised most of it himself, to be honest. He's got the venue sorted, the entertainment booked and he's even taken care of the invitations."
"What have you actually done?"
"I've chosen the honeymoon and he's asked me to do him a huge favour but it makes me feel a little uncomfortable."
"What is it?" Evette was all ears.
"He's asked me to choose the wedding dress."
"What?" Evette exclaimed. "That's very peculiar. What bride would let someone else choose her wedding dress?"
"It's a surprise wedding, remember?" Nicole replied. "William and his girlfriend are returning to Ireland from New York for Christmas and he's going to ask her to marry him then. He wants to have everything organised for her. Apparently, she's been through a very stressful time this year and he doesn't want her to have to worry about organising a wedding."
"What if she says no to his proposal?" Evette asked.
Nicole gasped and clutched her face in horror."I never imagined her saying no!"
Evette shrugged. "It's not our problem. We're the wedding planners. Our responsibility is to arrange everything. I hope she agrees to marry him, for his sake, but we can't worry about it. We've got enough to do."
"Our suppliers won't be very impressed if we have to cancel the wedding arrangements at the last minute."
"Yet another headache," Evette flung herself back on the couch in exasperation.
"Let's just forget about it for now," Nicole sighed, "and cross our fingers that William's girlfriend says yes."
Chapter 19
"How do I look?" Nicole emerged from the changing room and twirled in front of Sarah.
"You look stunning, absolutely beautiful," Sarah smiled.
"The dress looks like it was made for you."
"It's made for Williams' bride," Nicole sighed. "Luckily we're the same shape and size; the classic hourglass figure and a size eight."
"It's the old Hollywood film star figure. You're blessed to have such a tiny waist and your hips, shoulders and chest are perfectly proportioned."
"I wouldn't mind a little extra in the chest department," Nicole stared at herself in the mirror.
"It's a gorgeous dress for you," Fiona, the sales assistant, interjected. "You're very fortunate that most bridal styles can be easily tailored to your body shape. Which would you like to emphasise most; bust, waist or curves?"
Nicole frowned in confusion. "I'm not sure. I don't have much of a bust, so I suppose it would be best to emphasise my waist."
"We recommend to our clients that if they want to emphasise their curves they should wear a bias cut or mermaid/fishtail dress. An empire
line style with embellishments around the waist such as a falling pattern from the bust to the hip will flatter the bust and will also draw attention to your tiny waist."
"I'm not sure. The choice is quite overwhelming."
"I'll be happy to bring you some examples of dresses in each style if you wish," Fiona offered.
"Yes, that would be great."
Fiona scuttled away to gather together some more dresses. Sarah took a photo of her friend in the wedding dress that she was already wearing. Nicole was going to try on lots of dresses and then email William her favourite choices later so that he could make the ultimate decision for his bride.
"Don't you feel a bit odd choosing someone else's dress?" Sarah asked.
"I did at first, but it's all part of the job. I'm enjoying myself, actually. Why don't you try on a dress too?"
"No, I don't believe in marriage," Sarah replied.
"You don't believe in marriage? Why not?" Nicole, a die-hard romantic, couldn't believe her ears.
"The idea of marriage has never appealed to me. I never understood why two people need to publicly declare their love to the world. Why can't they live together but retain their own identities? I'd hate to be missus somebody or other. No offence to anyone who decides to get married."
"I still believe in marriage, even after what happened to me," Nicole said quietly. "I like the fact that such an old-fashioned concept is still held in such high regard. What's wrong with declaring your love for each other to the world? The wedding day is a great party where everyone gets to share the love and happiness. I hope marriage never goes out of style. You don't have to lose your identity just because you're married. If anything, I think it makes the bond between a couple even stronger. Marriage shows dedication and commitment. Maybe it's old-fashioned of me, but I think that children feel more secure if their parents are married."
"Let's just agree to disagree," Sarah interrupted. "I can see this turning into another heated debate if we don't stop now."
Luckily, Fiona returned with an armful of dresses at just the right moment and the two friends spent the rest of the afternoon helping to create another woman's dream day.
Chapter 20
"Welcome, Nicole. Welcome, Paul." Dr. Davison offered her hand to them in a formal greeting. "Please, have a seat." She gestured towards the soft, black leather couch which was positioned in front of her armchair.
Nicole and Paul sat awkwardly a safe distance apart from each other. Nicole suddenly felt overcome with embarrassment. She had no idea what to say to Dr. Davison, their relationship counsellor and she wasn't relishing the prospect of having to discuss their relationship issues in detail. How excruciating can it be? she thought.
Dr. Davison was a rather large woman in her early fifties. She had a shock of snow-white hair which was piled high on top of her head and secured with a very ornate clip. Black-rimmed glasses framed her bright green eyes and a slick of red lipstick added some colour to her pale face. She wore a pristine, powder-blue trouser suit which cleverly flattered her voluptuous figure. She radiated warmth and kindness and tried her best to put Nicole and Paul at ease.
Dr. Davison leaned forward in her armchair, resting her hands on her knees. "I understand this is a very personal situation for both of you. What would you like to tell me?" she began, in her soft, lilting accent.
Nicole recognised it as a Galway accent. Galway was one of her favourite places and she found herself slowly beginning to relax at the doctor's gentle voice.
"Nicole and I have been going through a difficult patch in our relationship and we'd like to work it out," Paul replied, without hesitation.
"It's more than a difficult patch, Paul, wouldn't you say?" Nicole retorted. "Paul dumped me at the altar, Doctor." She came straight out with it.
Dr. Davison drew in a quick breath and looked from one to the other. "I see."
"Straight to the point, Nicole," Paul couldn't restrain the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Nicole wanted to reach across and smack him on the head but she managed to stop herself. Same old condescending Paul, she thought. "I'm not the one who cheated, Paul!" she shot back at him. Her face flushed with anger.
"We're not here to throw accusations at each other," Dr. Davison interrupted. "You're both here to try to make your relationship work. It's not going to be easy, but it is possible, with a lot of hard work, honesty and soul-searching on both your parts. Are you willing to put in the effort?" Nicole and Paul nodded mutely.
"Do you still love Paul?" Dr. Davison asked.
"Yes, I still love him," Nicole replied.
"Do you still love Nicole?"
"I love her more than anything or anyone in this world. The last few months without her have been a living hell for me."
"Great answers," Dr. Davison smiled at them. She turned to Nicole. "What does Paul need to do to have you give him another chance?"
"He needs to prove himself to me," she answered shortly.
"You know I love you, Nicole," Paul said plaintively.
"It's not as simple as that, Paul," Dr. Davison said. "A lot of the ideas and beliefs that Nicole held about your relationship have died. You will need to work hard to regain her trust and forgiveness."
"That's an understatement," Nicole couldn't help herself.
"Ok," Dr. Davison held her hands up.
"I want to spend some time with you both individually before I start working with the two of you together." "How long will this take?" Paul asked impatiently. "I don't understand why we can't start our counselling sessions together. We don't need individual treatment."
"Please don't speak for me, Paul," Nicole snapped.
"I'm sensing a lot of anger from Nicole," Dr. Davison continued. "Your anger is completely understandable, but I'll need to help you work past it before we can move forward in healing your relationship."
Nicole gulped in an effort to calm herself. "I don't want to feel angry," she said. "I thought I'd gotten past most of my anger, but clearly I haven't. I still don't understand how he could have hurt me so much."
She bit her lip and a single tear rolled down her cheek. The doctor handed her a Kleenex. Paul leaned across the sofa and pulled her into his arms, where she instantly dissolved into helpless tears. She was suddenly too exhausted and drained to put up a fight. She was tired of being brave and strong and forcing herself to get on with her life.
The last few months had been such a struggle and had taken a toll on her.
She buried her face in Paul's chest and inhaled his familiar soapy smell. It was a relief to let her tears flow. Eventually, her sobs began to subside. She took the Kleenex which Dr Davison offered her and wiped her tear-up streaked face. "I must look a right mess," she sniffed.
"You look beautiful, as always," Paul said, gently squeezing her knee.
"This will work out," Dr. Davison said decisively. "I can see that you two still love each other dearly. It will take hard work and determination to rescue your relationship and it will hurt at times, but I believe you can do it."
Neither of them knew quite what to say to the other after their session with Dr. Davison. They walked in uneasy silence to the parking lot. After much begging on Nicole's part, Evette had finally agreed to let her borrow her precious car for the day. She was grateful as she really couldn't face the thought of dealing with people on the commute into town.
"I know I've never been very good with words, Nicole," Paul began, as they arrived at their cars.
She looked up at him as he spoke. He was still quite pale and drawn even though it had been several months since they'd broken up. She could see that their separation was still taking a toll on him and she felt her heart begin to melt a little.
"I couldn't deal with what I'd done to you, to us, when you first left. The thought of my life without you was unbearable and I couldn't handle the fact that it was my fault. I found it difficult to process my thoughts and emotions and I had nobody to talk to. Everyone except your dad seemed to ha
ve turned against me, not that I can blame them. I started a journal, where I tried to make sense of everything and it's helped me to get my head together somewhat. I want you to have it."
He opened his car door and pulled a thick, hardback notebook off the front passenger seat. He gave his journal to her. She took it in silence, not knowing quite what to say. Paul had never liked writing. She was the writer in their relationship. She'd bought him a journal a few years previously for his birthday and she was surprised to see that he'd kept it all that time.
"Will you read it?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, of course."
He walked her to her car and opened the door for her.
"Bye," she said as she clambered inside, putting her keys in the ignition.
He hesitated for a moment before saying "I love you, Nicole."
"Bye," was all she could manage to say in response, those three important words caught in her throat.
Chapter 21
"It's the most wonderful time of the year" blasted from the surround sound stereo system in the sisters' apartment.
"Merry Christmas!" Nicole cheerfully greeted Evette as she wandered into the kitchen for her morning coffee.
"Merry Christmas." Evette looked bewildered.
There were pots and pans strewn everywhere and each hob on the cooker was bubbling with one of her sister's many concoctions.
"What day is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"It's Sunday, December the first; officially the first day of Christmas." Nicole was busily stirring eggs into a huge bowl.
"You've been busy."
"I sure have. This is my favourite time of the year."
"Well, it smells wonderful in here." Evette sniffed the air appreciatively.
"I'm cooking us a special breakfast to celebrate December the first."
"Yum, I'm absolutely ravenous." Evette's stomach growled just as she spoke and the sisters laughed at the noise. "What are we eating?" she asked as she watched her sister expertly add a pinch of cinnamon and another pinch of nutmeg into her mixing bowl.
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