Diary of a Single Wedding Planner (Tales Behind the Veils Book 1) by Violet Howe Page A
Authors: Violet Howe
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that?”
“You’re asking me? I have no idea. I’ve never shaved this much hair before either. You do it. Then if it’s all jacked up I can always blame you.”
“I don’t know what to do! I’m scared I’ll cut you. Give you scars for life.”
“I think I already have those,” he said. I think he meant to try and be funny, but his face fell a bit when he said it. I didn’t want him sliding back into darkness so soon, so I grabbed the scissors and started trimming.
“I still think I would do better with hedge clippers,” I said. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Once I had it cut down some, I lathered him up and took the razor to his face. I was so scared I would cut him that my hand shook. As I worked, the hair fell all over me, the sink, the floor, and the countertop. This man had a lot of facial hair happening. I tried to spread my legs further and lean backward so he could lean forward over the sink, but hair still went everywhere.
It’s funny that I can be so close to him physically and not be weirded out. I mean, shaving a guy’s face is kind of a personal thing. (Not as personal as bathing someone, but still personal.) Being crammed together in my tiny bathroom put us in really close proximity with my legs spread wide around his as he leaned into the sink. I could feel his breath as he exhaled and smell the sweet bitterness of wine on his tongue with our faces only inches apart.
If this was a date, I’d be freaking out. Worried my breath smelled, or my thighs looked fat in this position. I’d be nervous he was looking down my top and expecting this to lead somewhere. I’d be obsessing over whether or not I wanted it to and what would happen if it did. I’d be wondering if it meant anything that I was shaving him and if I should be worried about him taking it the wrong way.
Luckily, it was just Cabe. I didn’t have to go through all that. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t a date. (Wouldn’t that be a really weird date—to shave someone? I bet there’s some kinky sexual fetish for that, too, but thankfully I am unaware.) There was no tension. No awkwardness. Just me and Cabe. As comfortable and easy as it’s always been.
I hear people say they’re married to their best friend. I think that must be the best relationship of all. If I could have what Cabe and I have in friendship and fun but also have the physical attraction and romantic feelings, then that would be the bomb-diggety to end all searching. Does it exist? Is it possible to be utterly uninhibited and not at all self-conscious, and yet be in love? Because it seems like once you introduce love—sex, passion, romance—then it all gets messed up and scary. You have something to lose. You can be rejected. Or betrayed. Your heart, your hopes, your dreams can all be annihilated.
And yes, Cabe did hurt me. He did leave me. But it wasn’t rejection really. It wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or thin enough. It wasn’t because he didn’t want me or like me, or even love me. Because we are friends, not lovers. It’s different.
I think love screws it up. Maybe you get love or you get friendship. Only the very lucky get both.
Wednesday, October 23rd
Laura asked me today to train Charlotte on an event this weekend. She must be joking. In addition to sending my client the entire wedding file, Charlotte also told a bride her wedding was cancelled when it wasn’t, told another bride the groom was ridiculously smoking hot and she would date him in a heartbeat, and ordered a cake covered in daisies for a bride who had very emphatically requested no daisies anywhere at her wedding.
Charlotte says she saw DAISIES in all caps in the file and figured they were important, so she asked the chef to add them to the cake. I asked if she bothered to read any of the comments regarding daisies. Nope. Saw the word in all caps and figured the bride must like them.
Good Lord,
“You’re asking me? I have no idea. I’ve never shaved this much hair before either. You do it. Then if it’s all jacked up I can always blame you.”
“I don’t know what to do! I’m scared I’ll cut you. Give you scars for life.”
“I think I already have those,” he said. I think he meant to try and be funny, but his face fell a bit when he said it. I didn’t want him sliding back into darkness so soon, so I grabbed the scissors and started trimming.
“I still think I would do better with hedge clippers,” I said. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Once I had it cut down some, I lathered him up and took the razor to his face. I was so scared I would cut him that my hand shook. As I worked, the hair fell all over me, the sink, the floor, and the countertop. This man had a lot of facial hair happening. I tried to spread my legs further and lean backward so he could lean forward over the sink, but hair still went everywhere.
It’s funny that I can be so close to him physically and not be weirded out. I mean, shaving a guy’s face is kind of a personal thing. (Not as personal as bathing someone, but still personal.) Being crammed together in my tiny bathroom put us in really close proximity with my legs spread wide around his as he leaned into the sink. I could feel his breath as he exhaled and smell the sweet bitterness of wine on his tongue with our faces only inches apart.
If this was a date, I’d be freaking out. Worried my breath smelled, or my thighs looked fat in this position. I’d be nervous he was looking down my top and expecting this to lead somewhere. I’d be obsessing over whether or not I wanted it to and what would happen if it did. I’d be wondering if it meant anything that I was shaving him and if I should be worried about him taking it the wrong way.
Luckily, it was just Cabe. I didn’t have to go through all that. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t a date. (Wouldn’t that be a really weird date—to shave someone? I bet there’s some kinky sexual fetish for that, too, but thankfully I am unaware.) There was no tension. No awkwardness. Just me and Cabe. As comfortable and easy as it’s always been.
I hear people say they’re married to their best friend. I think that must be the best relationship of all. If I could have what Cabe and I have in friendship and fun but also have the physical attraction and romantic feelings, then that would be the bomb-diggety to end all searching. Does it exist? Is it possible to be utterly uninhibited and not at all self-conscious, and yet be in love? Because it seems like once you introduce love—sex, passion, romance—then it all gets messed up and scary. You have something to lose. You can be rejected. Or betrayed. Your heart, your hopes, your dreams can all be annihilated.
And yes, Cabe did hurt me. He did leave me. But it wasn’t rejection really. It wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or thin enough. It wasn’t because he didn’t want me or like me, or even love me. Because we are friends, not lovers. It’s different.
I think love screws it up. Maybe you get love or you get friendship. Only the very lucky get both.
Wednesday, October 23rd
Laura asked me today to train Charlotte on an event this weekend. She must be joking. In addition to sending my client the entire wedding file, Charlotte also told a bride her wedding was cancelled when it wasn’t, told another bride the groom was ridiculously smoking hot and she would date him in a heartbeat, and ordered a cake covered in daisies for a bride who had very emphatically requested no daisies anywhere at her wedding.
Charlotte says she saw DAISIES in all caps in the file and figured they were important, so she asked the chef to add them to the cake. I asked if she bothered to read any of the comments regarding daisies. Nope. Saw the word in all caps and figured the bride must like them.
Good Lord,
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