Chapter 1
S oft music began to play through the unobtrusive speakers, the sign that they were about to begin. All eyes turned to the young woman with the soft halo of cornsilk curls as she paused dramatically at the back of the large room. She stood, one hand linked through her father’s arm, the other nervously clutching a bouquet of wildflowers that her fiancé had lovingly handpicked for the occasion on the way over. When she looked out at the expectant faces of the assembled family members and friends, a small number since this was only the rehearsal, she didn’t see a single smiling face.
It had taken months—no, years, if she was being honest with herself—to get to this moment, and it was time in which the animosity between the two families had only escalated instead of been put to rest. The past few months had been filled with resentment, anger, and even hatred lobbed by almost everyone in the room.
But instead of feeling sad, Priscilla only felt… resolved. Determined. Even fierce. There would be time to mourn for her happy day later, the day that these people had all conspired in one way or another to take away from her, but right now in this moment, her eyes were fixed on Porter, standing waiting for her at the front of the room. She refused to see anyone else, but instead kept her gaze focused on his bright blue eyes. It was the only thing that distracted her from the ugly looks on the guests’ faces, but even that small detail made her laugh inside.
Priscilla had only taken one step towards the front when a wrinkled old hag on her side of the aisle leapt to her feet in a rush. All eyes turned to her as she threw her hands to her throat and clawed at her own neck for a moment before collapsing, falling in the aisle and almost completely blocking it. The bride continued to walk, unfazed by the woman’s dramatic display, and coldly stepped over the writhing old woman in order to reach Porter.
“Great Granny always said this wedding would happen over her dead body,” the bride said to no one in particular. “I’m glad to see she’s a woman of her word.”
Chapter 2
A week before …
Anastacia East and Events by Design were at the top of their game. Besides yet another incredible write up in one of the country’s leading lifestyle magazines, there had been a number of high-profile events that had gone off flawlessly, with their usual impeccable ability to shine. There were eighteen new events on the calendar for the upcoming two-week period, and the entire team was handling them with élan. Staff meetings were a breeze and her team members were the model of efficiency, and Stacy watched over all of it with pleasure.
Then the Hardys appeared. To be more precise, the Hardys and the Lancasters appeared. But it was mostly the Hardys. Although she couldn’t let the Lancasters off the hook completely, if she was being honest.
No, that wasn’t fair either. Stacy decided she could have handled either the Hardys or the Lancasters without batting an eye, and all would have been well. Instead, she was forced to deal with both families, since their star-crossed offspring had somehow met, fallen in love, and decided to marry, against their families’ wishes.
“How exactly do you plan to seat that many people who are not only not speaking to each other, but who actually have restraining orders against each other?” Jeremiah, the lead florist, demanded one day during an emergency planning session.
“I’ll handle it, just like I always do. I mean, just like we always do,” she reminded her staff. Instead of nodding their heads at her sage words and her in-charge tone of voice, they looked at each other around the table with fearful, uncertain expressions.
“Yes, but we don’t usually have to have a police presence at a wedding.”
“Watch what you say! The cops have been called to two different weddings in the last year and a half, remember?” Tori, the head designer, muttered, rolling her eyes.
S oft music began to play through the unobtrusive speakers, the sign that they were about to begin. All eyes turned to the young woman with the soft halo of cornsilk curls as she paused dramatically at the back of the large room. She stood, one hand linked through her father’s arm, the other nervously clutching a bouquet of wildflowers that her fiancé had lovingly handpicked for the occasion on the way over. When she looked out at the expectant faces of the assembled family members and friends, a small number since this was only the rehearsal, she didn’t see a single smiling face.
It had taken months—no, years, if she was being honest with herself—to get to this moment, and it was time in which the animosity between the two families had only escalated instead of been put to rest. The past few months had been filled with resentment, anger, and even hatred lobbed by almost everyone in the room.
But instead of feeling sad, Priscilla only felt… resolved. Determined. Even fierce. There would be time to mourn for her happy day later, the day that these people had all conspired in one way or another to take away from her, but right now in this moment, her eyes were fixed on Porter, standing waiting for her at the front of the room. She refused to see anyone else, but instead kept her gaze focused on his bright blue eyes. It was the only thing that distracted her from the ugly looks on the guests’ faces, but even that small detail made her laugh inside.
Priscilla had only taken one step towards the front when a wrinkled old hag on her side of the aisle leapt to her feet in a rush. All eyes turned to her as she threw her hands to her throat and clawed at her own neck for a moment before collapsing, falling in the aisle and almost completely blocking it. The bride continued to walk, unfazed by the woman’s dramatic display, and coldly stepped over the writhing old woman in order to reach Porter.
“Great Granny always said this wedding would happen over her dead body,” the bride said to no one in particular. “I’m glad to see she’s a woman of her word.”
Chapter 2
A week before …
Anastacia East and Events by Design were at the top of their game. Besides yet another incredible write up in one of the country’s leading lifestyle magazines, there had been a number of high-profile events that had gone off flawlessly, with their usual impeccable ability to shine. There were eighteen new events on the calendar for the upcoming two-week period, and the entire team was handling them with élan. Staff meetings were a breeze and her team members were the model of efficiency, and Stacy watched over all of it with pleasure.
Then the Hardys appeared. To be more precise, the Hardys and the Lancasters appeared. But it was mostly the Hardys. Although she couldn’t let the Lancasters off the hook completely, if she was being honest.
No, that wasn’t fair either. Stacy decided she could have handled either the Hardys or the Lancasters without batting an eye, and all would have been well. Instead, she was forced to deal with both families, since their star-crossed offspring had somehow met, fallen in love, and decided to marry, against their families’ wishes.
“How exactly do you plan to seat that many people who are not only not speaking to each other, but who actually have restraining orders against each other?” Jeremiah, the lead florist, demanded one day during an emergency planning session.
“I’ll handle it, just like I always do. I mean, just like we always do,” she reminded her staff. Instead of nodding their heads at her sage words and her in-charge tone of voice, they looked at each other around the table with fearful, uncertain expressions.
“Yes, but we don’t usually have to have a police presence at a wedding.”
“Watch what you say! The cops have been called to two different weddings in the last year and a half, remember?” Tori, the head designer, muttered, rolling her eyes.
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