With This Ring
Chapter 1
Lily
“Don’t worry,
Mrs. Perry. I’ve rescheduled your daughter’s fitting for Wednesday at three.
Please tell Cassie we hope she feels better soon.”
I try to
disguise the panic in my voice. A bride with a case of the flu is bad news,
especially when she’s due for her final fitting and the wedding is just two
weeks away. Still, it’s my job to keep the bride—and her mother—calm, so I
force a smile and tell her not to worry before ending the call.
“Fuck!” I mutter
to myself, shaking my head. This is not what we needed, not now. But I will do
the worrying. That’s what they pay me to do.
As a wedding
planner, my life consists of nothing but gown fittings and cake samples,
putting out fires, and making sure that the bride gets the day of her dreams.
Of course, I deal with my share of Bridezillas, but I love my career. I enjoy
the organizing and planning that helps to turn every girl’s dream wedding into
a reality.
Every girl, that
is, except for me.
I am thirty-two
years old, and my mother is convinced she’ll be dead and buried long before she
has the chance to see me in a wedding gown. According to her, I work too much,
and my only real chance of finding a husband of my own is if I happen to catch
the eye of a groomsman.
Which I’ve done,
incidentally, but it’s never resulted in more than just a few one-night stands
and a date with my B.O.B.
I’ve planned
hundreds of weddings—and some have actually lasted past the first
anniversary—but I’ve seen enough marital heartache to know that there is no
Prince Charming, and I have serious doubts I will ever be a blushing bride. I
know this is not what people want in a wedding planner, so I keep my thoughts
to myself.
Suddenly the
door swing opens, and in walks my partner-in-crime, ripping me out of my pity
party.
“Kill me,”
Sierra mutters. She’s holding her bag, two coffees, and the latest issue of Bridal
Couture. “Murder me. Seriously.”
Sierra is new to
the wedding business and has a flair for the dramatic. What she considers a
disaster rarely is.
“You can’t die
today. You have the Williams’ meeting at two.”
“That’s what you
think.”
My stomach
sinks, and I know my face is white. The shitty economy hasn’t been kind to the
wedding planning industry. More and more brides are planning their own
ceremonies in order to save money.
“What happened?”
I ask, hoping she is just being her melodramatic self this morning.
She offers me
one of the cups. “Eloped. The bride didn’t even have the guts to call. She made
her father do it.”
Fucking
hell! It really is a disaster.
“Did Daddy say
why?”
“Oh, they just
couldn’t wait to spend the rest of their fucking lives together,
so they took a flight to the Bahamas and got married on the damn beach!”
“Where the sand
is free.”
“Seriously,
Lily, I want to puke.”
I shake my head
and sigh. They were supposed to sign the contract today. Another commission
bites the dust.
“Cassandra Perry
has the flu,” I tell her.
“What a day,
huh? I think this calls for margaritas.”
“We can’t afford
to be alcoholics.” Though the thought is really tempting today!
“True.” Sierra frowns
and takes a long sip of her coffee. She opens her mouth to say something when
we hear the door open.
A customer
enters the shop, and we plaster on smiles.
“I’ve got this,”
Sierra says, following the woman over to the display of invitations.
I thank her and
boot up my laptop. Opening our financial records, I scan the screen as I check
to see if making next month’s mortgage is even a possibility.
The next two or
three months look okay thanks to tomorrow’s wedding. After
that . . . who knows?
Depression—hard
and fast—hits me like a tidal wave. We’ve had some rough times, but this is the
closest we’ve ever come to closing our doors. It unnerves me.
It isn’t long
before the customer is gone. Sierra looks completely
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