Diary of an Engaged Wedding Planner (Tales Behind the Veils Book 3)

by Howe, Violet

  He lifted his head and grinned as he touched his forehead to mine. “I suppose we do need to plan. It’s always best to have a plan.”

  I slid my tongue between his lips and pushed them open, sucking his tongue into my mouth as he moaned a little. He lifted me up and sat me on the counter, his own tongue demanding mine as I released his.

  It didn’t take long for me to forget all about Mama and any stress I may have had minutes before. I can’t imagine it will be better than this between us after the wedding. If he’s holding back now, I may die of bliss when he pulls out all the stops. Oh, how I love that man of mine.

  July

  Friday, July 4th

  I have never understood the people who get married on July 4th. Kind of ironic, don’t you think? To relinquish independence on Independence Day? Yet every year, they book it. I get that it’s a holiday weekend. Which means their guests will have time off and be able to travel. Not to mention that you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your anniversary off every year. But it just seems odd somehow.

  For me, today was yet another step forward in setting boundaries for myself. Mainly because today’s wedding further proved that we need clearly defined job responsibilities for this position.

  Looking back over my career, I truly feel I’ve gone above and beyond for our brides.

  I’ve taken boudoir photos of a bride wearing nothing but her garter, heels and veil. I’ve written more than one poignant love letter to a bride from a groom who found himself at a loss for words but knew he was expected to pony up something for the big day. I’ve climbed up under I don’t even know how many gowns and encountered sweaty hou-has and rumps in order to bustle complicated trains and adjust garters or thigh-highs.

  I’ve even put pantyhose on another human being, for Christ’s sake.

  But today, I drew a line in defense of decency and personal boundaries.

  Adriana was a sweet bride. Nice. Courteous. Four bridesmaids, all nice as well. Her closest friends, I would presume.

  When I retrieved her maids to line them up for the processional, I asked if she wanted her maid-of-honor, Gabrielle, to stay with her. Adriana’s father had passed away when she was ten, and she was walking down the aisle alone.

  She thanked me and assured me she was fine to wait by herself.

  I lined up the girls, sent them down the aisle to join the guys at the altar, and came back to get Adriana. It couldn’t have been more than three or four minutes. Tops.

  When I entered the dressing room, I knew we had a problem.

  Adriana was nowhere in sight, but the sounds coming from behind the closed bathroom door left no doubt as to her whereabouts. The smell hit me like a ton of bricks, and I immediately turned to go back outside and give her some privacy and me a breath of fresh air.

  The clock didn’t stop ticking, however, and when I heard the organist start the bridesmaids’ song again, I knew everyone inside must be wondering why the bride hadn’t entered.

  I gave her a few more minutes, probably two in all honesty, but it felt like an eternity while the familiar notes of the song played on and my carefully-planned timeline slipped through my fingers.

  My hand hesitated on the dressing room door as I took one last gulp of clean air and steeled my senses for the inevitable assault.

  “Adriana? You okay?” I tried to exhale as little as possible when I spoke, fighting to preserve the air in my lungs and avoid inhaling at all costs.

  It didn’t help. The smell of her distress hung heavy in the air like a poison cloud. My gag reflex betrayed my outward demeanor of nonchalance, and I clamped my hand over my mouth praying she wouldn’t hear my reaction. That killed two birds with one stone, since my hand covered my nostrils as well.

  “My stomach’s upset,” Adriana replied. Her voice cracked a bit, though I couldn’t tell how much was embarrassment, how much was emotion, and how much was the strain of her situation. Literally.

  I bit my tongue to keep from saying “I know!” and instead I asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

  What a stupid question. What on earth could I possibly do to help her with intestinal explosions?

  “I think I just need a minute.”

  “Right, okay. Let me just go tell the organist to stall a bit.”

  “Thanks, Tyler. I’ll be fine. Maybe I had too much to drink last night.”

  “No problem.” I forced enthusiasm into my voice, eager to put her mind at ease. Adding more stress would only complicate the situation further.

  I cannot begin to imagine how mortified she must have been. Some things in life are meant to be private affairs. Not only did this poor girl have to converse with me while on the toilet, she also had one hundred wedding guests and her future husband waiting while her body rebelled.

  I opened the door to the sanctuary just enough to make eye contact with the organist. He’d been watching for any sign of entry, and his hopeful smile sank in disappointment when I motioned for him to keep playing.

  Time slowed down to a crawl as I waited what I thought was a reasonable amount of time before going back into the war zone. Adriana hadn’t emerged from the bathroom when I returned, but the sounds had ceased. The aroma still lingered, though, burning my nostrils to the point that my eyes watered in an attempt to put out the fire.

  “Doing okay, Adriana?” I cringed as I waited for her response.

  “Um, yeah. I just can’t . . . well, I can’t figure out how to . . . with the dress, I mean . . . I can’t, um, I think I need help. I can’t hold up all these layers and wipe at the same time.”

  I took a step backwards in horror. Oh no. Oh hell no. Ain’t gonna be a day. Nope. No way. I spun on my heel without even responding to the poor girl, and without a moment’s hesitation I opened the sanctuary door and marched my happy ass down the aisle in front of all those guests to get the maid-of-honor and the bride’s mother.

  Consider the line drawn.

  There are some things I will not do for a bride.

  Sunday, July 6th

  Going out to dinner with Cabe’s family was the last thing I wanted to do after working pretty much around the clock the last three days. I was exhausted and irritable, needing sleep, mindless reality television, and a gallon of ice cream. I couldn’t very well bow out, though, since Maggie had insisted they wait to go to dinner tonight because it was the only night I wasn’t working.

  Not that I would have bowed out anyway. Galen and Tate had flown in from New York to celebrate Maggie’s birthday, and I hadn’t seen Galen since the night she verbally assaulted me in the bathroom of the comedy club. No way would I duck out of dinner and make her think I was intimidated by her. Not a chance.

  Besides, Maggie’s parents were driving up from South Florida, so we were not only celebrating Maggie’s birthday but also telling Cabe’s grandparents about our engagement. I’d met Peggy and Bill a couple of times before, and they were sweet people, much like Maggie.

  So despite my desire to stay in bed all day, I forced myself to roll out late in the afternoon so I could take a shower and be a presentable fiancée by the time Cabe picked me up at five.

  “You look adorable,” he said as he kissed me hello.

  “Why, thank you. You’re looking quite dapper yourself.”

  His suit was fitted perfectly to his broad shoulders before tapering down to hug a little slimmer at his waist, the pale gray highlighting his eyes and turning them almost the same exact shade. He had slicked back his long curls so that his square jawline and high cheekbones were prominently showcased. He’d also trimmed his goatee, thinning the mustache a bit and tapering his chin almost to a point. I marveled anew at the fact that this man had been by my side for so long without me truly noticing his hotness. I must have been blind then, but thankfully, my eyes had since been opened.

  “You nervous? About Galen, I mean?” I asked as we exited the car at the restaurant.

  “No. She won’t make a scene in front of Nana and Pops. She’ll be the epitom
e of nicety,” Cabe snarled. “You?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all.” If anything, I welcomed the opportunity to show little sister that I was not only still here, but sporting a ring that said I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

  We were the last to arrive, and the only seats available were between Maggie and her dad. I’m sure that was purposeful on someone’s part, although I don’t know if it was Maggie or Galen. Bill stood and hugged me and his grandson, and Cabe and I both hugged Maggie and Peggy before taking our seats. We didn’t acknowledge Galen and she didn’t acknowledge us, but Tate did shake Cabe’s hand. I had to wonder where he stood on all the family drama as the other outsider, although I’m sure he’d side with Galen no matter what.

  Maggie had me show off my ring pretty much right off the bat, which resulted in another round of hugs and loud exclamations of excitement. Bill ordered a bottle of champagne and toasted our engagement as well as Maggie’s birthday. I could feel Galen’s eyes boring a hole through me during the hoopla, but I chose not to make eye contact with her.

  “Have you decided on a date yet, dear?” Peggy asked as we ate.

  I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”

  “We’ll have to plan it around her other weddings, Nana.” Cabe smiled at me as he said it.

  “I see,” Peggy said. “What about a location? Do you have a place in mind?”

  Well, wasn’t that the million dollar question I’d hoped to avoid!

  “Not yet.”

  Maggie turned to me. “You’ll get married here, though? Orlando? With all your work, you’re familiar with all the best vendors and locations, I’m sure. Of course, if you wanted to host it at the Performing Arts Center, I’d be happy to help however I could. Being an executive director does have some perks, I’d hope.”

  She and Peggy laughed, and I smiled, uneasy about the topic.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Cabe interjected to my rescue, “but we haven’t made any decisions yet. We’re not in a hurry.” He took my hand in his.

  Galen remained silent, but I could still feel her eyes on me. I finally stole a glance in her direction and almost recoiled from the venom directed my way. Almost, but not quite. I’d been caught off guard with her once already. I wouldn’t do it again. This time I was on the offensive.

  “So, Galen, how’s New York?” I said in my sweetest voice possible.

  Her eyes widened a bit, surprised that I’d asked. “Fine.”

  “She was just telling us about her new role. Isn’t it wonderful that she and Tate got parts in the same show?” Peggy beamed at her granddaughter, who beamed back with a much warmer expression than the one she’d given me.

  Conversation proceeded throughout dinner with Bill and Peggy catching up with their grandchildren and Maggie updating us on upcoming events she was planning at the Performing Arts Center. We’d finished our entrees and several glasses of wine when Galen excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, and bolstered by everyone’s enthusiasm for our engagement (and I’m sure, in part, the wine) I decided to take a stand.

  “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I smiled to the table as I dropped my napkin on my chair. Cabe and Maggie both looked at me with either question or alarm, but I didn’t acknowledge their concern. The raging tempest inside me had built to a head and had to be dealt with.

  Galen had already entered a stall by the time I got to the ladies’ room, so I did a quick peek underneath the other doors to make sure we were alone before locking the bathroom door. I didn’t care to have an audience for what I intended to say.

  I plopped myself up onto the bathroom counter, immediately regretting the decision as water soaked through my skirt. Galen opened her stall just as I realized my mistake, so I sat up straight and decided to play it cool.

  “We need to talk,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice despite the butterflies in my stomach and cold wetness seeping across my butt.

  “Do we? About what?” Galen asked in a clipped tone as she washed her hands in the sink beside me.

  “I think you know.”

  “Okay.” She crossed her arms and took a stance that I knew would give her a height advantage, but in my wet seat on the counter, we stayed eye to eye.

  “I understand you were trying to protect your brother when you attacked me that night at the comedy club—”

  “Attacked you? Oh, please. Don’t be dramatic.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and shifted her weight to one foot.

  “And since I have a brother, I understand how you’d want to look out for his best interests. Keep anyone from hurting him. I know if anyone purposely hurt my brother, they’d have to answer to me. So I get where you’re coming from. But here’s what you need to realize.”

  I hopped off the counter, not even caring if my ass was wet or I was at least four inches shorter than Galen. “First, your brother is a grown man, and he doesn’t need you to protect him. He can make his own decisions. Second, I love your brother, and I’m not going anywhere. So unless you want me and you to have beef from here on out, we need to come to some kind of agreement. First of all, I will never tolerate you talking to me the way you did that night.”

  “Oh my Lord, how many times do I have to hear about this?” Galen tossed her hands in the air and grunted. “I’m sorry, okay? Everyone has crawled all over me for this, and all I was trying to do was look out for my brother. He wants you? He can have you. Be my guest. Everyone seriously needs to get off my back about this.”

  She stomped to the door and broke a fingernail trying to jerk it open without realizing I’d locked it. She turned to me, mouth wide open as she grasped her finger in her hand. “You locked the door?”

  “I’m not finished. I got one more thing to say. Like I said, we both got brothers, and we know how protective we feel about them. So if I’m willing to kick someone’s ass over my brother, imagine what I’d be willing to do to someone who hurt my future husband. If you ever blindside him again or make even the slightest decision on his behalf without his knowledge, I will be all over you like white on rice.”

  I got up in her face—well, as much as possible with the height difference—and tried to look intimidating. I’d never been in a physical altercation in my life, but I wanted her to believe I could be if she hurt Cabe again.

  Her jaw set tightly in a move I knew so well, and it dawned on me that it was one of the few physical similarities she and Cabe shared.

  “Understood?” I had my hands on my hips, adrenaline coursing through my body like wildfire. I felt like I could whip somebody’s ass, even if it was highly improbable that I actually would.

  Galen stared at me for a long pause and then nodded.

  I twisted the lock on the door and strode out past her with much more confidence than someone with water all over the back of their skirt should have.

  Cabe’s eyes were on me the minute I came into sight, and I flashed him a smile and a wink.

  “Everything okay?” he whispered as he stood to pull my chair out for me.

  “Fine. Just fine.” I locked eyes with Galen and smiled, and she forced a smile back to me.

  Whether I’d made an enemy or an ally would remain to be seen, but at least she knew this dog’ll bite.

  Thursday, July 10th

  Tomorrow, I will introduce the love of my life to my family and announce our engagement.

  Holy crapola.

  He’s excited beyond belief and I feel like I’m gonna throw up. It’s like my worlds are colliding. The life I lived back home, the person I was there, and the life I live here as the person I’ve become. The two worlds are actually very different in almost every way. Culture. Lifestyle. Language. Food.

  I think underneath the excitement, Cabe is a bit nervous, too.

  He walked in tonight wearing cowboy boots. He doesn’t own cowboy boots. Or at least he didn’t before tonight.

  “Look what I bought,” he proudly proclaimed as he sauntered in my apartment with an exaggerated swagger.

&nbs
p; I looked at the absolutely gorgeous boots on his feet and cracked up laughing. “What are those?”

  “Cowboy boots!” He picked each foot up and turned it left and right to give me a better view.

  “I know that. But why are you wearing them? Why did you buy them?”

  He shrugged and grinned at me, the silly boyish grin he wears when he’s a little embarrassed. “I dunno. I guess I wanted to fit in.”

  “Honey, you’re not going to fit in just because you put on a pair of boots, and that’s perfectly fine with me.” I slid my hands up his chest and around his neck. “If I wanted a cowboy-boot-wearing redneck, I’d have stayed back home. I like that you’re different.” I stretched up on my toes to kiss the handsome man who would go to any lengths to make me happy.

  “But I kinda like ‘em,” he said, looking down at the boots and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “They’re comfortable. They’re cool. Maybe this will be my new fashion statement.”

  I smiled and backed up to take another look. They were really nice boots, and he looked damned hot wearing them. I’d forgotten how sexy boots can be when they’re worn well. Which, I must say, he was certainly doing with his faded jeans and black T-shirt.

  “You don’t like ‘em? Really?” He scrunched his nose a bit and looked down at the boots.

  “They’re growing on me. Take a walk across the living room without the cowboy swagger.”

  At first, he played up the exaggerated sway to the hilt, but when he relaxed and walked normally, I realized how much I’d missed seeing a man in boots.

  “Ah, see? I can tell you like ‘em now,” he said when he turned to walk back toward me. “You got that look in your eyes like you’re picturing me wearing nothing but the boots.”

  I threw my head back in laughter, and he picked me up and twirled me before setting me back down with a kiss that left me breathless and dizzy, although that may have been partially caused by the twirling.