Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  Diego shook his head, still smiling. "I wish I had thought of that. I'm a little rusty at dating."

  I picked up my wine glass and swirled the clear liquid in it. "You? Rusty? That's hardly believable." His eyebrow shot up. "Have you seen yourself lately? Don't act all humble. You think all the girls in Torture go there for fun? And don't include Chase. She does do it for fun."

  He probably had a good comeback for me, but Luciano brought an amuse-bouche, a lobster-topped choux pastry—creamy, flaky and so yum!

  "So, who is it?"

  "Who?" I asked, taking a sip of wine.

  "Who sent the flowers?"

  Whatever wine I had left in my mouth sputtered out a bit. Se-xy. "What makes you think I know?"

  Diego chuckled, pouring a bit more wine into my glass. "When I told you I didn't send them, your eyes got all...squinty."

  "Squinty?" A giggle burst out of me.

  Diego played with his napkin on the table. The confidence I’d seen on him time after time was waning. "I'm going to level with you, Nica." He stared me right in the eyes, folding his hands on top of his napkin. "I think you're great. You're smart, accomplished, talented, and you're beautiful."

  "I don't know about that," I said, looking down on my fingers.

  He reached over and tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You. Are. Beautiful.” Diego threaded his fingers together, cleared his throat and continued, “As I said before, I came to San Francisco for love. My fiancée, ex-fiancée, found a job here, and I followed her. I was never a believer of long distance relationships, you see." He paused, laughing at something I didn't quite catch. "I know I'm breaking a lot of rules here—talking about past relationships during a first date."

  I straightened on my chair and fiddled with my own napkin. "So, you've been briefed by Chase too?" We both chuckled at that.

  Luciano reappeared to serve us a fresh baguette and our appetizers of rillettes of rabbit and salmon terrine. I was starving, and the smell of food set my stomach grumbling. I waited for Diego to start, but he urged me with an offer of bread. It was a great compliment to the wine.

  "Marissa, my ex, had a great job at a marketing company. She was doing well. And I wasn't.” Diego raised his shoulders in a half shrug. “I also didn't look like this back then. I loved food too much. Way too much. I didn't exercise, I smoked, and I drank a lot, too. I was working here when Marissa left me for another man."

  I cleared my throat for fear that I would choke on rabbit and bread. "I...don't know what to say."

  Diego smiled, but it didn't nearly reach his eyes. "Marissa thought I wasn't going anywhere, that I wouldn't amount to anything. She said that if I couldn't even take care of myself, how could I ever take care of her?" No matter how long ago that had been, he was still hurt by it; it was apparent in his voice.

  My mouth went dry. A confident, handsome-as-sin man was pouring his heart out to me. All I had to offer back was, "Is that why you look like this now?"

  Thankfully, he thought I was being funny. "That would be a no. I did this for myself. That’s what I was getting at." Chocolate brown eyes mesmerized me. "I didn't change for her. I didn't change for what she said. I woke up one day and asked myself what I had done to me. I changed for me." The confident man returned. He reached for my hand and squeezed. "This guy who brought you flowers, was he the reason why you came to my class?"

  Jake? Was he the reason for all the physical torture I put myself through each morning?

  "I didn’t?"

  "You’re not sure? But you didn’t do it for yourself."

  I shrugged and screwed my lips into a grimace. "Not exactly. Chase threatened to drag me if I didn’t go, physically drag me."

  His laughter boomed in the otherwise quiet restaurant. "But someone did break your heart. Is he worth it? The change? The process? The pain?" I nodded, shook my head, and nodded again. "You change only for you if you want to. You don't change for any man. But I'm curious about him. Tell me."

  And as faux pas as it was, I babbled about not just one man but that man’s best friend during a first date with a viable partner, over our lovely prepared dinner and wine, and minus the gritty details (the whole world didn't need to know my foibles). Over our shared dessert of creme brûlée and cups of tea, we went back to discussing who had sent the flowers.

  "He’s an old school romantic." I laughed at Diego's comment. "When I said your eyes became squinty, I knew that look. You obviously think about him enough. My friends used to tell me that too when I thought of Marissa. For him, the flowers said a lot. He knows you're smart. He knows you'll figure out they're from him. Ball's in your court now, girl."

  I chuckled mirthlessly, wrapping a hand around my teacup while I scooped another bite of the dessert. “It’s not really Jake’s thing to send me flowers. He was more of a ‘let’s go out for dinner since we’re too exhausted’ kind of guy or ‘let’s cuddle on the couch and watch a movie’.” But maybe being engaged to a French woman had changed Jake.

  “Nica, Nica, Nica.” He shook his head and rubbed his palms together.

  I nibbled on the tip of my teaspoon. "What?” I huffed out a heavy sigh when all he did was cock his head to the side and continued to look adorable. Damn. "I'm sorry about this date."

  "I'm not. I got to spend a wonderful dinner with a wonderful girl. It just so happens her heart already belongs to someone else."

  Double damn. Why couldn't my heart beat erratically for him?

  The chef came out again and thanked us for coming. I kept his card for future references. I'd never know when I would need a great French chef.

  I excused myself to head to the bathrooms, and while I was reapplying my lipstick in front of gilded mirrors, my cell phone vibrated in my purse. Thinking that it was Chase checking on me and my date, I fished it out and was surprised by the picture that appeared on my screen. There he was, hair mussed, eyes lit up and lips slightly puckered. From the familiar floral print surrounding him, Levi had taken a selfie on my bed with my phone and took the liberty to program his number on it. This was bordering on creepy. And cute. I mentally rolled my eyes at myself.

  Bypassing pleasantries, I snapped, “How did you figure out my password?”

  Levi’s chuckle caused a tickle in my belly that I didn’t expect. “Veronica, one, two, three, four wasn’t a genius password. You should change it.”

  “I never thought I needed a reason to. What do you want?”

  “What happened to the Sweet Veronica I woke up to this morning?”

  There it was. All the proof I needed that Levi had sent me the flowers. Sweet Veronica. And here I was thinking that a trip to Paris had changed Jake to what Diego called “old school romantic,” sending me a large bouquet of flowers, and making my heart skip a beat. I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed.

  “Veronica? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah…no…” I stammered. “Could you please let me know what you want? I have to go back to my date.”

  If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a loud gasp on the other line, right before he asked, “A date? What date? With whom?”

  “None of your business, Levi.”

  “It is my business.”

  “Why?” I propped a hand on my hip, leaning against the vanity.

  “Because…” I waited for a few beats for the rest of his reply. “Of Jake. And Sandrine. You’re their wedding planner.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on their wedding instead of going out on dates?”

  “Are you freaking kidding me? Levi, can you hear yourself? This conversation is ridiculous. I’m hanging up.”

  “Wait! No. Veronica…” The way he said my name did something weird to my chest. I held my breath, anticipating to hear what he would say next. “What time are you done your date?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it won’t end tonight. Maybe it will continue tomorrow morning.”

  There was no mistaking it. Lev
i sighed heavily on the phone. I felt bad. I was implying I’d do something that I didn’t usually do on first dates, not counting Jake…or him. Not that what Levi and I had last night resembled a date.

  I was about to apologize when he spoke. “If it ends soon, can you give me a call and we can finish what we started this morning? I’d like a repeat of last night.”

  I gasped, and my cheeks reddened. “Jerk! You don’t deserve another chance with me. You shouldn’t have had that chance at all. I was drunk, and you took advantage. I don’t sleep with guys like you, Levi.”

  “What kind of guy am I?”

  “A man-whore.” As soon as I said it out loud, I regretted it, but I couldn’t take it back.

  “Well, you’re wrong. You came on to me, Veronica. Apparently, you like man-whores.”

  “I hate you.” I hung up and threw my phone back into my purse. When I returned to the table, I was still shaking, and Diego noted it right away.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s the flower guy. You’re wrong.” Short of stomping my feet, I slumped in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. Yeah, I pouted too.

  “Wrong about what? Jake didn’t send them.”

  “No, Levi did. He wasn’t a romantic. He’s a big butthole.”

  Diego laughed, and it was so contagious that I had to laugh too, even if it was at my expense. At times like these, all we could do was laugh. If not, I’d be on my knees crying at how bizarre my “love” life had turned into.

  After saying goodbye to the staff, Diego and I walked out of La Mer the same way we came in, with my arm wrapped around his.

  There was a chill in the air, and it smelled like rain. I snuggled closer to Diego, and he kept me warm. It felt like I’d found a new friend. A new hot and sexy friend. If only I were the type of girl who kept friends with benefits.

  “Thank you for the lovely night,” I told him when we stood in front of my apartment door.

  “I had a great time too.” He squeezed my hand and raised it to his lips. “It’s just my luck that I met you at the wrong time.”

  I could say I was sorry, that I wished I met him at a better time. But I thought this was a good time. Diego was perfect. Too perfect to be a rebound. With all the confusion surrounding me, it was unfair for a wonderful man like him to be involved with someone like me.

  S e ven

  The Cake

  Normally, an appointment with the baker would have taken place at least six months before the wedding day, especially if said baker was the cream of the crop. We had a few weeks.

  Lucky for Jake and Sandrine—who wanted only the best—I was connected to the best. Eddie was the renaissance man of cakes and pastries, and he made wedding cakes like no other.

  In college, I had taken summer and night jobs to help out with my fees and basic life needs. Eddie had hired me on the spot; once I had proved that I was Queen of OCD, to sort out his disorganized mess. I had worked with him tirelessly until I had graduated. He had been a great employer, but what was more important was that he had become my family, and he treated me like the daughter he never had.

  These days, Eddie's bakery was consistently busy, and his wife of three years, Nancy, was the one who kept him together. His reputation had flourished, and he only took four wedding cake orders every year. Jake and Sandrine's was the exceptional fifth.

  "Hi, Eddie," I greeted the larger-than-life man behind the display counter as I entered the bright, clean and kitschy shop.

  Eddie's eyes popped. "Baby girl!" He rounded the case and wrapped me in a teddy bear hug. "How's my darling girl doing?"

  "Eddie, I spoke to you on the phone yesterday." I rolled my eyes as he pouted. "But I'm fine. Surviving this heat."

  "Fine? That's not what I heard. Heard you're dating again." Eddie's arms straightened as he held me away from him so that he could train his eyes on me.

  I scoffed. "Where'd you hear that?" I twirled the end of my ponytail with my fingers, avoiding his gaze.

  Eddie's eyebrows knitted together.

  "The Amazonian. And she also ordered me to give you as many goodies as I possibly can. She said you lost weight, and it sure looks like it." His eyes scanned me up and down. He knew that I'd never been one to be too concerned about my weight.

  I dislodged myself from him and huffed. "Everyone needs to calm down. My weight should not be something to gossip about. I'm fine. I'm healthy. I'm exercising."

  "Ah." Eddie chuckled. "But you are dating again. Who’s the lucky guy?"

  My mouth fell to the floor. Damn Chase and her big mouth! My phone buzzed in my purse, and I took it as a chance to escape what could turn into twenty questions. I fished it out and answered hurriedly, "You've reached Veronica."

  "Nica! Oh good. Are you at Eddie's?" Jake rushed the words out.

  "Yeah, I am."

  "Sandrine's very ill. She's been throwing up all night, and I just got called in at the hospital. "

  "Oh, well, don't worry. I'm sure I can reschedule." I wasn't taking crap from them, as they had valid reasons.

  "No!" he said quickly. "I've sent someone else so you won't have to do it alone."

  I tried to protest, but he wouldn't let me. "I trust you implicitly. So does Sandrine. I'm sorry, Nica, but I have to go. Don't worry. He has a discerning palate." More voices filled the line, as people began directing Jake and giving him more information. I could imagine the chaos surrounding him.

  Wait, he? Did he say 'he'?

  "Jake? Jake, who'd you send?" But his phone had already disconnected.

  The ring at the door signaled an entry into the bakery. I didn't need an answer from Jake once I turned toward the front, right in time to witness Levi sauntering in, with his hotter than hot sauce looks and a killer, Cheshire-cat grin.

  But he didn't. Come. Alone.

  With claws wrapped around Levi's left arm, a woman strutted beside him in six-inch fuchsia heels. She flipped a chunk of platinum blond hair over her left shoulder as they stopped in front of me.

  The fast and furious hammering of my heart threatened to rip my chest apart. This was the first time I’d set my eyes on Levi since waking up next to him. And he had the gall to show up with a twinset of double Ds?

  "Well, lookie what we got here," Eddie piped up behind me.

  I immediately had plans to kill Jake the next time I saw him.

  "I guess you're the replacement," I spoke to Levi, careful not to inflect my tone.

  I wished he would take off his gosh-darned wayfarers so I could look him in the eyes. The hot bastard shrugged and wiped the grin off his face. He was lucky that a marble top, bar-height table separated us, or I would be tempted to shake him senseless.

  I cleared my throat as I made introductions. "Levi," his name sounded foreign on my tongue, "this is Eddie Stone, owner, baker, artiste. Eddie, this is Levi, Jake's best man...and his guest." I waved my hand between them.

  "Pleasure," was all Levi offered. I waited for him to tell us what his date's name was, but he never did.

  I stared at the woman. Her hand made its way to Levi's chest, and she started circling a manicured finger over his blue Oxford shirt. Her boobs pressed against his arm. A hiss escaped my mouth. I gripped my phone as I thought of the best way to escape this situation.

  As soon as Levi started a conversation with Eddie about the bakery, I stealthily tapped a text to Chase and tagged it 911. Several seconds later, my phone vibrated in my hand.

  "Excuse me. I better get this." I didn't wait for their acknowledgments. I ran to the back of the bakery, through double-swing doors, and watched the horror through the one-way glass in front of me. I had a good view of the storefront. Of Levi and his date.

  "Chase! I need your help!" I rapidly expressed, my voice shaking.

  "Nica? Calm down, what's going on?"

  "Chase, he's here."

  "Who?"

  I narrowed my eyes at the people behind the mirror. "Levi."

  Chase went silent, then said, "So? He
’s the best man."

  "Yeah but Jake and Sandrine couldn’t come so they sent Levi over. He's not alone," I stated, eyeing the boob-popping blond beside him.

  "Why is this a problem? What does she look like?"

  "Porn star. I can't even call what she's wearing a dress. It's tight, it's white, and I think Eddie can see her nipples through it."

  Chase sucked in a breath. "Bastard."

  "You have to get me outta here, Chase. This has bad written all over it. Bad."

  "Nica, it’s only Levi. Just ignore them. Stuff your face with cake and choose."

  "Only Levi? Chase, you don’t understand…I…it’s more complicated than that.” I gripped the phone harder.

  "Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No!”

  “Then why are you acting all weird? You've worked so hard to be able to stand up to other people. Levi is other people. Stand up to him."

  "Oh my god!" D-cups slid her hand beneath Levi's shirt. "She's feeling him up! In front of Eddie! I think she's pinching his nipple. Oh, I'm gonna throw up." I didn't like what I was seeing, but I couldn't look away.

  Chase hissed. "Stop! Go out there and face them. Square your shoulders. Stick out your tatas and sashay those hips.”

  “You have to help me, Chase. Please.”

  It took an entire minute before she replied, “I'll figure something out. Don't worry."

  "Fine. But hurry. I think they're ready to start making a porn film on the counter!"

  "I'll hurry." Chase rang off.

  I held onto my phone and sucked in my panic. Exhaled. Inhaled. With the next exhale, I rolled my shoulders back, lengthened my neck, stuck my nose in the air, and made sure my B-cups fit properly in my new demi cup lace bra. For good measure, I undid the first two buttons of my peach blouse to show off a bit of cleavage, and fixed my white belt, cinched at my waist. My clothes weren't designer duds--the 1960's June Cleaver floral circle skirt I was wearing was a vintage find. I opted for cute and comfortable. Not tight and porn star chic.