by Daria White
The Wedding Report
(A Sweet Romance Novel)
The Wedding Report
Daria White
Copyright © Daria White 2020
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this eBook may be copied or sold. This eBook is fiction. All characters, locations, and situations are purely fictional, coincidental, and for entertainment only.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as fact. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Stay in Touch
Thank You from Daria
The Wedding Report
(A Sweet Romance Novel)
Chapter 1
Today was the day. Chantelle’s boss and editor wanted to meet with her in the next five minutes. Was she fired? No way. She was one of the best reporters at The Wedding Report. Was Brenda Wilcox going to tell her she had more freedom with her stories?
Chantelle didn’t mind profiling weddings. She loved getting to know the brides and grooms, but she could write on deeper issues. What if the magazine did a line of relationship advice?
Or had readers write in with their questions? Not much growth to look forward to at a wedding magazine, but at least Chantelle had a job. Running her own newspaper or magazine was far-fetched. Soon.
She checked the time on her phone. Better to be early than late. Chantelle’s stomach rolled. She peeped through the glass and knocked on Brenda’s door.
“Come in,” Brenda said.
Chantelle shut the door behind her. Her heeled shoes muffled against the carpet, and she sat in the cushioned chair in front of Brenda’s cherry wooden desk.
Her boss tapped on her tablet. “We have a new story and I want you to write it.”
Chantelle’s lips quirked into a smile. Thank goodness. Another opportunity to prove her skills. “Great. Thank you. Who is it this time?”
Brenda turned her tablet to face her. “Looks like Lance Taylor has given up bachelorhood. He’s marrying Andrea Williams.”
Chantelle blinked. Seeing Lance on the screen made her swallow. Ten years. They hadn’t spoken. Not since that fateful night. She sighed. Why did her ex have to be the groom? Chantelle scooted to the edge of her seat. Her lips parted.
“You want me to write the story?” Was this a joke? She didn’t dare to turn around in case there was a camera.
Brenda’s forehead furrowed. “I thought you’d be excited, Chantelle. You’ve proven yourself here. This will expand your profile as a writer. The Wedding Report shares tips for brides to be, but this story will expand our audience even more. We’ve profiled weddings before, but we know Lance Taylor for being single and successful. It’s gold. You’re lucky that you grew up in this town.”
“But?”
Brenda raised an eyebrow.
Chantelle cleared her throat. “Yes, I grew up there, but this story, I think—”
“You’re one of my best. If you want to pass on it, then fine, but I think it is the break you’ve been waiting for.” Brenda sat back in her seat.
Chantelle rubbed at her neck. Her career had been her focus for the past few years. She’d work too hard to let personal feelings get in the way. Not today. She could do it. Enough time had passed. Her hand then traveled to her stomach. “I’ll do it.”
“Good, because it’s in one month.”
Her eyes widened. “That soon.”
Brenda nodded. “It took us a while, but they finally agreed to the story. Lance’s fiancé is overseas. I’m sure you’re familiar with Andrea’s career as a model and according to the press, they don’t want a long engagement. Didn’t you read the article in People?”
Chantelle avoided the article. Why would she want to read about her ex? Some women stalked their exes, but she wouldn’t. It was over. “I think I missed that story.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She tapped her fingers on her tablet. “You’ll be spending most of your time with the groom and his family. His fiancé…” Brenda then handed her tablet to Chantelle. “Andrea Williams is an only child, twenty-nine, and in Greece.”
Chantelle stared at the screen. This was happening. Her knee bobbed up and down.
“Chantelle? Are you alright?” Brenda asked.
“I’m great.” She handed her boss back her tablet.
Brenda opened her laptop. “Now remember, you have one month to finish the article. Keep me up to date.” Her boss tilted her head to the side, her full lashes framing her sky-blue eyes. “Now we’re not a gossip column, but if you think we need to know something, don’t hold back.”
“Expose them?”
Her boss dismissed her comment with a wave. “Not expose. The public needs to know if there’s anything suspicious. You grew up there, so Delta Heights has the small town reputation of being family friendly and a tight-knit community. Just keep your eyes open.”
“I’ll do my best.” Chantelle stood. Exiting her boss’ office, she returned to her cubicle. Soft-siding dividing walls, and a nameplate stood fastened on her wall. Sitting in her roller desk chair, she bit her bottom lip.
“Okay, I have tuna on rye bread,” a melodious voice said.
Chantelle didn’t respond as her friend, Cameron, placed a takeout bag on her desk.
“What happened? You didn’t get fired?” her friend asked.
“No, but I’m wondering if that’s not a better option.” Chantelle opened the bag and grabbed her sandwich.
“So... what?”
“I’m profiling the Taylor wedding.”
“No way!” Cameron grinned. “Lance Taylor? He is… well… he’s… gorgeous.” Her friend paused. “Wait a minute? You grew up in Delta Heights.”
Chantelle nodded. She bit into her sandwich and chewed despite her dry mouth. She forced herself to swallow.
Cameron’s mouth opened. “You knew Lance, didn’t you? Delta Heights is not that big of a town.”
“I knew him alright.” Chantelle didn’t mind sharing her past with her frien
d, but she didn’t go into details about her history with Lance.
Cameron clapped her hands. “This could be it, Chantelle! You got the big story.”
Chantelle forced a smile. Her mind repeated writing the story as a good idea. Why did she have a hard time believing it?
“How about we go out tonight? Have some fun,” Cameron said.
“I’d rather go home.”
Cameron shook her head. “I disagree. I can tell you need to get out.”
Chantelle stared at her friend. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise.” Cameron grinned.
***
Chantelle admired the green space with lakefront parks to the east. She loved the gorgeous scenery from the second floor of her apartment and the lush foliage. Going through the iron gate, she climbed up the concrete steps of the brick building. Entering her abode, she placed her keys in the basket.
Blowing out her cheeks, she proceeded to her open concept kitchen. In her refrigerator, she grabbed her leftover homemade mac and cheese, grateful her mother taught her how to cook. Grabbing the Tupperware container, she transferred the cheesy elbow noodles to her plate.
Chantelle placed her plate in the microwave to heat her snack. Pacing her vinyl floors, she rubbed at her chest. She would return to her hometown in Delta Heights, Texas, and stay for the rest of the month leading up to Lance Taylor’s wedding. She would interview his fiancé. Chantelle carried her heated plate over to her small table, despite her fidgety hands.
Her fingers tingled along with her toes. Be in the same room with the man who broke her heart? Chantelle had to. She’d already agreed.
Brenda had expectations, and she expected Chantelle to follow through and write an interesting article. Swallowing a bite from her plate, she heard a knock at her door. Giving a slight smile, she answered to greet her neighbor Mr. Freemont, who reminded her of the well-known actor Morgan Freeman. The older gentleman held up another book in his hand.
Chantelle focused her eyes to read the title. “Crime and Punishment?”
“Another classic,” he said with a wink.
She accepted it with a nod and grabbed the small journal from the side table next to her front door. She handed it to Mr. Freemont. “Tell your wife thank you for the recipe for the mac and cheese.”
“If you make it like she does, you’ll land you a husband any day now,” he replied, taking the journal in hand.
“Thank you, but not holding my breath,” she joked. “Besides, I’m good on my own.”
“You’re beautiful with a good heart. The men in your generation need to come to their senses.” Mr. Freemont added.
If only they saw her for more than her looks. Chantelle swallowed and smiled. “I hope they do too.”
He winked and waved goodbye. Chantelle closed the door after him.
Walking back to her seat, she resumed her meal. Perhaps she could ask Brenda for a transfer. Sure, she worked hard to prove herself, but this was asking too much. Grabbing her buzzing phone, Chantelle spotted a number with no name. She recognized it despite deleting it a month ago. Why was Bryce calling?
“Yes.” Chantelle answered.
“Hey,” his baritone voice said.
“I have a busy day, so I can’t talk long.”
“Are you okay?”
If only he wasn’t sweet about it. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I am sorry, Chantelle. I didn’t mean half the things I said. I hate the way things ended.”
She rubbed at her forehead. “I’m sorry too.”
“You think we can still be friends?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
“I can’t do that, Bryce,” Chantelle said.
“I understand. I wish you the best of luck.”
“You too.”
She hung up and resumed her mac and cheese. Another failure. Chantelle would have to start over. Did she want to? Wasn’t one divorce under her belt enough to deal with? She held up her fork to her mouth, only to hear persistent knocks on her apartment door. Only Cameron was that tenacious, so Chantelle opened the door to her friend.
“You’re not dressed?” Cameron asked with widened eyes.
“Can a girl eat first?” She joked back and grabbed her plate to wash it in the sink. “Where are we going?”
“Eataly.” Cameron replied. “We can then hang out downtown.”
Chantelle cocked her head to the side. “That place is thirty minutes away.”
“My treat, Chantelle. After everything that happened with…”
She sighed. “You can say Bryce’s name. He called.”
“No.” Cameron’s mouth fell open.
“Yep.” Placing a hand on her hip, a night on the town in Chicago didn’t sound too bad as she thought. “I’ll go.”
Cameron clapped her hands as Chantelle sauntered to her room to change clothes.
Chapter 2
Lance Taylor adjusted the volume on his phone. He wasn’t a fan of FaceTime, but since he hadn’t seen his fiancé since their engagement announcement, he made an exception since she was overseas. He preferred the town of Delta Heights. Lance couldn’t wait to smell the yeasty bread from the bakery or the hamburgers cooking from the diner.
“What’s up with the beard?” Andrea asked.
Lance rubbed at his facial hair. “You don’t like it, Babe? Thought I’d try something new.”
She giggled. “Oh you. That’s why I love you. Stepping outside the box. I can get used to it.”
“How’s Greece?”
“One word, gorgeous. I’ll send you some pictures when I get the chance.”
“And the photo shoot?” he asked.
“I love it. We took a break, but I’m due for another round of hair and makeup soon. I would love a nap right now.”
“Why don’t you? Sounds simple to me. Tell them you want to take a longer break,” he said.
Andrea tilted her head to the side on the screen. “This is my job. I don’t tell you—”
“It was only a suggestion.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s wrong? You never FaceTime me?”
“Wanted to see you.”
She bounced in her chair. “I can’t believe we’ll be featured in The Wedding Report. Can you believe it? We’re the next power couple, Lance.”
Staring at the signs from the ceiling directing passengers to different areas of the airport, Lance’s mind wandered from his conversation with Andrea. His eyes later diverted to large digital monitors displaying flight departures and arrival times, and he further watched janitorial employees pushing cleaning trolleys. Each gate had mass seating, and motorized carts helped disabled and limited-mobile passengers to get around.
He took a sip from his black coffee. Why did their wedding need to be profiled? They were not special people. He was just a boy raised in a small town and grew up to work in his father’s law firm.
“Lance, are you listening to me?” Andrea interrupted his thoughts.
“I’m listening.”
“What did I say?”
“You’re… excited about the article,” he answered.
“And?”
“That’s the basis of it, right?”
“Babe?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. They delayed my flight because of the severe thunderstorms. I’m flying back to Delta Heights later this afternoon. I hope to get some work done at the office since I have another flight out again later tonight.”
“You didn’t take the family jet? You’re a millionaire, remember? That would save you all that wait time.” Andrea pointed out.
“I don’t mind flying coach. I get to meet interesting people.”
“They’re interesting people in first class too. I mean think of your—”
“My what? Reputation?” He rubbed the back of his neck, noticing her down turned mouth. “I get enough of that from my parents so don’t start, please.”
She raised her hand in a surrendered gesture. “Sorry if I hit a nerve. I didn’t me
an to upset you.”
“No, I shouldn’t have snapped.”
Though Andrea was high maintenance, she had a good heart. He didn’t mind the mom-and-pop restaurants of his hometown, people watchers on benches while on lunch breaks, and how people chatted with friends as they walked. He enjoyed the old-fashioned home-cooked meals and didn’t mind the simple things in life. Andrea, however, lived for the spotlight. He couldn’t blame her since she’d been modeling since she was in high school.
“I have to go Lance. Call me later?” she said.
“No problem. I’ll call you when I get home.”
She blew him a kiss from her full lips. “I love you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I love you too. Have fun on your shoot.”
“I’m sending pictures. I think this is where I want to spend our honeymoon.”
“I thought we decided on Egypt?”
“We’ll discuss it later. I have to go.” From there she ended the call, and all Lance saw was a blank screen.
***
Traditional but modern described the office of Lawrence and Taylor’s Commercial Law building. Oversized leather chairs, wooden shelves, and framed artwork filled the office space. The conference room followed the receptionist area while large windows gave an exterior view along with bringing in natural light.
Lance’s office held two leather cushioned seats for his clients, and he took a seat behind his mahogany wooden desk in his rolling office chair. He didn’t waste time getting to work after arriving from the airport. Even though he felt the heaviness in his limbs after flying in from Los Angeles, he had work to finish.
Despite his last name on the marquee for the town to see, everyone knew it meant his father. His father, whose clients’ net worth ranged from a quarter of a million to one billion dollars. Delta Heights knew his father was an exceptional deal maker.
His fingers grazed his lips for a moment. Lance could have lived closer to downtown, but he needed space from his parents. They had enough to say about his life growing up, so having his own place was much needed. So, he bought his home a few miles on the opposite side of town.