1
Susie
“I do.”
Cue the flutter of applause, the loud cheers, and the wet-eye sniffles. Under the arbor, the couple smiles as their lips meet. With a single kiss, bride and groom become husband and wife. One perfect, beautiful moment.
This is what I live for. No matter how many weddings I plan meticulously, from proposal to after-party, there is something uniquely special about the moment when a bride and groom share their first kiss. For just a second, all the pain and tears, all the doubting mothers and wardrobe malfunctions and drunk Uncle Larrys—all of it is worth it. Just like that, all of my hard work culminates into a lifelong bond between two people.
True love. It’s a beautiful thing, and even now, attending my forty-seventh wedding, I’m a sucker for it. The bride and groom break their kiss and linger in the moment, forehead to forehead, grinning from ear to ear. The groom—Patrick Taylor—owns a men’s fashion line, and you better believe the groom’s side looks like a runway spread.
The bride, Sandy McClure, is a nobody from nowhere any other day, but today she’s the sun around which everyone orbits. She’s decked out in this beautiful Vera Wang, he’s in one of his own smartly tailored tuxedos, and they look fit for a wedding cake. This wedding is about as high profile as it gets, with cameras flashing on either side of the procession. Tomorrow, the tabloids will wax poetic about the romantic retreat tucked away under the Manhattan skyline—the arbor entwined with hydrangeas, the pearly white décor stitched with powder blue, and the caviar and canapé appetizers served on silver platters. Punctuating the frilly descriptions will be a plug about how none of this would be possible were it not for Everlasting Love, boutique wedding planning—that is, if Letty Prichard has a say in it, and Letty Prichard has a say in everything.
Letty stands beside me in the back row as we watch the wedding unfold. Outdoor weddings are a nightmare to pull together, but when the sun shines just right through the trees and the swans dance lazy circles in the lake behind the couple, it gets me misty-eyed. I discreetly dab the corner of my eye with a napkin embroidered with the couple’s initials.
Even Letty is crying. I’m touched. Letty Prichard, in her own words, has a heart made of ice. She’s the only one who can get away with wearing black to a wedding. Letty is in her midforties and as fierce as they come; today, she’s sporting a dark bob with an edge so straight it looks like it was cut with a single swipe of an axe. I’ve never seen her actually get emotional at a wedding before, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it now, so I ask, “Letty, are you okay?”
“It’s over,” she weeps, tears falling through her laughter. “It’s finally over.”
I’m sandwiched between Letty and her lead planner, Thom. He is quiet in his perfectly tailored navy suit, his eyes darting like a hawk’s hunting for the slightest imperfection in his design. I nudge him with my elbow, and he leans over to bridge the foot-and-a-half-size gap between us.
“The setup was that bad, huh?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” he groans under his breath. His voice is smooth and velvety and topped with a posh British accent that makes it sound like he’s reading off the dessert menu. Of course, like all men I find attractive, he’s woefully unattainable—utterly and proudly gay.
Thom nods to the stage. “The circus isn’t quite over yet.”
My skin tingles all over. It physically hurts to keep myself from jumping in the fray with them. Thom’s eyes lock on me, and I’m sure he can see my struggle. He’s always been able to see right through me. He bumps me with his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready to make a comeback?”
“I couldn’t be readier.”
Thom side-eyes me suspiciously. “Ace is…?”
“Gone with the wind. It’s over between us. I’ve closed that chapter.”
“Right.” Thom does not sound convinced. “So no boys?”
I hold up my palms. “No boys.”
“They make you insane,” he huffs. “Hunting for your precious Prince Charming like bloody King Arthur looking for the Holy Grail, waving Excalibur around.”
“I don’t come at them with a sword.” I squint at him. “It doesn’t matter anyway. This gal is flying sane and solo.”
“That’s my girl.” Thom gives me a playful pat on the rear, which makes me squeak with surprise.
“Uh…Miss Prichard?” We all hear the hesitant voice as it crackles in from the Letty’s handheld radio. “There’s a…situation.”
Letty’s tears stop instantly. She unhooks her radio from her belt and speaks into it. “What situation?”
“The birds won’t uh…release.”
“They’re birds, Marlee. Poke them with a damn stick.”
I squint over the gaudy hats and too-tall hairdos before I see her. Marlee, all double french braids and Little-House-on-the-Prairie-chic, is crouched at the edge of the stage holding an open cage with two birds inside of it. She’s trying to wave them out, but they just flutter and pace anxiously at the back of the cage.
“But they peck,” Marlee whines.
“They’re about to step off the procession. Now or never, Marlee!” Letty barks into the radio.
“Let me help,” I plead.
Letty shoots me a glare that nearly turns me into one of the ice sculptures. “Don’t you dare. Don’t make me remind you that you’re still benched. No one touches a single tassel until I tell them to, understood?”
Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eyes, I see Marlee shake the cage roughly. The doves flutter around frantically and burst out. They don’t quite make it to the beautiful arc through the sky, however; instead, they flop around, confused. One manages to get caught under a bridesmaid’s umbrella dress, causing the woman to flail and shriek, while the second bird topples onto the pastor’s bible and wing-slaps him before it rockets up into the sky.
Letty swears and jumps into action immediately. “I want those birds quartered and shot and served up for dinner!” she snaps. “Thom! I need you now!”
“Pardon me,” Thom says as he retreats with a wink. “I’ve got pigeons to kill.”
“Make it painless!” I joke back, knowing full well Thom couldn’t hurt a fruit fly. Before he dashes off, however, I grab his arm. “And Thom…get the band going.”
He knits his eyebrows. “They’ve already finished their set.”
“Tell them to improvise.”
The idea catches up with him, and his eyes light up. “You’re a genius.” His eyes crinkle with quiet amusement. “It’s good to have you back. Welcome back to the madhouse, darling,”
“You’re not kidding.” I watch as chaos erupts on stage as Letty snaps at Marlee, who chases the birds around while the bridesmaid cries.
It takes them less than a minute to scare away the pigeons and redirect everyone’s attention to the brassy boom of the band. That’s because Letty and her Everlasting Love team are the best wedding planners in the business.
It takes an army to bring two people together. I’m part of that army. At least I was, until I took a mental health break for the better part of last year. But I’m back in the business—recently reenlisted, so to speak. That is, if Letty will have me back.