Chapter One
In the seven months Olivia Grant had worked at Emerald City Events as an assistant event coordinator, she had encountered her fair share of odd demands. But the Roberts’ stipulation that their wedding menu be lacto-ovo-pescatarian-vegetarian and Keto-friendly was a new one.
“OTP? What the hell is that?”
“The dating app? One True Pairing? What rock have you been living under?”
Olivia drained the dregs of her tea, which had long gone cold, and tried to tune out her coworkers’ chitchat.
“Uh, I’ve been married for twenty-five years?” Naomi said.
“That’s no excuse. Their ads are everywhere. Come on. I bet even Olivia knows what I’m talking about.”
“Hmm?” Olivia finished skimming the email from the caterer for the Roberts’ wedding—which mostly amounted to confusion and consternation about what the hell he was supposed to serve—before lowering the screen of her laptop. She’d commiserate with him later. “Sorry, even I know what?”
Kira, marketing director at Emerald City Events, leaned her chin on her hand. “OTP. Please tell me you’ve heard of it.”
Olivia shrugged. “Sure. Hasn’t everyone?”
Kira shot Naomi a pointed look and smirked. “See?”
“And like I said”—Naomi wiggled her left hand, the platinum wedding band gleaming against her deep brown skin—“married.”
“So was Liv.”
The tan line on Olivia’s ring finger had faded months ago, unlike the habit she had of running her thumb along the space where her wedding ring had once rested. She tucked her hand under her thigh and smiled. “I thought you were seeing that barista. What’s her name? Blake?”
“Oh, totally. Strictly secondhand knowledge of the app on my part. I’ve got a cousin who met their boyfriend on the app, but that’s it.” Kira grinned at Naomi. “But at least I know about it.”
“OOC, OTP, AO3, PWP, you kids and your abbreviations.” Naomi tutted. “You wanna know the only three-letter acronym I give a damn about?” She tapped the pin on her lapel and grinned. “COO, thank you very much.”
Kira crowed in delight. “PWP? Naomi, you naughty girl, what have you been reading?”
Olivia hid her smile behind her fingers.
Utterly unabashed, Naomi shrugged one shoulder. “I like what I like.”
“I’ve got another three-letter acronym for you.” Kira swiveled her chair from side to side, in time with each letter she listed. “VIP.”
She waited for the punch line, for Kira or Naomi to expound on what those three letters meant in the context of their conversation. “Who’s a VIP?”
Emerald City Events, Seattle’s premier events management company, catered to a variety of clientele, from street festivals to nonprofits to Fortune 500 tech companies. Olivia had yet to help with an event for any of their higher-profile clients, but she knew they existed.
“Brendon Lowell,” Kira said. “Owner and creator of OTP.”
That explained why Kira and Naomi were discussing the dating app.
“Does he want to hire us for an event?”
“Mm-hmm. His wedding.” Kira leaned her elbows on her desk. “Lori’s upstairs having kittens.”
Olivia frowned. “Shouldn’t Lori be thrilled?”
“She would be,” Naomi said. “If he hadn’t called her last-minute.”
Oh. “Shotgun wedding?” She wrinkled her nose. “Do people still call them that? I mean, do people even care?”
“You’re the one who grew up in BFE, Liv. You tell me.” Kira snickered, sobering quickly. “Sorry, it’s really not funny. Brendon Lowell had plans to get married over on the Olympic Peninsula. The venue was all-inclusive—event planner, catering, DJ, decorations, cake, the whole shebang offered in-house. Sounds great, right?”
Call it a hunch, but Olivia was going to go with no.
“Apparently there was a fire at the venue yesterday. Extensive damage to the rental house and ceremony space. They’ve canceled all events through the end of the year.” Kira grimaced. “Lowell got a full refund on his deposit, obviously, but they’re starting from scratch with three weeks until the big day. Guests have already booked flights, so they’re pretty adamant about not changing the date.”
Three weeks was less than ideal, but it was doable. With the right budget, Olivia could probably plan a wedding in half that time. Money talked, and it opened doors. Facts of life. “Lori could pull it off.”
“Lori could pull it off if she weren’t already booked that day,” Naomi said, brows rising. “Hell, she’ll still pull it off, even if it kills her. She’s upstairs, trying to figure out how to break it to her other client that she’s going to miss their big day.”
“Lori’s had me step in before.”
Kira’s lips drew to the side. “Yeah, except the other client? It’s her daughter.”
Olivia’s jaw dropped. “Lori’s going to skip her own daughter’s wedding?”
“Mm-hmm.” Naomi pursed her lips. “VIP.”
“The Seattle Times is covering the Lowell wedding for the Vows section,” Kira explained. “It could be huge for ECE. Lori doesn’t want to miss out on that.”
And she didn’t have to.
“I can do it.”
Kira and Naomi stared.
“What? I can.” Olivia stood and smoothed down the front of her skirt. “I’m going to go talk to Lori.”
This was her chance to prove herself, the break she had been waiting for, hoping for since she’d packed up her Subaru and left Enumclaw eight months ago.
A look passed between Kira and Naomi before Naomi dropped her eyes. “Good luck.”
Despite her blustering, Olivia had a feeling she was going to need all the luck she could get.
Emerald City Events was located out of a charming two-story Craftsman in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle. Lori’s office encompassed most of the sprawling upstairs, the whole place extensively renovated and open concept.
Lori’s desk was visible from the top of the stairs, but she wasn’t seated behind it. Instead, she stood in front of the window, forehead pressed to the rain-splattered glass, shoulders hunched. Usually, Lori was the pinnacle of calm, cool collectedness, unflappable under pressure. For her, this was practically a breakdown.
Olivia rapped her knuckles against the wall. “Knock, knock. I, uh, heard there’s a bit of a scheduling fiasco?”
Lori’s spine straightened as she lifted her head, stepping away from the window. She turned and smiled, all teeth and faux brightness, her eyes hardly creasing at the corners. “No fiasco. I trust you completely.”
Olivia’s heart tripped over the next beat.
“Sasha will be in great hands on the day of her wedding.”
Sasha. Lori’s daughter, Sasha. Olivia wasn’t sure whether to take that as the world’s highest compliment or greatest insult, Lori entrusting Olivia with her daughter’s wedding when there was another solution, right there, staring her straight in the face.
Olivia clasped her hands together loosely and crossed the room, stopping beside Lori. “Or.”