Diary of a Single Wedding Planner (Tales Behind the Veils Book 1) (10 page)

Saturday, October 26th

So I guess in all fairness, I should say Charlotte didn’t
ruin
the wedding today. I don’t think she’ll be making senior planner any time soon, but it could have been much worse.

First, she poked herself while pinning on the groomsmen’s boutonnieres. Not like a little pin prick where you say ouch and keep working. She gouged her finger and bled on the groomsman’s shirt. A big, bloody spot right up front and center just below his bow tie. How one does that while pinning a flower on a lapel, I don’t even know, but she did.

Then she forgot to give the best man the rings. Which I know I should have double-checked, but I handed them to her and said, “Go give these to the best man.” He was in the next room. I kind of thought she could handle that without follow up. My bad. So that was a first for me—walking down the aisle in the middle of the ceremony to hand my clients their rings. Not cool.

I sent her to the reception site with instructions to put the toasting glasses on the head table, the cake knife and server on the cake table, and the place cards in alphabetical order on the marble table outside the dinner room. I realize in hindsight it may have been a bit much to expect, but they were all pretty simple tasks. Or so I thought.

I arrived at the reception site mere minutes before the guests and found the place cards in random-ass lines on the marble table with no uniformity and no thought given to presentation. Okay, my bad. I should have given more specific directions and suggested she make it look nice. I thought the fact it was someone’s wedding might make that an unstated goal, but evidently not.

Then I noticed they were not all in alphabetical order. Charlotte came be-bopping out of the dinner room as I was freaking out trying to fix the cards.

“Charlotte! The guests will be here any minute, and the place cards are not in order!”

“Yes, they are! They were wrapped in rubber bands by table, so I put them out that way. I know you said put them in alphabetical order, but I didn’t know if you meant by last name or first name. Then some said “guest” so I did a whole row of G’s over here. Whoever is a guest can get theirs from that row.”

“Charlotte, the people don’t know what table they are seated at, so they won’t know which table to look for. And the guests of the guests won’t have any idea whose card is whose to look for table numbers . . . oh, never mind. Scoop up all these cards, and we’ll put them on a table inside the dinner room. They have to be in alphabetical order by last name so when people walk up, they look for their name
in order
to find out which table to go to.”

I gritted my teeth before entering the dinner room, half expecting it to be a disaster from her presence alone. Oh, sweet relief to see all the tables set, the DJ in place, and the cake on its stand (without daisies). I exhaled and headed to the head table to check the toasting glasses.

It wasn’t hard to find them. They were on the table between the bride and groom’s chairs. Still in the box. Still wrapped in plastic bubble wrap. Price tags still on the bottom.

To be fair, all I told Charlotte was to put the toasting glasses on the head table. I never said, “Take them out of the freakin’ box, unwrap them, rinse them out, take off the price tags, put the box away.” Silly me. Who knew I was such an inept manager??? It’s funny how you assume people will figure things out when they seem like simple concepts.

After frantically unwrapping and washing the toasting glasses, I made my way over to the cake table to find exactly what I expected at that point. The cake knife and server were still wrapped up in tissue paper inside their box on the table. Although, I must say she added a flower beside the box. I guess I should give her an A for creativity. But seriously?? Did she expect the bride and groom to unwrap their toasting glasses in order to toast each other and then unwrap their cake knife and server in order to slice the cake and feed each other?

I tried to remind myself about a giddy little planner who sent the carriage at the wrong time, but surely this was different. My mistake had been a lack of knowledge about the process. Which I guess is technically still ignorance, but this had to be a different level of ignorant.

Oh, well. The bride and groom were happy. That’s all that matters, right?

Sunday, October 27th

Melanie and I had a ten o’clock ceremony this morning with a brunch afterward. No special dances, no cake cutting, no open bar. A laid-back, everybody-happy, small affair with an older bride and groom and thirty of their closest friends. We were done by noon, so we headed over to see Carmen and the baby. She asked us to bring her a cheeseburger and fries, and you would’ve thought we brought her gold bars as excited as she got over her quarter pounder with cheese. Mel went straight for Lila, as always. All babies love Mel. The woman is a baby whisperer. I hate that she and Paul were never able to have one of their own. It kills her.

“When are you going to bring Lila to the office?” I asked.

“I need to, I know. It’s such a production to go anywhere. It takes me forever to load everything up and get out of the house. Lillian came by Thursday night. She brought Lila the cutest little outfit. She still insists I named this baby after her!” Carmen laughed. I wondered if she had mentioned the trunk full of goodies to Lillian, but I didn’t want to ask in front of Melanie.

We talked for a while about Lila, then we caught her up on current events in wedding world, and of course, we told her all about Charlotte.

“I hope she quits before I get back,” Carmen said. “I will not be able to put up with it. I will go off on that girl.” Carmen shook her head and took Lila from Mel to nurse.

“Did Tyler tell you Cabe is back?” Melanie asked as Carmen got settled on the couch with Lila.

“Yes,” she said. “I say karma is a bitch, my friend. He’s getting what’s coming to him for doing Tyler like he did.”

“What?! No, Carmen don’t even say that!” I said.

“I’m serious. It wasn’t right how he did you. That girl was no good for him from the start. Forcing him to give up his friends and family. Moving him way out there. Then she goes and leaves him? She’ll get what’s coming to her, but right now he gets what’s coming to him. Mark my words, chica. Karma is real.”

“I feel sorry for him,” Melanie said.

“I don’t,” Carmen said. “He didn’t have no business moving out there. He needed to stay here. Look after his mama.” Carmen nodded her head and looked to me for agreement, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I definitely didn’t think Cabe did anything to deserve Monica hurting him. As glad as I was to have him back here, I would give up being able to see him all over again for him to be happy. Even if it meant him being in Seattle without any contact. I hated seeing him hurt.

I looked back and forth between Mel and Carmen, who were still discussing Cabe’s return. They were my closest friends. They were here for me when he moved to Seattle and dropped off the planet. They kept me afloat when Cabe dumped me as a chocolate chip cookie. I didn’t expect Carmen to welcome him back with open arms. She was protective of me like I was protective of him. I understood that.

Mel, on the other hand, seemed to have become Cabe’s biggest champion. She refused to back down from her assertion that we were more than friends. I knew she had always harbored hopes that Cabe and I would end up together, but I guess I didn’t realize how much hope she was holding on to.

“I don’t know,” Mel said. “I always thought Cabe really loved Tyler. I think she just kept shutting him down and not giving him a chance, so he took off to find love somewhere else. There’s no way he would have even been with Monica if Tyler had ever given him the slightest hint there could be more between them. Now he’s back, and hopefully she’ll see what’s right in front of her.”

My head swung around to face Melanie like it was on a swivel. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I think you’ve confused me with someone else. What are you talking about?”

“Humph!” Carmen grunted. “Tyler ain’t wanting none of him, are you?” She turned to me but never stopped talking to Melanie. “My girl wants a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to reach out and take it, right, Tyler? They been friends too long to be getting all up in each other’s business. If he wanted it, he woulda told her a long time ago. If you wanted him, you would’ve known it a long time ago, right, girl?”

I nodded slowly, somewhat dazed at how I had become the ball in their tennis match. Carmen nodded as well, rocking back and forth as Lila nursed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, clearly on her soap box now. “Tyler, you don’t settle for nobody. You wait until the right man comes and sweeps you off your feet. A man you can’t live without. Makes you feel like a better woman just by being by your side. Don’t settle for no bullshit man who don’t know what he wants. And you damned sure don’t want no man who’s been divorced. Oh, no, girl. You wait and get one that is yours and yours alone. Don’t be signing up for no baggage.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I saluted her dramatically and laughed.

Mel shook her head. “She can’t keep waiting for some magical man to sweep her off her feet, Carmen. Real men have real issues, just like real women do. There’s no such thing as Prince Charming. You can’t overlook the great men that may already be there waiting for some perfect ideal that doesn’t exist.”

“Pshhtt. That’s bull. There’s a Prince Charming for everyone. I got mine. You got yours. Tyler will get hers.” Carmen refused to be swayed.

I kept thinking about their playful disagreement long after Lila had been put to bed and Melanie and I had said our goodbyes and headed home.

All the movies, the books, the fairy tales—they all sell us Prince Charming. THE ONE. When he arrives, you will know immediately that he is The One. Stars will twinkle, birds will sing, and all will be well. The fairy tales don’t get into financial problems, health problems, conflicts with the in-laws, or a mid-life crisis. They don’t mention arguing over the housework, working second jobs to pay the bills, or not showering all day with a new baby. They never show you the Prince’s faults or point out that the Princess has some stuff to work on herself.

In reality, I know Melanie is right. There’s no one riding in on a white stallion to rescue me from life. It’s not only unrealistic, it probably keeps a lot of great people from getting a fair chance at being in a relationship. It sets up men to fail since they can’t possibly be that perfect or actually rescue someone. It sets women up to fail because they have set their sights so high they feel as though they’ve missed out on something or settled the moment it’s not perfect.

From what I’ve seen in real life, no one actually lives happily ever after. Carmen said she and Melanie had their Prince Charmings. But I can name several things about Paul and Oscar that really irritate their wives. I am sure Oscar and Paul could point out some faults in their ladies as well. Melanie and Paul never thought their fairy tale wouldn’t include children, and I know for a fact Carmen and Oscar didn’t expect the emergency costs incurred when Carmen went into labor early at the Olive Garden.

But even though Mel is right, I don’t care. I’m with Carmen. I want the fairy tale. He doesn’t have to ride in on a horse, and after Mr. Bubble I don’t particularly care for him pulling up in a Porsche, but I want Prince Charming.

I want someone to sweep me off my feet. To know without any doubt he is The One. Because if he’s The One and it’s meant to be, then I’m safe. It can’t go wrong, right? No more painful break-ups and devastating hurt.

I want a passionate, romantic, and legendary love. At the same time, I want solid, honest, and real. Someone who thinks I am the absolute greatest thing walking despite my faults and shortcomings. I know no one is perfect. I’m okay knowing my Prince Charming will have some faults of his own. But I refuse to give up on the Happily Ever After.

For now though, I’m still stuck trying to find the Once Upon A Time. You can’t have the happy ending without a beginning, right?

Monday, October 28th

’Til death do us part can be a scary concept. I couldn’t imagine going to a car lot and having the salesman tell me to pick one car I’d have to keep for the rest of my life without ever having another. But that’s what we sell in the wedding business. Step right up and pick a bride. For life.

Melanie’s groom today, Wardell, was feeling the weight of the decision in a big way. When I escorted the guys into the holding room after pre-ceremony photos, Wardell hung back, letting all the other guys go in without him.

“You okay, Wardell?” I asked.

“Have you seen her?”

A common question from grooms on their wedding day. Tradition torments them with the belief that it is bad luck for the groom to see his bride on the wedding day.

“I haven’t,” I said, “but Melanie says she looks gorgeous!”

He leaned forward and whispered, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“What do you mean, Wardell?” At least that’s what I think I said. My mind was saying “Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!”, so I hope my mouth said something better.

“I don’t know. I love her. But we talking about the rest of my life, ya know? Like old man, gray-haired, crippled and shit. It’s all over after today.”

I didn’t know what to tell him, so I used something I saw Laura write in a card to a bride and groom once.

“Wardell, out of all the world and all the people, the two of you have chosen each other to wake up to. It’s a beautiful gift to give and receive. I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

Actually, I added the “I’m sure you’ll be just fine” part for reassurance.

“You don’t get it.” He put his hand on his chest and patted it, his voice filled with emotion. “I do choose her, and I do love her. And she loves me. I’m grateful for that. But this means I get one cereal every day for the rest of my life. Like every damned morning, I’m gonna know as soon as I open my eyes, that’s the only cereal in the house. The only cereal I’m allowed to eat. That scares the hell out of me. How can anybody eat one cereal every day the rest of their life and not get sick and tired of it?”

I couldn’t tell this man I had my own doubts and fears about this, so I decided to take his clever analogy and run with it.

“Wardell, what’s your absolute, most favorite cereal?”

He thought about it a minute before answering.

“Frosted Flakes.”

“That’s awesome,” I said. “Now, no one in their right mind would tell you to eat Frosted Flakes every day. It wouldn’t be healthy. But what if you could eat Frosted Flakes every day and it be good for you? What if no one could tell you not to eat it? You’d get to have your very favorite thing every day. And think about this . . . you’re the only one that gets the Frosted Flakes.”

I was grasping at straws, but I’ve never professed to be a relationship counselor. Far from it.

He looked away for a moment as though considering this option and what it would look like for him. Then he grinned, just a little at first and then a wide, toothy gold grin. A visible swagger settled over him, and Wardell was back in action.

“You all right, girl. You alright!” He gave me a little fist bump and opened the door to join his groomsmen.

When the ceremony ended, Wardell came back down the aisle like he’d won the jackpot of all lotteries. He pretty much floated beside Marquisha as they made their way toward me amid the shouts of congratulations.

He made eye contact with me right as they passed, pausing for the briefest of moments to say, “Frosted Flakes, baby! Every day! You know that’s right!”

I hope it is. I really hope it is.