Chapter 6
6
I force a determined smile across my face as I push open the tinkling door of the café the next morning. I’m dressed in a mint green sundress and a small part of me is hoping if I look the part of the angelic, reformed former big-city girl who now fully embraces smalltown life, I might be better equipped to finish my tasks and get my ass home. “Good morning, Mimi.” Maybe if I pretend like yesterday never happened, she will too.
She greets me with a soft smile and piteous eyes. “Good morning, Cam. I’m sorry you had such a rough day yesterday.”
It irks only because, all things considered, it didn’t actually feel like such a rough day. At least, not until the very end. “It’s okay. I had a feeling I wasn’t cut out for bookselling, but I’m ready and willing to move on to the next.” Cam Andrews doesn’t stay down for long.
Mimi studies me for a minute, as if she’s trying to determine whether I mean what I say. I must pass the test because she turns to start fixing me a latte, and even though I’d rather just have an espresso, I let her make me one of her frothy specialties.
I head over to our usual table while she makes my coffee, sinking into the chair and doing my best not to let myself sink into a full-on pit of doom. Accepting Mimi’s proffered mug gratefully, I take a sip before steeling myself to ask the dreaded question: “So, what do you think I should try next?”
Mimi taps her nails along the pink ceramic of her own mug. “I know there’s a wedding this weekend, and Kate could probably use some help, so that might be the next best bet.”
“Kate?” If there is someone else actually in charge, wedding planning already sounds easier than running the bookstore. I can take direction if nothing else.
“Yes, Kate is Heart Springs’s resident event planner. She takes care of all the weddings and town events.”
Given that I have so far only met like five people in the entire town, it seems like Kate might have a pretty easy job. How many weddings can there be among such a tiny population? This wedding gig seems like it probably involves a lot of scrolling through Pinterest. You know, if they actually had phones and social media. And while I am not one who enjoys sitting back and doing nothing, it might be easier to be passionate about that than stocking bookshelves or measuring flour.
“Okay, great. Well, I guess when I’m done here, I’ll head over and meet Kate and let her know she has an extra set of hands for the big day.” I’m trying really hard not to get my hopes up because honestly, this job sounds too good to be true. I thought bookselling was going to be a piece of cake and it turned out to be a total nightmare, and I don’t want to make the same mistake with this whole wedding gig. Most likely, the only part of this one that will be a piece of cake is the actual cake.
But when I stride out of the coffee shop a few minutes later, I’m cautiously optimistic, emphasis on the cautious. Mimi told me to turn left and keep walking and I’d come to Kate’s shop; since it’s my first real stroll through the main part of town, I take my time.
The town really is idyllic, if you’re into the whole small-town romance vibe. The pastel rainbow color scheme is consistent throughout, the sun shines brightly but not too hot, and for the first time since I arrived, I find myself among other people. People besides Ben and Mimi and the few customers I met at the bookstore. And of course, every single one of them greets me with a smile and a hello and seems genuinely happy to see me.
It’s a foreign feeling. Despite working with family on a daily basis back at home, none of them ever seem excited to see me. Even when I’m closing deals and bringing in huge accounts. I don’t have any siblings—at least my mom was smart enough to quit while she was ahead—and my relationship with my cousins has always been more competitive than friendly (it’s not my fault Grandmother picked me to be her successor at the ripe age of nine—what was I supposed to do, be less awesome?). I can’t even think what my reception will be like when I finally make it back home, having been out of the office for who knows how long, and missing the biggest meeting of my career so far.
Hmm. Maybe I should take my time here in Heart Springs, delay the inevitable familial disappointment for as long as possible.
I land in front of Kate’s shop and quickly change my mind about that.
The awning over the front window is a soft baby pink, as is the trim around the window and the door to the shop. The words “Best Day Ever” are painted in a gold, flowing script across the glass, behind which are three of the biggest, poofiest wedding dresses I have ever seen.
When I push open the door, the first few bars of the Wedding March chime throughout the room, carpeted in pink and overflowing with flowers, linens, invitations, and sample table decor. I’ve never had claustrophobia until this moment, but it hits me hard.
“Hello?” I call out into the empty and yet stuffed to the brim room.
A stunningly gorgeous Southeast Asian woman flurries into the room, her arms laden with binders, one pen in her mouth, another holding up her messy bun. She wears a pink sheath dress and pink ballet flats and it should look ridiculous but somehow she manages to look something bordering on chic.
“Hi, I’m Cam.” I catch one of the binders as it topples from her pile, tucking it under my arm and taking a few more from her stack before they fall.
Kate lets the rest of them slide onto one of the tables—set with various sample place settings—and removes the pen from her mouth, revealing a wide smile. “Hi, Cam. Mimi told me to expect you.”
I still have yet to see a single phone in this town and somehow everyone always knows what’s going on everywhere at all times.
“I’m sorry to interrupt while you’re clearly so busy.”
“Nonsense. I could use the help.” Kate gives me a quick once-over. “I take it you don’t have any experience with weddings?”
“Can’t say that I do .” Pun intended.
“Well, that’s no problem. If you just listen carefully to instructions, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” She starts flipping through one of her binders (it’s, you guessed it, pink). “The main thing to remember is that you are always wrong and they are always right.”
“I’m sorry?” The reason I have built such a successful career is because of my ability to be right, which I am. Pretty much always. Truly. Always.
“If the bride tells you she really wanted pink flowers even though you know she said white, you have a signed contract saying white, and you have her mood board without a drop of color on it, you obviously ordered the wrong flowers and will correct your mistake immediately.”
I start to slowly back toward the door, hoping she’s so busy she won’t notice if I disappear and run for the hills because I’ve definitely made a terrible mistake.
She pins me in place with a pointed look. “Don’t worry. Most of the ire will be directed at me, not you.”
“Do you receive a lot of ire?” It could be my total lack of wedding knowledge, but I would think people would be pretty kind on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of their lives.
Maybe they all know deep down that marriage and life-long love are a crock of shit.
Kate laughs, and despite the subject at hand, it seems genuine. “Oh yes, of course. Weddings are emotional, and when emotions are running high, people get nervous. And I tend to be the one they take those nerves out on.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
She shrugs. “If it means they get to enjoy their day, then I don’t mind.”
“You are a better person than I, Kate.”
“It’s all worth it in the end, you’ll see.”
This is probably my last chance to run from the shop screaming, but instead I pull my shoulders back and stand tall, taking on my favorite pose of determined strength. I need to get home, and if bearing the brunt of some mother of the bride’s stress gets me there, then I can handle it. Surely a couple of anxious moms aren’t any tougher than my usual clients.
—
I should really stop making such ridiculous declarations , I think as I gently pry the mother of the groom’s fingers from my forearm, where she is gripping so tight, I’ll probably have bruises tomorrow.
“The pocket fold on these napkins is all wrong!” She finally drops my arm, but only so she can grab a stack of neatly folded napkins, completely destroying the precious pleats.
“Ma’am, until about an hour ago, I had no idea what a pocket fold even was.” I back away from her slowly, so as not to startle her with my sudden movements. “Let me go find Kate, and I’m sure she can figure this out.”
“You rang?” Kate gently pushes me out of the way and within sixty seconds has the momzilla calmed down and even smiling. She ushers the mom out of the reception hall and instructs the servers to fix the mangled napkins. And she does it all with a smile on her face.
“I thought the brides were supposed to be the difficult ones.”
Kate laughs. “Oh gosh no. Moms are the worst, second only to the rare but horrendous groomzillas.”
“You should be nominated for sainthood,” I mumble, brushing a stray thread off one of the tables.
“It just takes a little patience.” She adjusts one of the centerpieces, turning it a millimeter at a time until she’s satisfied with its placement. “You’re doing very well for your first time, especially considering I only had a day to prep you before throwing you into the action.”
I don’t mean to relish in this small bit of praise, but I haven’t felt anything even close to competent since I woke up in this candy-colored hellscape and it feels nice. “Thanks,” I say, and I mean it.
Maybe I can do this after all. Maybe Kate can teach me how to smile and nod while a stranger berates me. I mean, if anything, my family might have perfectly prepared me for this job. The next time someone gives me attitude, I’ll just pretend I’m dealing with Grandmother when she’s on one of her tirades—keep the eyes engaged but shut down my emotions. I’ve been doing that my whole life.
What I’m not prepared to handle is a bride with cold feet. And when today’s bride, Emily, grips my arm in a hold not unlike her future mother-in-law’s, her eyes wide with fear, I don’t know what to do. Honestly, Kate should be the one in the bridal suite, fluffing the dress and fixing the train as we get Emily ready to take the long walk down the aisle, but she’s off wrangling the wedding party.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Emily whispers, her French manicured nails digging into my skin.
I try desperately to channel Kate or Mimi, fuck even Ben could probably handle this better than I can. “What do you mean?” I’m stalling, hoping and praying Kate will push through the door and work her magic.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“ This meaning…?”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Walk down that aisle and get married.”
“Pledging your entire life to one person is a pretty bonkers concept when you think about it.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I fake laugh as if it can cover my mistake.
“Exactly. Like am I really going to commit the whole rest of my existence to a man who doesn’t even know how to load a dishwasher?”
“Yes?” Hopefully, because if not, I think I can probably say goodbye to my chances of getting home. Something tells me a career as a successful wedding planner doesn’t start with your first wedding ending in, well, zero marrying. “I mean, that’s just one little flaw. Everyone has flaws. Certainly he has other good qualities to make up for it?”
She snorts. “Like how he leaves every single light on and every single cupboard open?”
“Charming personality quirks!” My voice rises unnaturally high. “Emily, it’s normal to be nervous before making such a huge, life-altering decision, but you and Tim love each other.” The words burn my throat because I know love is never enough, but I’m selfish enough to keep pushing this woman if it means I don’t have to completely botch another career path.
Emily tosses her bouquet on the couch. “I don’t think I should do this.”
I grab the flowers before they can get crushed and shove them back in her hands. “Emily, you’ve gotten this far, babe, think about how disappointed everyone will be if you call it off now.” My stomach turns because why the hell should she care how disappointed everyone else will be? This is her life and her decision to make.
She sinks down onto the couch, her head falling into her hands. “I don’t think he really loves me. And I don’t think I love him either.”
Fuck it. I sit down next to her. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She turns her head to meet my gaze, her eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m serious. If you don’t love him, why the hell would you marry him?”
“We were high school sweethearts. Our families are best friends. It was just expected, you know? And I do care about him, but maybe that isn’t enough.” Tears start to fill her eyes.
I hand her a tissue. “Just because it’s expected doesn’t mean it’s right. Have you talked to Tim about this at all?”
She shakes her head. “He’s my best friend. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“If he really cares about you, then he’ll want you to be happy.” I pat her on the knee in a way I hope is comforting. “Besides, why are you more worried about his feelings than you are about yours? That’s how women end up in untenable situations with the garbage bags we call men. Do you really want to end up alone and miserable in a year or two, saddled with Tim’s kid and unable to make a life for yourself?”
Blowing her nose loudly, she looks at me with wet eyes. “You really think that’s what could happen?”
I may have imparted too much personal info there, but I don’t let it slow me down. “It’s a real possibility, Em. I’ve seen it happen.” I push to my feet. “Let me go get Kate.”
Before I have the chance to leave and go find out what the hell to do now, Kate pushes into the room, a bright yet harried smile on her face. “Everything okay in here?”
“Emily doesn’t want to get married,” I say with an almost proud smile on my face.
Kate’s face drains of all color. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We’ve been talking, and Emily decided she doesn’t want to go through with the wedding.”
“You’ve been talking?” Kate yanks on my elbow, pulling me aside into a corner of the room. “What did you say to her?”
“She told me she didn’t think she could do this and so we talked, and it turns out she isn’t sure about marrying Tim.” I know this creates a lot more problems for Kate, but shouldn’t she be happy that I’ve helped this woman avoid a major life-ruining mistake?
Kate closes her eyes and her nostrils flare with the deep breath she sucks in. “So my bride told you she was a little nervous and you somehow convinced her she doesn’t want to get married?”
“I think that’s oversimplifying things a bit.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Get out,” Kate instructs. “Get out and do not talk to another person involved in this wedding.”
“But I—”
Kate halts my protests with a single look.
I sneak a peek at Emily, who’s still sitting on the couch, still crying, and somehow looking a lot less resolute than she was just a few minutes ago. I don’t say another word, pushing out of the room and away from another self-induced disaster.
The town’s one event space is located in the center of the main square, and I stomp all along Main Street until I’m back in front of my gate. I know without even looking that Ben is sitting on his porch, judging me.
I march a few steps down the sidewalk and throw open his little white gate instead of mine. Plopping into the rocking chair next to his, I gesture to the beer wrapped in his hand. “Got any more of those?”
He raises a single eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, reaching behind the small table and pulling out two already opened beer bottles like well-timed magic. “Cheers?” He reaches across the gap with his beer.
I tap mine against his.
“Bad day at work, sweetheart?” Can you hear a smirk because I’m pretty sure I do when he uses that “term of endearment.”
“What are the chances we can just not talk about it?” I swig from the bottle and lean my head back against the cushioned chair.
“Your first wedding and you made the bride cry?”
Curse this town and its ridiculously fast traveling gossip.
“To be fair, I didn’t make her cry. She was sort of already crying.” I push down a very inappropriate giggle because really, nothing about this situation is funny. Not one bit. “I just didn’t exactly help the situation.”
Ben smirks—a visible one—though he attempts to hide it with a sip from his bottle. And fails miserably. “Safe to say Kate won’t be asking for your help again in the future?”
“I think that’s a pretty sure bet.”
We sit in a comfortable silence for a minute.
“Did she end up going through with it?”
Ben knows exactly who I mean, and somehow, though I just left the venue, he already has the answer. “Yes. Emily and Tim managed to make it down the aisle and through the entire ceremony, relationship intact.”
I should probably be happy that I somehow managed to not completely ruin the day, but I can’t make myself smile. “Poor fool.”
Ben leans back and turns his head in my direction. “Let me guess, you don’t believe in love?”
I scoff into my beer. “Of course I don’t believe in love. Relying on one person, committing yourself to them for the rest of your life? Assuming that because you found someone dumb enough to pledge themselves to you that you somehow get to escape the worst of the world’s problems? Tying your self-worth to the approval of someone you can never really know? Giving up your independence for the sake of having one more person’s expectations to live up to?”
Ben doesn’t say anything for an awkwardly long time. “That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
My laughter rings hollow. “Why, because it’s true?”
“No. Because you’ve never truly experienced what it means to be loved, by anyone, I’m guessing.”
His stark words knock the wind out of me. I’ve never hid the fact that relationships are not my thing. I don’t date, and it’s certainly no secret that I’m not exactly looking for love.
But the insinuation behind his declaration—that I’ve never been loved by anyone—hurts more than I’d like to admit. Partly because, in a lot of ways, I think it might be true. Sure, my grandmother cares for me. I think she does, deep down, want what’s best for me. But I still often wonder how much of that is because of me, and how much of it is because she’s trying to fix her own regrets.
My mom might have loved me once, back before she decided to put her own happiness first. Then again, maybe she always knew I would be better off with Grandmother. Maybe I wouldn’t be where I am now if she had stuck around. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to question if her decision was worth it.
“If you’re such an ardent admirer of true love, then where’s yours?” I throw the words at him as if my barbs can erase the impact of his.
He shrugs, taking another casual sip from his beer. “I just haven’t found the right person yet.”
“What makes you so sure they exist? Or that you’ll ever find them?” I mean the questions to convey my skepticism, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear his answers. That want catches me off guard—it’s not like me to be interested in someone else’s opinions. But something about Ben makes me want to know him. I study his profile, for the first time appreciating the strong line of his jaw and the chocolate brown of his eyes.
He meets my gaze, holding the eye contact for longer than is wholly comfortable. “I’ve seen enough true love to know it exists. And I don’t know that I’ll find it for myself, I just have faith that she’ll come to me when she’s meant to.”
“That sounds like a lot of poetic bullshit to me, neighbor.” I chug the remainder of my beer.
He flashes me a small smile. “I have a feeling you might end up changing your mind.”
Because if I don’t, I’ll be stuck here forever. Neither of us says it out loud.
Ben clears his throat. “If you want to take a break from the carousel of failed careers, you could start working on one of your other tasks.” He catches the look I throw him. “Not the love one, don’t worry.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m organizing a fundraiser for the children’s hospital, because despite the fact that no one here really seems to get sick or injured, there’s always a children’s hospital in need of funding.”
Of course there is. So people like Ben can volunteer and raise money for them. It’s like the man was sent here specifically to make me look bad.
“It’s a carnival,” he continues, “so there’ll be games and food and rides. It’s a lot to manage and I could use some help.” He nudges my elbow with his. “I imagine someone who volunteers might soon find themselves to be a valued member of the community.”
“Yes, but at what cost?” I mean it to come out as a joke, but the words sound cutting, even to me.
“Spending time working with me sounds that horrible, huh?” He both lets me off the hook and doesn’t accept my bullshit, a rare trait.
“I suppose if I’m going to get through this whole disaster, I might need to make at least one friend.”
“Am I the lucky winner?” Ben’s eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise. “Whatever did I do to deserve to be blessed with the friendship of Campbell Andrews?”
I throw him a false grin. “Proximity.”
He places a hand over his heart. “You are too kind to me, sweetheart.”
“I’m sure I won’t stack up to your actual friends since I don’t exactly have a lot of practice, but beggars can’t be choosers.” It sounds like I’m fishing for information, and I might be.
“To be honest, I wouldn’t say I have a ton of close friends. My colleagues and I are close just due to the circumstances that bring us together, but I’ve always been a bit of a loner.”
“Yeah, me too.” Though Ben’s lonerhood seems to be a choice, whereas mine sometimes feels like people just don’t want to be around me.
But I probably bring that on myself.
“So what do you say, ready to lend a helping hand?”
My fake smile morphs into a real glare. “I guess if I have to prove myself useful, this carnival thing doesn’t sound like the worst idea ever.”
“Praise be!”
“If nothing else, you might be the only other person in Heart Springs who knows what sarcasm is.”
“It is a gift.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Well then, I guess that officially makes us friends, Dr. Loving. I can’t say I’ve had too many of those in my life.”
He nudges my arm with his elbow, the bare skin of his arm brushing against mine and making me shiver. “Happy to be your first, sweetheart.”