Chapter 10
WILLOW
“Inow pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declares. “You may kiss the bride.”
The wedding ceremony is finally over.
The forty guests present all clap and cheer as Terrence kisses Katrina.
Sheila’s eyes are filled with tears—though I’m not sure if those are tears of joy or grief.
She just handed her precious boy off to another woman, and Sheila’s not the quitting type.
She’s clapping, though, and wishing them the best.
“She’s going to be miserable,” Cole mutters.
He and his brothers stand farther at the back, close to Jamie and me, while William Morgan makes his way over to congratulate Terrence and Katrina, along with other members of their extended family.
“Who? Katrina?” I reply. “I know.”
“Sheila,” Cole says and chuckles dryly. “If I were Katrina, I’d keep a hand over my drink at all times when Mommy Dearest is around.”
I can’t help but laugh.
Outside, a blanket of pure white covers the ground, the old pine trees of the neighboring forest donning their best winter garb. The sky is a dull, cold grey. It resembles the look on Sheila’s face as she glances our way.
Once the congratulatory part of the wedding is over, Sheila and William urge everyone to head to the ballroom.
“The other guests are starting to arrive,” Katrina says, glowing with pink cheeks and all the joy in the world. Unfortunately for her, I know it won’t last.
Terrence keeps her close, though his gaze keeps wandering back to me for some reason.
I recognize the hunger in his eyes, and it makes my stomach turn as I lean closer to Cole.
I know my layered, champagne-beige dress is hugging my figure in all the right spots, but his focus should be exclusively on his bride.
“It’s a circus, anyway,” Toby mutters, watching the others walk out of the greenhouse, following the bride and groom.
“It’s their circus,” Cole reminds him. “Once today is over with, we can go back to business as usual.”
Asher shakes his head. “Only for a couple of weeks while those two are on their honeymoon. Terrence will come back and keep vying for his spot in Dad’s will.”
“I’ll be here to receive him,” Cole replies. A muscle ticks in his stubbled jaw.
My fingers itch to run along that stern edge before they get lost in the richness of his salt-and-pepper hair. My eyes meet his—wild spheres of blue and grey whose intensity I drown in, until William’s voice startles me with its warm, familiar rumble.
“Congratulations on a job well done, Willow,” he tells me. “Both of you, actually,” he continues and shakes Jamie’s hand. “It came out beautifully, and I saw the ballroom, too. It’s different from what I remember, but it’s wonderful. It made the kids happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “I’m glad you’re happy, as well.”
“I never liked the way it ended between you and Terrence, but I’m glad you landed on your feet and handled this event so honorably. I’m impressed.”
“Willow is a professional through and through,” Cole says.
William frowns slightly, his left hand balled into a fist.
Asher is the first to notice. “Are you okay, Dad?”
“Just tired. I think that’s it for me. I’ll get Ian to help me upstairs,” William replies, then motions for Ian. “You all go in there, though. Have fun. Eat the food. Drink the booze. I’m pretty sure it all came out of my pocket.”
Toby laughs, but I can still see the concern in his eyes. “You’re just miffed you can’t wrestle Uncle James over the eighteen-year-old scotch, old man.”
“You’re damn right,” William chuckles, letting Ian escort him out of the greenhouse.
I’m touched by his words. He’s a good man with good principles, and I know he raised his sons right, too.
It’s obvious. The difference between the Morgan brothers and Terrence is immense.
I genuinely feel sorry for Katrina. As much as it hurt when it happened, I find myself feeling grateful for the way Terrence broke it off. He saved me.
And Cole, Asher, and Toby arrived to remind me that I’m worth so much more.
The reception is as boring as I knew it would be, judging by the guest list alone: rich folks from all over New York, dressed impeccably and armed with the standard talking points—the weather, the stock market, the Hamptons’ next golden couple, the Ivy League academic standards, that article in The New Yorker, and a few good words here and there about the wedding itself. It’s stuffy.
I overhear bits and pieces, mostly praise over the décor and the menu. It’s nice and reaffirming, for sure, a testament to the quality of our work. What’s even nicer is that the Morgan brothers have barely left my side this whole time.
“You really did pull off one hell of an event,” Cole says.
“And on such short notice,” Asher adds.
“It helped that the couple’s family had so much cash to burn.” I laugh lightly. “Lots of last-minute orders just before Christmas tripled the budget.”
Jamie takes another sip of his champagne. “But we showed them, didn’t we? I already gave out half of my business cards tonight.”
“That’s great news, right?” Toby asks.
“It is. There’s a growing chance that we’re going to be packed with wedding events and engagement parties for the next year, maybe even the next two years, if they all come through,” I say.
“Provided they’re not all last-minute nightmares like this one,” Jamie mutters.
I clink his glass and give him a confident wink. “Sheila thought she could break us, but she failed. We’ll handle whatever comes our way.”
“I’m not surprised,” Cole says. His gaze follows Sheila across the room as she glides like a goddess in silver, drinking champagne and accepting congratulations. “It was your sink-or-swim moment, Willow, and you swam.”
“One thing that’s been bothering me for a while, though, is why she used her own son’s wedding for this? What was her endgame?”
Asher offers a subtle shrug while his hand rests comfortably on the small of my back.
“She tried to ruin your business reputation. She cost you some clients. She got you desperate enough to work this wedding because you would either succeed or fail miserably. In her sick mind, success means you owe her. Failure would’ve meant a miserable bride like Katrina hating you even more.
Sheila doesn’t take her son or her daughter-in-law’s feelings into consideration, only her personal agenda. ”
“Well, Sheila’s in for an unpleasant surprise, then, because I don’t owe her a thing,” I say. “And this wedding is proof that our agency is awesome. Everybody here knows it now, too, so she can’t badmouth me to anyone, not anymore.”
“Don’t think for a second that she’s done giving you a hard time,” Toby says. “You’re ours, Willow. And if there’s one thing Sheila hates more than seeing you happy and thriving, it’s seeing us happy and thriving.”
“That sounds ominous.”
I gulp down the rest of my champagne and give my empty glass to Jamie for a refill. He makes his way to the bar, chatting up a few more guests along the way. He’s so charming and talkative, he needs to hand out a couple of cards before he even reaches the bar counter.
“I don’t think I could’ve pulled this off without him,” I tell Cole.
“Jamie’s a badass, I’ll give him that. He’s quite the diplomat, too. He held his own with Sheila more than once, and he was firm during the price negotiations,” Cole says.
“I was so nervous at first,” I reply.
“Speak of the devil,” Toby warns.
We all see her approaching our group.
Behind Sheila, the reception unfolds. Champagne rivers flow from intricate ice fountains.
Chocolate pours hot over platters of fresh fruits, while bartenders mix Christmas-themed cocktails in stainless steel shakers before pouring them into perfectly chilled martini glasses with salt-crystal-coated rims.
It’s a winter wonderland for the rich: silver sparkles and white tulle, classical music and white poinsettia blossoms bursting across the walls, lights twinkling from ornate icicles, and a fine, subtle fragrance of pine and winter spices floating through the air.
Sheila stands out with her bright red curls and dazzlingly tight silver sequined dress as she glides towards us with two glasses of champagne. One is for her, and one is for me, apparently.
“Congratulations on a job well done, Willow,” she says, her smile faker than her veneers. “You truly outdid yourself.”
“Thank you,” I reply, unable to mimic the same. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
She steals a glance at Cole, a shadow briefly darkening her face, before she shifts her focus back to me.
“My happiness is beside the point. My son is thrilled, and Katrina is a glowing bride. The event was just gorgeous from top to bottom. I would’ve gone for the roses for the bouquet, they’re classier, but I couldn’t argue with the bride on that. ”
The falsetto laugh tells me everything I need to know. Sheila had no idea Katrina would be carrying the lilies for her bridal bouquet until she walked down the aisle. I saw the look on Sheila’s face. She didn’t like it.
“You’re absolutely right. You can’t argue with the bride’s wishes,” I reply.
She takes another look at Cole, blatantly ignoring Asher and Toby. I find it odd. But then she smiles my way again. “I was hoping we could bury the hatchet. You proved your professionalism, despite the personal issues, and my son is now happily married to the woman of his dreams. No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings for what, exactly?” I ask, my tone as flat as death.
“For the harsh words that were said perhaps, for the collateral damage your business incurred after Terrence broke off your engagement, for how it must’ve all felt. And then for you to organize this event, it couldn’t have been easy, but you rose above.”
“I always rise above, Sheila. Don’t worry.”