Chapter 5 Choose a Venue
? Choose a Venue
The beauty in the initial stages of planning this wedding is Jordan can do most of it by phone.
He spends the next week and a half communicating with Amy and Sam via emails, texts, the occasional video call.
He sends out theme options to consider. A list of available vendors.
He asks about reception ideas, colors, flowers, cake preferences.
Every minute is dedicated to the wedding. Whenever Kami pops her head into his office for an update, Jordan always has an answer for her. It’s an adrenaline rush he can’t get enough of.
Bonus: Not once does he have to talk to or see Jamie.
Until today.
Today, they’re visiting prospective venues. The four of them.
While virtual walk-throughs of event spaces isn’t uncommon, Jordan can’t take that chance with Sam and Amy. They need to see firsthand what they’re committing to. Envision the biggest day of their lives there. Fall in love with the ambience. And time is short.
Jordan pointedly ignores Jamie’s presence. He concentrates on what architectural motifs interest Sam. What features light up Amy’s face.
Jamie’s not the client. He’s just there.
All day.
Jordan found three venues available the weekend Sam’s parents insisted on.
First: the Rigel. It’s just north of the city. Spacious and sleek with large ballrooms perfect for the number of guests the McClintocks anticipate, and 24 Carter Gold has a great relationship with the staff. For the last two years, they’ve hosted the mayor’s Valentine’s Day gala here.
Sam appreciates the cinematic scale of everything.
Amy likes the vision board Jordan shows her on his iPad.
Jamie’s mostly quiet. Not that Jordan notices. Just like he doesn’t notice how Jamie’s styled his hair today—brushed back so none of his wavy bangs curl over his forehead. It’s too put together. Too unnatural.
Jordan prefers the messy look. Like Jamie’s perpetually rolling out of bed into his daily activities. Like he wants you to know he doesn’t care about his appearance because he’s so much more than that.
But, fine, whatever. Jamie can wear his hair however he likes.
Jordan doesn’t care.
He pivots to Amy and Sam. “So, what are we thinking?”
“It works,” Sam says. He squeezes Amy’s hand. “Babe?”
Her nose wrinkles with indecision. She takes a quick peek at Jamie.
“Go with your instinct,” he tells her.
Amy nods. “Can we see the other two options?”
“Of course,” Jordan replies, leading them out while keeping a respectable distance from Jamie.
By late afternoon, they’re inside the Golden Rose Hotel, a historic landmark carved into the heart of Midtown Atlanta.
It’s sophisticated and luxe. Rich colors, shimmering crystal chandeliers, classic touches in every detail.
The kind of timeless Southern glam Jordan’s certain the McClintocks’ crowd will adore.
It’ll also look great in photos, especially for People.
Jordan escorts them into the Grand Ballroom.
Sam whistles. “Nice!”
He strolls through, snapping photos with his phone.
Amy follows silently.
“Very—” Jamie pauses, rubbing his chin. It’s still bare. No sign of shadowy stubble. “Posh?”
He looks at Jordan. “Is that the word Braylon would use?”
Jordan doesn’t answer. His attention is on Amy.
She studies the Parisian-inspired art on the high ceilings. The gold accents along white columns. How the afternoon sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Jordan tries to imagine what she sees.
When this all started, Kami told him, Most people think of weddings as playing dress-up. A formality. They just do what everyone else has done, but bigger. For them, the real fun is the reception.
Jordan remembers the soft smile cresting her lips during the next part:
But there are some people who’ve dreamt their whole lives about the actual ceremony. What it’d look like. What they’d wear. How significant it would be to say I do in front of everyone they love. Those are the clients you pay attention to. They’re the heart of what we do.
Jordan thought he understood what Kami was saying then.
But now? Now he gets it.
Amy hugs herself, her eyes constantly moving.
“Babe? What do you think?” Sam asks.
She bites her lower lip. “I like it.”
A quiet beat passes.
“But you don’t love it,” Jordan says for her.
Amy looks like she’s trying hard to hold on to a smile as Sam approaches her. Like she doesn’t want to disappoint him. She knows this is the sort of place she should want to have her wedding in, but it’s not.
Sam rubs her arms, whispering to her. She nods along, as if he’s gradually convincing her. They’re too far away for Jordan to overhear.
Out of nowhere, the air is spiced with oak and amber. Right, Jamie’s still here. Like a ghost Jordan can’t seem to exorcise.
“Isn’t there one more option?”
Jordan stares straight ahead. “Mm-hmm.”
“Is it too late to check it out?”
Jordan unlocks his phone. It’s 3:32 PM. The last venue isn’t far, but afternoon traffic’s already started. The congested streets and highways will add at least an additional fifty minutes to their drive.
Still, Jordan knows it’s worth it.
“Actually,” he says loud enough to grab Amy and Sam’s attention. He steps away from Jamie. “I think I have the perfect place to host your wedding.”
A genuine smile pushes Amy’s cheeks up. “Show us!”
Truly, Jordan’s saved the best for last.
Piedmont Conservatory sits on a giant stretch of land near the city’s edge.
It’s a sea of lush greens and exotic botanicals and eye-catching views.
Jordan almost booked the space last spring.
Back when he was assisting Kami in planning an engagement party for the Sedwicks.
He thought it’d be the ideal place to impress Uncle Kenny and help Kami land the CEO gig.
But she knew better.
“It’s great, but not for Emily and Warren,” she’d said. “Remember: We want to impress the client first. Fulfill their dreams. No matter how unreasonable or excessive they might be.”
The Conservatory wasn’t right for the engagement party. But Jordan’s convinced it’s tailor-made for Sam and Amy.
After securing permission from Lilly, one of the client services assistants, he escorts them to the garden.
Immediately, Amy stops cold, eyes widening. When Sam joins her, his jaw drops.
From behind them, Jamie swears “Fuck” softly.
Jordan grins.
The pristine green lawn extends at least half a mile, bracketed by tall trees.
In the middle of the grass is an arch with foliage twisted around it and a circle made of smooth stones.
Pops of color come in the shape of orange cosmos and pink snapdragons and red tulips.
The air is sweet with flowers and summer warmth.
This far from downtown, it’s quiet enough to hear the breeze.
“They only host events late September through early May,” Jordan announces as they walk. “But the owners are willing to make an exception. For your wedding.” He smiles over his shoulder at Amy. “If you want it.”
Behind her eyes, Jordan can finally see the hints of champagne bubbles. Of childhood dreams. The ceremony she’s longed for.
“I don’t know.” Sam’s eyebrows droop. “An August wedding outdoors? In Atlanta?”
Just as quickly, the bubbles burst. “The heat,” Amy fills in, sadly.
“The heat,” Sam repeats.
It’s true. Even after 5:30 PM, it’s about ten degrees too unbearable for two hundred guests sitting in the sun. Clothes-stuck-to-your-skin hot. There’s a reason wedding season in Atlanta is typically fall through late spring. But Jordan anticipated this response.
“I’m glad you brought that up.”
He unlocks his iPad. Taps open the Conservatory vision board he made last week. With a flourish, he flips the screen around.
“I was thinking … this.”
Breathless, Amy says, “Ohmygod.”
“An evening ceremony,” Jordan narrates with the same excitement sparkling through Amy’s eyes.
“Right at sunset. Pink skies to complement the floral arrangements. Trees draped with fairy lights. Paper lanterns on the arch.” He guides Amy and Sam through the fairy tale as it’s spun.
“After your first kiss, the guests will hold up LED fiber wands as you walk back down the aisle as husband and wife.”
Beside him, Amy’s practically vibrating. Over her shoulder, Jamie smirks.
Jordan tears his eyes away to glance at Sam, who looks less enthused.
“What if it rains?” He eyes the sky. “We all know Atlanta’s weather is unpredictable.”
Another sad fact.
Amy’s shoulders sink back to a normal level. “I didn’t think about that.”
Jordan, however, did.
“Come with me,” he requests.
The Piedmont Conservatory’s crown jewel is a glass-enclosed botanical greenhouse used for large-scale events.
From the outside, it’s a dramatic, geometric structure.
Falling sunlight winks off the glass. Finely sculpted shrubs and iron benches surround the perimeter. A stone walkway leads to the entrance.
Jordan eases the doors open. “I planned on this being our reception venue, but—”
Amy’s audible gasp echoes inside.
The interior sprawls for what seems forever.
Greenery crawls out from every corner, coiling around the steel framework.
Hanging from the curved trusses is a variety of string lights and glass bulbs.
Leafy chandeliers suspend from wooden beams while trees sprout up from the floor.
Looming at the front, just beyond a flowered arch, is a peach tree.
“This is…” Jamie blinks several times. He never finishes his sentence. But his open mouth says it for him.
Wow.
Jordan’s chest puffs. Only a little. “If the weather isn’t perfect, we can move the ceremony in here.”
“I’d love that,” Amy asserts.
Behind her, Sam paces in a small circle. He takes it all in.
Jordan walks Amy over to a far wall covered in leaves and colorful flowers. “Photos can be done here.”
She nods eagerly.
They stroll to the other side of the greenhouse where another arch is erected, this one wrapped in vines. “Your entrance here.”
A dreamy sigh slips past her lips.