Chapter 13
Astrid
One day before the wedding.
Being a wedding planner meant running a marathon in heals.
My phone had been ringing nonstop since six in the morning.
I’ve answered calls mid-brushing, mid-changing, and this kept up, I’d soon be taking one mid-shampooing.
Not that I’d get that far. My hair was already deep into its please wash me, I’m begging you phase, but unless the universe gifted me an extra hour today, I would have to embrace grease.
My phone rang again—the bride's mom calling.
“Amy’s under eyes look bad,” she began. I knew exactly where this was going. “She’s insisting on an emergency facial.”
“I wouldn’t recommend a facial the day before the wedding unless the bride wants to walk down the aisle looking like a sunburned tomato. I’ll bring some caffeine patches and ice rollers. She’ll be fine.”
I hung up before she could squeeze in another panicked request and tossed my phone onto the bed.
Amy’s mom had been testing my patience. One minute, she was freaking out because some Bob and Linda, who apparently had a bad divorce, were seated together.
Funny enough, that’s exactly how Amy had given me the seating chart in the first place.
The next, she was panicking over a ten percent chance of rain, cross-checking a hundred weather apps and demanding a backup plan.
And just when I thought I’d survived the worst of it, she found some Pinterest wedding video of a couple showered in lavender confetti and decided we need fifty bags of it by tomorrow morning.
Because, clearly, I wasn’t already drowning in enough work.
One quickest-shower-of-my-life later, I dressed in five minutes flat and bolted into the kitchen. I pulled open the fridge, quickly scanning: apples, strawberries, eggs. Apple it was. I grabbed one, took a bite, and flinched as a honk blared from outside.
In my rush, I slammed straight into the wall, a sharp pain radiating through my shoulder. I hissed but didn't pause long enough to regret it. I grabbed my bag, stuffed a handful of caffeine patches inside, and ran outside.
Kelly was already waiting in the car.
I slid into the car, spilling my frustrations. “This bride’s mom is driving me nuts.”
I was halfway through buckling myself in, still mid-rant, when I realized Kelly hadn’t even started the engine yet.
I glanced at her. “What?”
She tilted her head toward my front door. “Are you not going to lock the door?”
“Door!” I repeated, giving her an embarrassed smile. “Right. Yeah…One sec.” I dug through my bag, grabbed the keys, rushed back, locked the door, and hurried back to the car.
Kelly stared at me.
“Don’t say it.” I panted, fastening my seatbelt.
“I will because you’re anything but calm right now. Azzie, you’ve handled dozens of weddings. Just pretend this is one of them.”
“This wedding is different, Kel.” I sighed. “I took it on without a solid plan. Every five minutes, something else goes wrong. Yesterday, the event rental company delivered wobbly chairs and tables. And the vineyard owner didn’t let me put arches—”
“Not the owner,” Kelly cut in. “The owner’s in Africa. The one you met is the vineyard caretaker—Ayden.”
“Oh. Why’s the owner there?”
My phone rang— Amy’s mom again. I pressed the side button, silencing it.
“I honestly have no idea. I heard he's tracking rare animals in the jungle. But Aunt Dee insists he’s studying soil, though knowing her, that could mean anything from some real research to poking the dirt with a stick.
All I know is he left Orange Falls years ago and barely comes home anymore.
Mabel's already panicking he'll never come back.”
Mabel Ashbourne.
I put the pieces together. “Her son?”
Kelly nodded. “Exactly. So, what did Ayden do?”
“He didn’t let me put the arches near the vineyard because flowers attract bugs, and bugs ruin his grapes.”
An amused grin immediately spread across her face—way too eager. “That’s actually really smart. Very… responsible of him.”
I squinted at her, suspicion creeping in. Kelly always took my side.
“I—I mean,” she stammered. “Farmers tend to be...very protective of their land.”
I didn't press, even though her lie sat right there. I'd come back to it later.