Chapter Twenty-Six
Audrey
Weddings are far less about romance and more like tactical diplomacy. If one more person tries to schedule a pre-pre-wedding tasting brunch, I’m going to fake a signal outage and move to a remote island with questionable Wi-Fi and zero floral vendors. Before wedding planning, I had no idea how many ways a person could be asked if they prefer blush or dusty rose. They’re the same freaking color!
The house, no, scratch that, the flipping compound, is buzzing with more people than the Oscars backstage. Designers flit through the hallways like caffeinated fairies as florists unload enough petals to smother a mid-size village. Don’t even get me started with the clipboards. There are so many clipboards with notes, more notes... and even more notes. I have nightmares of an avalanche of sticky notes pulling me down the side of a mountain and burying me, never to be seen again. If it gets me out of wedding planning, I’m perfectly okay with that.
Wolf and I are sitting on the edge of a couch like the hostages we are, coffee in hand, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in fear that it will spark another round of questions, such as how do you feel about scalloped edging? I swear I’m going to start yelling and never stop.
“This isn’t a wedding,” I mutter, staring at a six-page PDF itinerary my mother just emailed me. “It’s a royal summit with centerpieces.”
Wolf looks far too relaxed with his infuriatingly sexy smirk, like this is the most entertaining thing he’s ever witnessed. He might not make it to the wedding because I’ll be burying him. No doubt my mother would find a fill-in groom, because this thing is going to happen with or without us.
I gasp as I read the next line of her agenda. “There’s a freaking flower rehearsal. Why in the world does someone need a flower rehearsal? Do the flowers have to be taught how to behave?”
“Well, according to your mother, everything needs to be perfect, which requires rehearsing,” he says as if it’s not a big deal at all. I glare at him. He wipes the smile from his lips, but it’s still showing in his eyes. “We could sneak off and say our vows privately.”
I’m not amused. “We could promise each other to survive the circus,” I sarcastically say.
He jumps on board. “And vow not to elope unless absolutely necessary.”
I stop and look at him with hope. “We could elope. We could sneak right out of here and fly to Vegas.”
I’m so close to sneaking off to do just that when Jayden barges into the room holding two suits, his grin wide. He’s a part of all of this torture. He’s smiling more during this wedding planning than I thought possible. He’s supposed to be the serious brother, but he’s like a kid who just received a new puppy. He’s more sadistic than I thought possible.
“I had your tux looked over. It’s been cleaned, and they replaced a missing button,” he proudly says. “I’ll hang it up.” He starts to walk away, then turns. “Don’t forget Sherman’s bringing wine to taste in an hour.”
Wolf blinks as he looks at the tux. Now, it’s my turn to smile. He only laughs when I’m being tortured. Not quite as fun when he’s on the receiving end.
“Is it too late to fake a skydiving emergency?” he asks.
Drake pops his head in behind Jayden. “The fireworks team says we can either spell out Forever, or have the gold waterfall cannon, but we can’t do both. I’m not sure what to do.” He pops out just as quickly.
“Holy hell!” Wolf grumbles.
“At least your family’s as crazy as mine,” I say, feeling a little better. We were so close to escape, but they’d hunt us down, and it wouldn’t be pretty, not pretty at all. It might be fun for a minute, but we’d pay for too many years to count. I let out a sigh.
A woman moves into the room next, her hair in a bun so tight it looks painful. She’s holding a measuring tape and stops in front of me. “Please stand up.” She’s so dang firm, I rise before I think of saying no.
She shakes her head. “No, I need Wolf to stand.” He isn’t as compliant as I was.
“Why?”
“We need to measure your inseam.”
“You really should buy me dinner first,” he tells her with a wink. I fight not to laugh. The woman doesn’t blink. She also doesn’t show an ounce of amusement, she simply waits. Wolf slowly rises, looking like a Catholic schoolboy who’s been scolded by an angry nun.
“Alrighty then,” he says. “Let’s get it over with.”
The woman starts moving away, and he slowly follows. I’m barely holding back my laughter. I like it a lot more when he’s the one being tortured. I love the man, and that includes loving his misery when it’s in the right moment.
“Don’t forget to do a little hemming on his ego as well,” I call out after them.
“Haha, you’re so funny,” he calls back over his shoulder. I don’t get to enjoy my amusement for long before all attention is back on me.
Three people move to me, pinning fabric to my torso while someone else holds swatches up to my face like I’m a wall in need of paint. Damn, do most brides actually enjoy this?
“Hmmm, your skin has cool undertones,” one of the women whispers. “We’ll definitely go with champagne.” She pauses for a moment. “Maybe pearl.”
“How about—?”
The woman stops me in my tracks. “If you dare say ivory, I’ll quit on the spot. Ivory is the easy answer, but you’re spectacular, bold, charismatic. That will never do for you.”
All of these people quitting is my idea of heaven, but it wouldn’t matter. They’d be replaced before I could blink, and this zoo would start all over again.
“I wouldn’t dare suggest that,” I tell her. She smiles as if I’m a good girl. I had no idea a nightmare could come to life before enduring wedding planning.
A very loud, flamboyant man bursts into the room, wearing clothing so bright it hurts my eyes. “I have samples!” he cries out in an ear-piercing tone that makes my eardrums ring.
I want to dive into the couch and pray it eats me. I can’t look at more samples. I’ve seen so many, I’ll never go to Costco again because the word “sample” will send me into counseling. I’m going to get PTSD from wedding planning.
Wolf, humbly walking back into the room, cheers me slightly. We’ve agreed to walk through life together, and I want him to feel as much pain during this wedding planning as I do. He’s back in time for another round of food tasting. We’ve eaten so much these past few days we’re not going to fit into our wedding clothes, causing a whole new round of hysteria we’ll be blamed for, even if it isn’t our fault.
“This is a hibiscus-mint lavender cake with elderflower glaze,” the man announces proudly, setting down what looks like a cube of pastel foam. I’m not impressed.
Wolf looks at the sample like it’s a bug. He picks it up and takes a smell. He looks with confusion at the man. “Is this cake or air freshener?”
The man looks highly offended, and I choke to cover my laugh. He glares at me as he places his hands on his hips. Oh crap, we might make him cry.
“You said you wanted unique,” he states. Neither Wolf nor I asked for any such thing. My mother or the Andersons or who-the-hell knows, most likely asked for unique. Wolf and I prefer edible, though I don’t dare say this. I obediently take a bite. I nearly gag as I force myself to swallow what tastes like a flower garden.
We choke our way through many more samples, some good, some okay, and some downright awful. The man doesn’t look pleased when he exits the room. I’m sure he’s off to complain to the real planners.
The florist, looking like Snow White in her overly dramatic dress and very pink cheekbones, arrives next with her arms full of cascading arrangements that look like they were designed by woodland creatures on hallucinogens. She’s beaming.
“These will dramatically spill from the grand staircase,” she tells us, her eyes dreamy as if she’s picturing it now.
“What staircase?” Wolf asks.
She waves her hand in the air as if batting away bees or birds. I’m sure in her mind they’re circling around her. “There will be a staircase,” she assures us.
“They’re bringing in a staircase for our wedding?”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point.”
He leans close to me. “Seriously, I am all for eloping.” His eyes are wide as if begging me to run away with him.
I smile, tuning out the chaos for a moment. I move forward, cup his cheek, and sweep my lips across his. “I love you.”
“You’re my world,” he tells me, and a calm comes over us, giving us a much-needed reminder of why we’re here. This part might be a circus, but in the end, we’ll be married. The wedding will only last a day, but our marriage will last a lifetime.
Our moment is interrupted as another tray is swept down in front of us. “Canapé?”
“What is it?” Wolf asks.
“Duck mousse on a micro-brioche with a balsamic pearl,” the man says.
“You killed a poor duck for this?”
The man’s eyes widen in horror as if he didn’t understand an actual duck met its end for this tasty treat. I again look down to keep from laughing as the man turns and runs from the room. I can’t look at Wolf or I’ll burst out laughing.
“That was mean... and brilliant,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“I really didn’t want to eat that thing. Sounded gross.”
“Maybe that will work on fabric too.”
He laughs. “I don’t think there’s a cotton or silk animal.”
I think for a moment. “Silkworms?”
He leans back and laughs. “No one will feel sorry for worms.”
“It could happen.”
Chloe arrives carrying two clipboards and three iced lattes like she’s storming Normandy. She’s smiling with sympathy.
“I tried blocking the sound system people, but they came in through the back gate,” she says, dropping onto the couch. She can feel my pain. At least she’s on my side. “Your mom’s now requesting two soloists.”
“Two?”
“She claims your love is too powerful for a single vocal point. Those are her words, not mine.”
Wolf grins. “I like it.”
Chloe raises her latte in a salute. “Drink. Survive. Resist the urge to elope.”
“Too late,” I mutter.
“You didn’t?”
“No, but we want to.”
“It’s not worth it. You’ll be hunted down,” she warns.
Wolf wraps his arm around me, pulling me close as another clipboard approaches. I can’t take another moment of this. I give Wolf a kiss, then stand.
“Okay, I’m going to save everyone some time,” I announce. The buzzing room turns and looks at us. “Neither one of us cares how this goes. We don’t care if there’s a glitter cannon or fireworks. We don’t care if it’s vanilla cake or red velvet. We don’t care if my gown is gold, white, pearl, or ivory. We honestly don’t care. We want to say our vows and be each other’s eternity.”
Wolf rises next to me. “Because that’s all that matters.”
The people in the room don’t know what to do. “So, we’re out. Have fun making all of the decisions. Chloe will be happy to answer any questions you have,” I say.
Chloe’s eyes widen as she looks at me like I’ve betrayed her. I wink, take Wolf’s hand, and we run from the room. We’re laughing as we rush away, feeling free for the first time since we announced we were getting married.
We’re on the island and know it’s not safe to go to his house where we can be found. We rush to the Glenmore Plaza Hotel, are fortunate enough to get the suite, then close ourselves inside. We order food and wine from room service. When it arrives, we move to the balcony and collapse on the cozy couch as we gaze at the harbor and drink copious amounts of wine.
“No more dresses, seating charts, toasts, samples, just you and me,” he says with a sigh of satisfaction.
“It will be you and me from here on out.”
We’re in heaven with our phones turned off and our lives stretched out before us. We’ll get through this torture, and in the end, it will all be worth it.
“I love you, Mr. Young.”
“I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Young.”
I lean against him with a sigh. It doesn’t get better than this, the two of us alone on a beautiful balcony, looking out at a peaceful ocean. Whoever’s so excited about the actual ceremony can plan it all. They get their good time, and we get ours.
“It doesn’t matter how the wedding goes or what food we eat. All that matters is you and I become husband and wife,” I tell him.
“You won’t have regrets if they pick the wrong things?”
“Not a single one. All of that is simply noise. What’s important is that we’re together.”
He pulls me close, and I lean into him, exactly where I’m meant to be. This is heaven. The chaos might be a part of life, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. The peace at the end of the storm is what we’re living for.