Chapter 14 He Jinxed It
He Jinxed It
MARI
The reception glittered like a storybook come to life.
Fairy lights danced across crystal, laughter bubbled over the string quartet’s melody, and Lia and Manny couldn’t stop beaming at each other as they moved from table to table, greeting their guests.
The Royal Gardens ballroom had transformed from merely beautiful to magical under our direction, and I allowed myself a moment of pure, unfiltered pride.
We’d pulled it off. Perfectly. Even Devonna’s fuckbuddy Garrett looked bored, leaning against a wall with no one to toss out.
“You’re looking entirely too pleased with yourself,” Hudson said, appearing at my side with two flutes of champagne. He had loosened his tie, and his hair was a touch disheveled from running his hands through it.
“I have every right to be pleased with myself,” I replied, accepting the champagne. “We just orchestrated the wedding of the year without a single disaster. Not one drunk uncle. Not one sobbing bridesmaid. Not even a minor cake catastrophe.”
“The night’s still young.”
“Don’t you dare jinx us, Gable.” I clinked my glass against his. “To perfect weddings and brilliant partnerships.”
Something flickered across his face. It vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.
“Speaking of partnerships,” I ventured, the bubbles from the champagne giving me courage, “have you thought any more about what I said earlier? About the partnership and the app?”
Hudson’s shoulders tensed. “Mari, about that—”
“I know, I know. It’s a big ask. And maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I mean, we’ve only been working together for a few months, and the other thing—” I gestured vaguely between us “—is even newer. So if you think it’s too soon or too complicated, I totally get it.”
“It’s not that.” His voice had gone tight, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
My stomach dropped. He was going to turn me down. Of course he was. Hudson came from a legacy wedding planner family. He didn’t need to hitch his wagon to my star. What had I been thinking? God, I was an idiot.
“Hey, no big deal.” I forced a laugh, trying to salvage my pride before he could reject me outright. “It was just an idea. Maybe not even a serious one. We can forget I ever mentioned it.”
“Mari—”
“Hudson! There you are!”
We both turned toward the voice, and if possible, Hudson went even more rigid beside me.
An older couple approached us, arms interlaced.
The woman wore an elegant silver gown, and the man wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo that screamed old money.
I didn’t need an introduction to know exactly who they were.
“Mother, Father.” Hudson’s voice had shifted into something more formal. Less relaxed. “I was just about to look for you.”
Liar, I thought, noting how his fingers had tightened around his champagne flute.
“We’ve been watching the festivities,” the woman said, her gaze sliding over me before returning to her son. “Quite... contemporary.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting. Contemporary. In Mrs. Gable’s vocabulary, that was probably one step above “tacky.”
“Mari,” Hudson said, his hand coming to rest at the small of my back, “these are my parents, Arthur and Jemma Gable. Mother, Father, this is Mari Landry, my partner for the Kussikov-Martin wedding.”
I extended my hand, professional smile firmly in place. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both. Hudson speaks highly of you.”
If Hudson was going to do it, I was going to as well.
“Does he?” Jemma’s handshake was brief, her smile not reaching her eyes. “How interesting. He’s told us very little about you beyond your... previous association.”
The emphasis on “previous” couldn’t have been clearer if she’d used air quotes.
“You mean the video,” I said, offering a too-sweet smile. “Yes, that was quite the weekend, wasn’t it, Hudson?”
Next to me, Hudson cleared his throat. “Yes. Certainly was.”
Arthur Gable didn’t even bother with a handshake, merely nodding in my direction. “Ms. Landry, I understand you play some role in a small wedding planning service in New York, correct?”
The dismissal in his tone made my teeth clench. Years building Knot Your Average Wedding into a profitable, well-known business reduced to “a small wedding planning service”—as if I spent my days posting cat memes instead of orchestrating six-figure events.
“Among other things,” I replied, downing the rest of my champagne. “Knot Your Average Wedding offers full-service planning with a focus on personalized experiences. Our approach integrates traditional elements with modern innovations to create weddings that feel both timeless and contemporary.”
I’d slipped into my pitch voice without even realizing it. Jemma’s eyebrow arched, while Arthur’s expression remained impassive.
“Hmm,” was all he said.
Hudson’s hand pressed more firmly against my back. I couldn’t tell if it was in support or warning. I hoped for the former, but expected the latter. Probably a good reminder that his parents were not mine. I could give them respect, even if they didn’t deserve it. My smile widened.
“Mari is being modest,” Hudson said. “She’s built an impressive client roster here in Chicago to expand their business. The Kussikov-Martin wedding is just the first in a series of high-profile events she’s orchestrated.”
I glanced at him, pleased with the defense. His gaze remained fixed on his parents.
“Well,” Jemma said, her smile thinning, “it’s certainly... colorful. The ceremony arrangements were quite expressive.”
“Thank you,” I said, as if she’d paid me a genuine compliment. “Lia and Manny wanted something that reflected their love story while honoring their unique personalities and traditions. The fusion approach allowed us to—”
“Hudson!”
We all turned to see a striking silver-haired woman in statement glasses approaching our little group. Hudson’s hand trembled on my back.
“Eleanor,” Jemma’s voice warmed considerably. “How wonderful you could make it. I was just telling Hudson how much we’re looking forward to tomorrow’s dinner.”
Eleanor? As in...
“Eleanor Trolio,” Hudson murmured near my ear, confirming my suspicion. “Editor-in-chief of Modern Wedding.”
Oh. My. God.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled under my breath.
The champagne turned sour in my stomach as the editor of the most prestigious wedding publication in the country joined our circle. Her gaze assessed me briefly before dismissing me entirely, focusing on Hudson with undisguised interest.
“Hudson, darling, the execution is even more impressive than I expected. You’ve brought such vision to this event.”
Vision? My vision, actually. But before I could open my mouth to introduce myself, Jemma Gable spoke again.
“Eleanor, this is Ms. Landry. She assisted Hudson with some of the technical aspects of today’s event.”
Assisted? What the hell?
Hudson’s hand dropped from my back as he reached to shake Mrs. Trolio’s hand. I glanced at him, expecting him to correct his mother. He remained silent.
When he didn’t, I cleared my throat and held out my hand.
“Co-planner, actually. Hudson and I are equal partners on this project.”
Mrs. Trolio’s handshake was brief. “Hudson has mentioned you were involved. How refreshing to have some... youthful energy in the process.”
Youthful energy? I was nearly thirty, not sixteen. I maintained my smile while mentally composing a scathing review of her statement earrings.
“I’ve been a subscriber to Modern Wedding since college,” I said instead. “Your layout redesign three years ago was revolutionary.”
“How observant.” Her tone suggested I’d surprised her by forming complete sentences.
Great. She was as much of a bitch as Hudson’s mother.
“The constellation mapping you designed is incredible, Hudson. And the emotional storytelling approach is exactly what our readers are craving,” she continued, turning fully towards him.
“The way you’ve integrated the couple’s narrative throughout the design elements. Well, it’s remarkably cohesive.”
My constellation mapping idea. My emotional storytelling approach. The one Hudson had initially called “unnecessarily sentimental” during one of our first planning sessions.
Again, I waited for him to correct her, to mention that this had been my concept from the beginning. The silence stretched. Why did it look like Hudson was accepting the praise with a modest nod? What. The. Hell.
“And those custom digital elements,” Mrs. Trolio continued, gesturing to the QR-coded signs around the room for people to submit photos to the couples digital photo album, or the one by the DJ set up where people could request songs, all of which I’d painstakingly designed. “So innovative.”
Another of my ideas. One Hudson had initially questioned as “potentially tacky.”
This was fine. He was just being gracious, accepting compliments in the moment. He’d redirect the credit eventually.
“Well,” I jumped in, “we wanted to create something that balanced tradition with personal touches. The digital integration was a way to—”
“Hudson,” Mrs. Trolio cut me off as if I hadn’t spoken, “about that proposal you sent. It’s extraordinary. A planning application that democratizes the process while maintaining luxury standards? The board is extremely impressed.”
The room tilted. My proposal? My app?
“Hudson?” The room swallowed my voice. God, I couldn’t breathe.
“When did you have time to put together such a comprehensive business plan?” she asked him. “It’s remarkably thorough for someone with your schedule.”
Business plan? I hadn’t even shown Hudson my business plan. I’d mentioned only the general concept to him. Maybe it wasn’t the same. Maybe he’d come up with an idea that looked and smelled and tasted and sounded and felt exactly like mine.
“I’ve been developing the concept for some time,” Hudson replied, not meeting my eyes. “It’s been a... personal passion project.”