30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Dallas
Have you heard how Valentina’s ankle is doing? I text Beck.
Last night, Leo’s date, Valentina, injured herself when she was walking down the hall to the bathroom with the rest of the girls. In this case, it wasn’t a good idea that they all went to the bathroom together—as groups of girls have done since the invention of indoor plumbing—because, due to their talking, Valentina tripped and fell, landing on her ankle wrong.
Beck texts back. It’s a sprain, not a break, so that’s good. Still, I feel bad for her.
Me : Did she have to miss the dance?
Beck: They managed to get to Prom late after Leo and Valentina’s parents took her to the clinic for x-rays. Leo says she insisted on still going. Said she rocked the crutches and was a really good sport about it.
Me: Very glad to hear that!
Beck: So? What about you? You ready for this wedding today?
I proceed to send him a long text with every emoji showcasing every emotion I can find that aptly describes how I’m feeling. Immature? Probably. But I have no regrets.
I don’t have time for regrets. I have to make everything come together perfectly today.
*****
I arrive at the venue early, grateful it’s a beautiful, sunny day. Beck and his friends Perry, Duke, King, and Coop are already there, unboxing the event chairs and setting them up in even rows on the beach.
There’s no time to dip Beck and kiss him into next Tuesday, but I do give him a massive hug. It’s interrupted by Mary asking me a question about the tablecloths through my headset.
Such is the life of a wedding planner.
Lila is radiant in her frolicky, just above the knee, ivory dress. As the first bride of the season, I couldn’t have asked for a better fit. In the planning stages, she was easy to please, the mayor and her husband were appropriately detached yet supportive, and her fiancé Ryan? Tenderly in love with Lila.
Really, things couldn’t have gone better in planning this wedding. Granted, when I came on the job, much of it had already been done. But to take their visions and mesh them with their ancestral mansion was like symphonic clockwork.
Which is exactly why I’m freaking out.
Because every wedding, and I mean every single one, has something bad happen at some point. It’s a bad omen if nothing at least slightly catastrophic hasn’t happened by Day Zero.
And it’s Day Zero. It’s Hour Zero and everything’s been fine. Which means something’s about to go horribly wrong.
I’m not a pessimist. I’m just speaking from experience. Years of experience planning weddings of all shapes and sizes: something will go wrong.
Not “accidentally send the cakes to the wrong receptions” wrong, but wrong enough.
The only thing that’s keeping me from climbing into the honeymoon suite’s huge tub, curling up in a ball, and singing sad Taylor Swift songs to myself is the thought of Beck.
We had a glorious time kissing at the mansion last night, before Leo’s date got injured. And today, we’ve been texting each other like preteens who just got their first phones.
It feels like he’s my boyfriend and best friend all wrapped up in one—that perfect combo that has always eluded me. He even had flowers delivered to my place this morning. Pale lavender hydrangeas. Large, perfectly scented, layered petals of loveliness, with a note that read: Best of luck on wedding number one, my sweet Dallas.
“My sweet Dallas.” I like being his Dallas.
And I know—feel it to my bones—that we were meant to meet here in Willow Cove. As bad as the fallout from the Clancy and Bozzelli weddings has been, I’m grateful for it because it led me to Beck.
I lied a little the other night, when I told him I liked him. I’m also falling in love with him, and that fact is buzzing inside of me, adding to the anticipation and nerves of the day.
I refuse to monopolize their time anymore, so I encourage Beck and his friends to leave midafternoon, thanking them for their help.
Just because I encourage it, doesn’t mean I like seeing him leave.
A couple of hours later, Lila is nearly ready in the bride’s room, and I leave her to do one last walk through of the outdoor seating area. It’s already nearly filled to capacity, the various guests talking happily amongst themselves. I can feel the Willow Cove comradery. The officiant is casually chatting with the father of the groom, and Ryan is sitting nearby, excited energy oozing from him. It’s nearly six, and everything’s supposed to culminate in the reception, winding down just as the sun sets in about three hours. Lila and Ryan wanted to literally fly off into the sunset to a nearby island on Beck’s friend Coop’s seaplane.
Just three hours to go. Is it too much to ask that we get just three more hours of perfection? I’d settle for near perfection.
Yes, yes, it is too much to ask. I know this, and my heart rate ratchets up at this thought.
I squeeze the stress ball I have tucked inside the pocket of the tool belt (I refuse to call it a fanny pack) that I’m wearing over my silvery halter top dress. I’m grateful that I was finally able to find the time to go get my nails done at the salon here in town. My nails had been in bad shape with my suddenly adopted compulsion to pick at them. The stress!
But everything’s okay now. And look at me. I’m even wearing bow-knot ballet flats in pearlescent gray. Flats. Who knew I could feel comfortable and confident at the same time?
I feel good in this dress, which helps. I have a lot of wedding-appropriate dresses, naturally, and this one’s arguably my best.
And yes, I wore this dress for Beck. No shame.
Not that he’ll be here. But I wore it in honor of him. Which sounds weird. But truly, we wouldn’t have made it without his leadership and his dedication to finishing the project on time. I may have to ask the photographer to snap a photo of me so I can send it to him.
“Dallas?” Martha Dobbs, looking beautiful in her peachy-pink floral maxi-length dress, places a hand on my arm. Her smile is tight, her eyes wild.
Oh no. Is this it?
“You look stunning, Mayor Dobbs.”
She breathes out a short breath. “Thank you. I was wondering if I could speak with you?”
“Of course.” I gesture to the small hut where the DJ is sitting, ready to go with his sound equipment, and where I’m storing essentials like tissue boxes and umbrellas—just in case.
Her eyes are pooling with tears before we even get to the hut. Alarming since she’s not the weepy type. Then again, her daughter is getting married in a few minutes. The most stoic of moms have been known to cry at this point.
“How can I help you?” I ask softly once we’re inside.
She juts out her chin. “First of all, I want you to know that I heard about the incident involving Valentina Rice.”
“Oh.”
“That you and Beck allowed minors into the wedding venue that I own, without my knowledge or permission, and then proceeded to leave them unsupervised for over forty-five minutes, is not acceptable.”
I nod, a lump growing in my throat. She’s right. I just wasn’t aware she hadn’t given her permission.
“Dallas, Valentina Rice’s father is on the YMCA board. I don’t think I need to explain why that’s problematic.”
“You’re right. I am so sorry.” I take in a deep breath, ready to keep apologizing further, when she interrupts me.
“We have a more pressing matter, though. Lila’s father and I were going to surprise her with her grandmother’s teardrop pearl earrings, but they’re nowhere to be found. I kept thinking they’d turn up as we got her dressed and ready, but so far, there’s no sign of them.”
“Oh no. You say ‘surprise.’ So she doesn’t know about them yet, correct?”
The mayor nods.
“Let’s keep it that way for now. I can stall things for a few minutes longer.” I brighten in a smile. “Where did you see them last?”
“I don’t know. I thought I just put them in one of my bags, but I’ve dumped them all out and nothing. I wanted her to walk down the aisle in them. Her grandmother passed away a couple of years ago, and she would have loved to have been here.” Martha’s eyes glitter with tears again.
“If Lila’s all ready, let’s have her move to the top of the grand staircase and my assistant and I can go in the dressing room and look one more time.” I take in a slow breath, nodding so the mayor follows my lead and breathes, too. “It’s going to be a really good day. What a beautiful moment in your family’s history taking place in an actual piece of your family’s history.”
Her eyes blink rapidly, and she gives a brave smile before leaving the hut.
I turn to the DJ. “Are you married?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. Keep it that way,” I say with a smile and a laugh.
I’m kidding.
Mostly.
A flash of me having to take down Lila and Ryan’s invitation from my board has me feeling dizzy. What is wrong with me? I’m already wondering if they’re not going to make it?
Come on, Dallas! Don’t torture yourself.
I find Mary, who’s tightening the satin ties hanging from the sweeping hanging lights and recruit her to help. This delay will only be five minutes. That does not warrant an announcement to the attendees. If it stretches into ten, then maybe.
She and I search the bride’s room, checking the various shelves and baskets of supplies. Eight minutes in, and there’s no sign of the earrings. I meet Lila’s mom’s eyes at the top of the stairs and shake my head in empathy. She lowers hers in defeat. I reach Lila and grab her hand.
“Gorgeous!” I say brightly. “You are glowing, Lila.” I reach up to her earrings, diamond studs in a cushion cut. “And I love your earrings.”
She touches her right ear. “Thanks. So, can I get married now?”
The rest of the wedding party laughs. “Yes, you can,” I say. “If everyone’s ready, I’ll let downstairs know it’s time to start.”
After enthusiastic yesses, I speak into my headset to Mary to let her know the wedding is a go.
The photographer takes pictures of everyone descending the staircase while I whisper to the mayor that we’ll continue looking for the earrings in a moment. After I’ve ushered the whole party to the back door, we wait until we hear the music. The flower girl and ring bearer step through the doors and onto the carpeted walkway across the sand. The audience turns to look in anticipation.
The music floats above the sound of the waves. Finally, Lila, flanked on either side by her parents, steps out into the sun. It’s my favorite part of any wedding, the moment the groom sees the bride and their eyes meet. It’s the only part where I allow myself to feel anything besides anticipation for the next thing I need to do.
And Ryan’s gaze does not disappoint. His eyes soften, his mouth drops open, and his breath is shaky. Even though Lila’s back is to me, I feel the same reaction from her.
Is this why I do what I do? For this front-row seat to unabashed love?
Maybe so.
Beck flashes through my mind, which is why, as I turn to close the doors, and I see him, I wonder, briefly, if I merely conjured up an image of him using my really stellar imagination.
No. It’s him.
He’s standing down the hall, just inside the kitchen of the mansion, wearing a light gray suit, a coral-toned tie that fits the aesthetic of the wedding perfectly, and a slow smile that’s spreading across his face as he takes me in.
Oh, yeah. I’m in my best dress. And even though the little toolbelt around my waist is probably affecting the vibe, he doesn’t seem to care.
Because the way Ryan was looking at Lila? It was nothing compared to how Beck is looking at me.