52 Miranda
Three weeks later…
TRYING WAS GOING to be the death of me.
Truth and fidelity in a committed relationship should have been a given. Or so I’d always thought when I watched my parents together. My whole life, they had loved each other completely. Respect had been the anchor of their relationship, and it meant they were faithful to each other.
Was it so wrong to wish for the same with Will? Today, I was too damn tired to even care.
Earlier, at the SJI picnic, I had put on a happy face in front of everyone. Naturally, Will had used it to his advantage, kissing me every chance he got. It wasn’t awful. I still loved Will, but our relationship had been more than a little strained since the photo of him with the blonde had smacked me in the face.
I walked in a circle, taking in the gorgeous ballroom. “Another magnificent wedding.” I sighed wistfully. My crew had already left for the night. It was only Tate and me tying up some loose ends while we waited for Lily to arrive with the finishing touch: the essential cake topper.
The eve of the Colby-Asher wedding mirrored every other event I’d planned. After all the planning, bonding with my brides, and the ever-delicate topic of finances with the grooms, the night before the big day made me emotional.
I likened the experience to raising a child and sending them out into the world.
It was incredibly bittersweet.
Except earlier in the week, I had felt like a pre-marital therapist with Melissa Asher. Talk about an oxymoron, considering my relationship was on the rocks. I’d taken her panicked calls and talked her off the ledge three times. It had been a stressor in my life, one I didn’t need or want, but she was my bride and I wouldn’t abandon her days before her wedding.
Still, planning magical weddings didn’t mean squat about my own love life.
I poured my heart into every event so my brides could have their fairy-tale wedding. Somehow, they believed I lived a perfect and romantic life with my prince charming, Will.
God, I wished it were true.
So many times, Will had strutted into my office bearing flowers or my favorite coffee or a sweet treat while I was working with a bride. She’d gaze at him with stars in her eyes. He would flash his panty-melting grin and sweetly kiss me, and the bride would swoon.
Hell, I had swooned too.
Then, following Will’s brief interruption, I’d get twenty questions about us. Most I answered truthfully. Others I dodged and some received a flat-out lie.
My brides didn’t need to know if I was deliriously happy. Some days I could answer yes. Others I was out of my mind with heartache. But to my blissful brides, I needed to be in love all the time.
I wouldn’t have complained if I were blissful like them.
Once upon a time, I had been genuinely in love and ecstatically happy. It wasn’t about love anymore. I loved Will with all my heart and probably would for the rest of my life. But I was drowning in a sea of lies and betrayals, bobbing in the ocean as I waited for an epic wave to end it all.
I shook my head, jerking myself out of my depressing thoughts. I reviewed my checklist once more, making sure all the Ts were crossed and Is dotted.
The ballroom at The Hills Country Club was breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers, luxurious ivory silk linens, long-stemmed red roses, and an incredible view of the Pacific Ocean beyond the wall of windows… It overwhelmed me with excitement... and longing.
The majestic and elegant ballroom was my absolute favorite venue. The St. James family would have approved. It would have been perfect for mine and Will’s wedding. If only he had gotten his act together. He still could,maybe. And if so, I’d say yes if he asked me to marry him.
Maybe I was a fool, still hoping for a future with Will. But I couldn’t help it. I was so hopelessly in love with him.
“Hey, she’s ten minutes out,” Tate said, rolling cables into a meticulous bundle.
“Thanks. I think the room is sweet perfection.”
“As always.” He grinned, looking over his shoulder. He wasn’t wrong.
After all the planning, time, labor, and sleepless nights that had stressed me out, I was rewarded with aperfectevent. If music were playing, I might have done my happy dance as I gushed gleefully over my masterpiece.
Some might find me ridiculous for swooning over every wedding I planned. But I didn’t care what anyone thought. Moments like these were why I had become an event planner. Getting to share in a couple’s special day, a celebration of their love and commitment to each other filled me with hope for the future. And when the big moment arrived for the “I dos,” mushy love feels coursed through my veins, every single time.