In a world of money, fame, and all the champagne that came with it, Camsy Colbert, the famous wedding planner, was alone. But it was fine; she was totally cool with being single. Men could never hold a steady relationship anyway.
She's invited to he...
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Five years later
÷•÷•÷
For me, weddings were the hardest event to plan.
You had to do everything perfectly, from the decorations to the food. And if the tiniest detail went out of the plan, you had the bride-to-be to answer.
But this wasn't the main reason weddings were hard to plan, at least not for me. Almost five years ago, when my career in wedding planning had just begun, I was struggling-struggling to plan the little wedding parties I was supposed to. But then, one particular wedding I planned gained public attention and shoved me into a world of constant wedding planning.
Now everyone wanted the famous Camsy Colbert to plan their wedding. My manager and best friend was always yelling at someone on the phone, trying to explain that I was busy because I was always busy.
Sounds of wedding preparations in progress filled the air around me to the brim. At one corner, the florist stood at the top of a ladder, attaching rows of white, black, and red roses to the wall in a decorative pattern; roses that cost a shit load of money to transport from Los Angeles to Hawaii here.
I winced when one of the white roses fell from his arrangement, twirling in the air and dropping to the floor at my feet, touching the tip of my black Prada sandals. My attention snapped to his figure at the top of the not-so-sturdy ladder.
"Careful with those flowers."
He jumped a little, almost causing the ladder to topple over with him at its peak. After gaining his balance, he looked down at me and bit his lip. "Sorry, Miss Colbert."
I scoffed and walked away.
"Miss Colbert!"
I turned to face the young lady approaching me with identical fabrics hanging from either of her arms. One of my brows raised, urging her to speak.
"I found two different fabrics for the window decorations." She lifted both her arms in the air for me to see. After scrutinizing the two of them and seeing no difference, I frowned.
"They are the same," I said to her, pointing to one of the fabrics. "I ordered identical silk materials because the bride asked for it, and the deliveries were all double-checked."
"Well." She dropped one of her arms, leaving only one hanging in the air. "This one is thicker than all the others."
My frown deepened, curse words flying off the tip of my tongue. From a distance, I heard something fall to the floor with a loud crash that caused the girl before me to wince sharply. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to think about the chaos. I tried to block out the voice in my head, calculating the money someone had just tossed out the window.
"Where's Simone?" I asked through closed eyelids and gritted teeth.
"I-I think she-"
The girl's statement was cut off when the sharp, bossy voice of my best friend and manager, Simone Lancaster, boomed through the ballroom.
