The Wedding Planner

2

When the doorbell rings the following day, I am expecting my dashing delivery man. 'John', his name tag read. John, the name imprinted in my mind, for me to never forget. I was impatient to see him again, fantasising about all the things we would talk about in our next meeting, like how coincidental it was that I should see him again, or maybe he would joke about how frequently I order parcels. Checking the delivery time of the parcel, it read 3-5pm, so by 2 I was dressed for the occasion. A figure hugging white vest top that clung to my curves, showing off just the right amount of cleavage that I fortunately possessed. On my lower half, a pair of tight blue jeans – uncomfortable for home wear but necessary for catching his eye. As for my hair, I had nearly split my Denman brush into two by how hard I tugged at my curls and dragged them back into a tight bun. Sweat formed across my crown as I did so, but I didn't wipe it in the hopes that it would give me a somewhat glowy look. I sat patiently awaiting the doorbell.

Hours passed, until at 5 on the dot I finally heard that chime I was patiently awaiting. I sped to the door, anticipating his beautiful face gleaming back at me, however as I twisted my doorknob and swung it open, an older, more miserable face met my own.

'Parcel for Quinn Worsely,' he said, his eyes falling to my chest which I had forgotten was shamelessly out. I sighed at the sight of him, short, stubbly with a receding hairline and grey streaks. Not John.

Irritably snatching the parcel out of his hand, I went to go and shut the door, only to be met with his boot preventing me from doing so.

'Erm, excuse me,' he interjected, and stuck out a tablet with a dotted line where I should sign.

'Is that all?', I asked, handing the tablet back to him in frustration.

'That's all, have a good day madam!' he said as he made his way to the lift. I stood in the doorway defeated for a while as I watch the back of him disappear with the closing of the lift doors. John was now a distant memory, replaced by the elderly, sullen face I had just seen. I looked at the screenshot from the security footage on my phone one last time, realising my chances of seeing John again were slim, I deleted the picture. Time to move on.

One of the bonuses of my work is my flexible schedule. Tomorrow, I meet two new clients, but the remainder of the day I spend lounging on my sofa with Twinky beside me keeping me company. Jane and Gavin are on their honeymoon now, I see a picture of them on Instagram basking in the Maldives. Jane is in a swimming pool posing with Gavin beside her, they look happy. Their wedding took place in an old-fashioned barn I had found them, it was decorated with fairy lights and lanterns that lit up the space. It was like being under stars. They invited me to the reception out of courtesy, where all my hard work was shown in all its glory. 'Well done, Quinn!' 'Amazing work!', they complimented me. How I managed to transform a barren barn into a wedding venue fit for royalty is something that will always amaze me. I'm good at what I do, no one can take that away from me.

'We'll keep in contact!', is also something Jane and Gavin promised me. That was following on from our brunch two days ago. I haven't heard from them since. I dropped them a call yesterday, but they didn't answer. I had assumed it was because they were busy on their honeymoon, but if they have time to post on Instagram, surely they can respond to me. They promised. I rang Jane's number on my phone only to be met with a series of rings and eventually the message that she was unavailable to answer. Strange. I rung Gavin too, only to be met with the same thing. They're avoiding me, I know it, just like all my other clients do after I'm done with them. I sigh, first John, now this. I thought our friendship meant more than that. After a few hours I call again only to hear a loud beep and the call cancelling. Blocked, I say to myself. I saw this coming; it always ends like this. I just hope my new clients tomorrow are different.