When a 22 year old wedding planner gets booked to plan a wedding for NBA star Ja Morant and his millionaire fiancée, she finds herself being the only thing from keeping them from saying, "I do." With family secrets and affairs, the woman has to try...
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"You look so cute," Kristy tells me as I walk in the door.
"Thank you. I tried that cherry cola lip combo you showed me on TikTok. I think it's my new favorite," I say, placing my bag on my office.
"I cleaned in here."
"It smells so good girl," I tell her, trying to find where that vanilla scent was coming from.
"I got this new candle from bath and body works," she smiles, pointing at it.
"It smells so good I wanna eat it," I joke and she shakes her head at me.
"Me too."
"What's wrong," I ask her, sitting down. Something is wrong. She has yet to comment on the fact that the coffee machine is broken, which I know her addicted behind went check. "Or should I say, what's right."
"Nothing," she replies and I roll my eyes.
"Nothing," I mock her.
"Okay so I woke up with this random ass number typed into my phone-"
"You're welcome," I respond, pulling out my sketch book to finish up the touches on Naomi's dress. After meeting her and getting her sizes and style, everything about the dress came naturally. It's going to be so beautiful. I just need her input on it, and pray her mother likes it too.
"He's actually a really great guy," she says, smiling wide. "Thank you for being such a good friend and not letting me go with him."
"You could barely walk. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you," I respond, holding up my sketch book. "Whatchu think?"
"Y/n! This is beautiful. Is this for that snobby ass girl?"
"Yes it is. And her name is Naomi, okay? We don't gossip about clients-"
"Until the wedding's over. I know," she finishes. "But she's such a bitch. Don't you agree?"
I slightly nod my head, pulling out my binder to plan the bridal shower and the bachelor party.
"Say it. She's a bitch."
"Kristen, leave with all that profanity, please."
"Come on," she bugs me. "You can even say it in Spanish."
"Bitch, get out," I say, throwing a fake flower at her.
"You're a bad bad girl Miss Monroe," she jokes, closing the door behind her. I chuckle to myself and pull up my Pinterest board on my monitor. I've been so focused on the bride, I forgot the groom even existed. I check my files for information about him and his thoughts on the bachelor's party. But there isn't any. I search up and down for the number but there isn't one. All I know is that his last name is Ja Morant and he's a NBA player.
