The Wedding Planner

2

The day after the wedding I sat in my office, a dozen photographs of different flower arrangements laid out on the large wooden desk in front of me. I had taken time to design my office just the way I wanted when I finally had the funds to rent out the space. It was small, with only a small waiting room and a back room which I had turned into my personal space. I wanted it to feel romantic and almost resemble a wedding venue. In the space outside my office, the walls were painted a light, dove grey and there were plush cream colored chairs for clients to wait on. Nathan's desk sat next to my door and was dark wood with a large apple computer on top of it. We always made sure to have a different flower arrangement sitting on it. Usually, the bride and groom allowed us to take flowers home from their wedding so we rarely had to pay for them.

My office was painted cream and my big, glorious dark wooden desk sat in the middle of it. My big desk chair was cream with gold hardware. A small couch sat against the wall, where Nathan and I spent most of our time when we didn't have clients in. I had photographs of weddings I worked on all over the walls.

I loved it here; it was my sanctuary. Compared to my apartment, which was almost always a mess, coming here made me feel sane.

I heard a knock at the door and called out a light and cheerful, "Come in!"

Looking up, I was surprised to see Catherine, my bride from yesterday, poke her head in. She smiled at me and pushed the door fully open, striding in. She no longer looked like a bride, instead wearing a pale pink sundress and sandals, but I could still spot the wedding ring a mile away. I wondered what Dean did for a living to be able to afford that ring, but since my own prices weren't cheap I guessed it had to be something with a fat paycheck.

Catherine approached my desk and handed me a check, which had her curvy handwriting all over it. Upon inspection, I realized it was my final payment. "You could've sent this in the mail," I say, slightly shocked, "Shouldn't you be halfway to Bali by now?"

She laughed, "We're actually on the way to the airport now. I wanted to bring it in person, so I could properly thank you for everything you did. It was the perfect wedding."

She was beaming, and my heart swelled with pride, the kind you only get by knowing you did well at your job. "You made a wonderful bride; my job was easy. Have a wonderful honeymoon, you deserve it."

I turned my attention back down to the work on my desk, expecting her to exit the room and go back down to where I'm sure her new husband was waiting in a cab. When I still felt her presence, I looked up with a confused expression. "Sorry, was there anything else?"

She looked like she was holding back a huge grin. "I might be overstepping," she began. I inwardly groaned, hoping this wasn't another bride trying to set me up. Newly married couples always do this thing where they want everyone else around them to feel the bliss they're in. Usually, this meant trying to set up their very single wedding planner with a friend or brother. In the beginning, I had agreed to a few blind dates this way but after experiencing those disasters I had stopped saying yes. "But my husbands friend couldn't stop asking about you."

"Oh?" I ask absentmindedly as I lifted a bridal magazine and began to flip through the marked pages.

"Noah Ashton."

That got my attention. I looked up and watched her smirk at my expression. "He asked about me?" I felt my face get somehow hot at the memory of the gorgeous groomsman from that night before.

"He did." She reached into her purse, which hung from her elbow, and pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. She leaned over my desk and scribbled on it before handing it to me. On the paper was a phone number and the name 'Noah Ashton'. "Give him a call or don't, I just thought it was the least I could do to stop by after all your help. I could never repay you."

I motion towards the check, which had been sitting on the desk. "This is more than enough, seriously it was my pleasure."

Catherine tossed her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. "I know, I'm just on cloud nine right now and I'm dying to play matchmaker." After seeing my unsure expression, she continued, "I know I've pestered you about this before, and I know you said you weren't looking for a serious relationship right now."

It was true that over the past 4 months Catherine and I had briefly talked about my love life, or lack of it. Clients almost always ask me if I'm married, considering I'm helping plan their wedding.

I gave her my usual response, saying that the business was so busy right now that I didn't have time to date, which was partially true. I had more clients than ever, and my work days seemed to be getting longer each month, but mainly I was single because I didn't put the effort into the dating scene. I spent all day at work and all-night thinking about work and I was at a wedding almost every weekend. I really didn't have the time to get serious with a man right now.

Plus, I'd never done "not serious". I was the type of person who didn't see the point in casually dating and wasting my time with someone where the end game wasn't marriage. I spent my weekends watching couples recite vows and promise to be with each other forever; casual dating with loser men didn't appeal to me anymore. I wanted the big love, the kind you read about in novels and fall asleep thinking about. The kind of love where if you don't see each other for a day you feel like you're going to explode.

"Noah's a great guy and he doesn't do serious relationships. If you're looking for something fun, give him a call."

Just like that, the perfect guy from the wedding is reduced to a mere memory. Oh well.

Catherine's gaze travels to the expensive watch on her wrist and she cringes. "Oops, I should get back to the cab, don't want to miss my flight to my honeymoon," she sings the last word and gives me a little wave before quickly exiting my office.

After she's gone, I try to go back to concentrating on my work but I feel completely distracted. I reach over and pick up the napkin, my thumb brushing over the writing of his name.

"No, Ellery," I tell myself sternly. I pick it up and walk over to the trash can in the corner of my office, pressing on the lever with my stiletto heel so the top pops open. I dropped the paper into the trashcan and wiped my hands on my dress, hoping to clear myself of all thoughts of the handsome man.

"Back to weddings."