Bangkok (That Wedding Girl Book 3) Page 6

  Yvonne giggles but Terry looks unamused.

  “With the decoration of the church, I’ll keep most of the focus on the liturgy, and of course nothing on the altar. I’ve contacted the church and they have their own banners, candles, and statues, so I will respect their needs.”

  They both nod.

  “And you have already booked the reception with the hotel, which, according to Gabe, you don’t need any assistance with?”

  “Yes,” they both say in unison.

  “And the priest of this church is Father Michael, correct?”

  They both nod again.

  “Okay! Well in the meantime here is a draft run sheet for the rehearsal and the day itself. It should match up all the times you have provided in accordance with the church booking, and it should give you time with the photographer. As you can see I have included the nuptial mass before, the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and Sacrament of Matrimony.”

  They grab the piece of paper and study it furiously. After a few moments, Terry points at a certain bit on the paper. “A whole hour with the photographer? Aren’t we going to be just taking a few photos outside the church?”

  “Well, then there’s the photos of family, friends. Then there are photos by the altar—”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Fine, fine. It’s not like we’re going to look at them after. My parents are paying for it anyway, who cares.”

  I force myself to stop gritting my teeth. And where are his parents to show him some manners?

  Suddenly the church door opens, is it the parish priest? No, instead a blond guy walks in. He has short spiky hair and is wearing flip flops - at a church of all places! Gabe’s eyes widen instantly, and I know he would much rather look at him than Terry. Blond guy walks over and pats Terry on the back and for the first time since I’ve met him, Terry smiles. I didn’t think he knew how to move the corners of his mouth. He acknowledges everybody until he settles his eyes on me, looking at me curiously.

  “Lacey, this is Dean. The best man.”

  I give him a soft smile and look back to my notepad, keen to resume the topic at hand.

  “Just to confirm, the hour is still fine?”

  “Yes.” He looks at Yvonne. “Honestly, we could have done this ourselves. It’s pretty simple stuff.”

  I can see Gabe gasp quietly from the corner of my eye. My eyes are seeing red, the colour of his face if Gabe and I had our way with him. Good one Tristan, sending me the easy ones. If I was still back at home, I would decide after the consultation whether I wanted to work with them. And in this case, it would be a hell no. I’ve had a fair few grooms show reluctance at my services but they come through in the end when they see how happy it makes their bride. This guy is on another planet however…

  Yvonne looks up at us, flashing us a wide grin. “This is fantastic! The previous wedding planner refused to contact the caterer the second time after confirming the food. And she certainly didn’t do a run sheet. Terry’s parents worked with Tristan lots of times, it only made sense to go to him again.”

  I smile warmly at Yvonne.

  “Don’t worry, this is just a draft. I’ll make amendments based on what you guys just told me.” I look at Terry, trying hard not to scowl. “I always confirm with hired services at least three times, and I will ensure any problems do not come to you.”

  Yvonne tugs Terry’s arm, obviously signalling him to say something nice. “We both really appreciate it. I feel much more comfortable about the wedding.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I still have a lot to do, but we can definitely pull this off. But feel free to call or email me anything.”

  Suddenly Yvonne looks at me, and I can see anxiety written all over her face.

  “No, I think this is exactly what we needed. We’re going to head off now and do some shopping.” She drags Terry, seemingly in a hurry to leave. Dean takes subtle look at me before following them.

  We wave goodbye and as soon as we are alone, me and Gabe look at each other in disbelief. We’re not entirely sure this wedding will even go ahead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two days pass and things are coming along smoothly, more than I expected. The meeting with Father Michael went as well as can be expected. I am able to check off a comprehensive list of what I wanted to confirm off him. The church has already organised the banns, and he has provided a copy of the church bulletin for me to review. We have gone over the ceremony run sheet and it looks like a very spiritual ceremony. Consisting of five biblical readings, Prayer of the Faithful, nuptial blessing, and prayers, the church has also reached out to the performers who will be singing Morning Has Broken and Ava Maria. The priest has been very helpful, providing assistance in revising the ceremony programs, which I intend get printed for Yvonne and Terry to review.

  I’m feeling better about this wedding; it doesn’t hurt that everyone has been incredibly helpful. I just have to fill in the blanks.

  After the meeting with Father Michael, I head off to the large printing shop on Rama IV Road to get the ceremony programs printed off. The printers are quick and efficient, and I will definitely be coming back here for any last minute emergencies. Crisp and clean, there’s not a mark on its almost sparkling surface. They have that freshly printed smell I love. I rewrap them all up and prepare to leave for the hotel.

  “Sawasdeeka!” I call out to the shop assistants, pushing the door open to walk out into the hot air.

  Shading my face with my right hand, I start walking towards the busy road in search of a taxi. It’s only a twenty-minute walk but I would much rather catch a cab in his heat. I stroll forward, eyeing a pink one sitting stationary at the curb. I raise my hand to get its attention, when someone calls my name.

  “Lacey! Hey, you there!”

  I quickly turn around to my right to look at this man calling to me. Spiky blond hair sticking out from the red cap on his head, cute smile, tanned. He looks like he’s sweltering in this heat, even in just a black tank top and shorts. I squint my eyes and lean my head forward.

  He walks up in a rather clumsy stride. “It’s me, Dean.”

  Terry’s best man I met briefly the other day.

  He walks up to me, a digital SLR camera strapped around his neck and crown tattoo on his upper right arm. And then he gives me a wide grin, which lights up his face.

  “Hey, how are you?” He stops right in front of me, and he is sweating profusely. “Where are you going?”

  “Hey! Charoen Krung Alley.”

  “Let’s share a taxi, yeah?” He stretches out his tanned arm to call the taxi and he opens the door for me, allowing me to sit in first as he gets in after me.

  “I’m surprised you remembered me.” Let alone talk to me and share a cab.

  He looks out the window and then grins back at me. Gosh, he’s cute. It’s those dimples.

  “Once I meet a face, I never forget it.”

  “So you’re the best man, hey? How are you friends with that guy?” I blurt out, embarrassed at my unprofessionalism.

  To my relief he bursts out with a loud chuckle. “A lot of people say that about him. He can be a bit brash, but he’s a good guy. And as Yvonne’s brother, I have a right to make that call.”

  Her brother? On closer thought, they do have very similar features. And he’s nice and smiley like her too.

  “What do you do with yourself, Dean?”

  “I’m teaching English in Shanghai. Been here two years and I love it.”

  “Kids or high school students?”

  “Kids, much more receptive crowd!”

  Cute, nice and works with kids? Interesting.

  “I bet you’re proud to see your sister get married, huh?”

  And I bet you won’t have to bash up a certain cheating fiancé…

  He extends his hand to the back of the seat, his fingers almost touching my face. He’s got this casual confidence that I don’t see very often.

  “They’ve been together since they were in high school. He
calms her down, she makes him laugh.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

  “I mean they do have their fights, but it’s nothing unique.”

  “You mean who took the garbage out, who flushed the toilet?”

  “Nah, more like when they should have kids, if she should still work.”

  Hold on, that doesn’t like happy couple arguments. I clear my throat, eager to change the topic. And as her brother, shouldn’t he be more alarmed?

  “Well, I’m glad they hired me. Gabe and I will do our utmost best.”

  “I’m sure you guys will. Are you planning on staying in Bangkok after the wedding?” he asks, seeming suddenly very interested.

  “No, I have to fly back home. I haven’t even seen the city to be honest…” I’ve been cooped up in my stinky and smelly motel, forced on awkward and stiff business dinners and working on the wedding.

  “I’m sure there will be some chances for you to check it out, permitting the busy wedding planner has time.”

  He flashes that oh-so-gorgeous smile and I try not to swoon. On an unprofessional note, he’s my type. I much prefer cute, skinny blond guys rather than…

  All of a sudden the taxi arrives outside his lobby and Dean pays the taxi driver 70 Baht, or $1.75. That’s a bargain if you ask me. He opens the door but turns to look at me before he gets out.

  “I’ll see you around.”

  I give him a wide grin.

  “See you!”

  He waves goodbye and as the cab drives away.

  My phone vibrates in my bag. I dig it out of my bag and check it. It’s a text from Tristan. My stomach churns, but why should I be excited? He probably wants a status update on the wedding.

  *How is everything going?*

  I quickly type something, hoping it’s satisfactory.

  *Everything is good, progressing along nicely.*

  Tristan replies as the cab pulls up to the motel. I frown when I see his message.

  *Hey, sorry I left so suddenly. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so cute all cuddled up. Are we okay?*

  I give the money to the driver, eager to get out of the cab to think of what to write in response. He looked at me when I slept? Are we okay?

  Ten minutes later and I send the best thing I can think of.

  *Yep, we’re all good. Promise*

  A part of me wants to say more, but I can’t.

  Not now, at least.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I open the door quietly, peering in. Thankfully it’s beautifully setup and I step into the spacious Spring Ballroom. Right now, it’s full of chairs but I can see just how beautiful it will be. It will be divided into two for Yvonne and Terry’s wedding. The walls are covered with a shimmering white paper and in the middle of the ceiling hangs a couple dozen white lantern lights. The ceilings are high, windows wide.

  I can see modern sliding doors, left slightly ajar to let in the scented summer air. I wish I was contracted to help with the reception too, this would have been so great if it was in my hands. I can already see what the head table can look like, white bows and silk sashes scream at me.

  Suddenly I can hear muffled sounds. At first it sounds like someone is coughing and I ignore it, walking around to myself. But then it gets louder, and louder. It’s crying, hysterical crying. The sobs are only interrupted by the person’s need to draw breath. And that person is just behind where the head table would be. Shit, it’s Yvonne. It’s the bride I just met two days ago. The bride getting married in just over forty-eight hours, and she’s here crying alone.

  I can’t ignore it, and I call out, “Are you okay?”

  Suddenly the sobs stop, and she looks into the distance in my direction.

  “Oh, it’s you…” she struggles to say, panting with every sob.

  I put my folder and phone down, striding towards her. She looks much too warm in a baggy dress that covers her knees, and I sink down to take her in my arms. She is shaking in my arms; her tears flowing unchecked. And I feel her grief, whatever the cause for it is.

  I pat her back, gently cooing her to calm down.

  “Hey, Yvonne…are you okay?” I blurt out, idiotically. She is clearly NOT okay. Yvonne raises her hand and wiped the tears dripping down her cheeks.

  I pull her to my chest where she stays until her crying subsides. When she finally looks at me, her beautiful brown eyes are swollen and sore.

  “This is super-duper embarrassing; no one was supposed to see me…” she sniffles some more.

  Good one, Ryan. Way to be a nosy wedding planner, looking at something I’m not even meant to be responsible for.

  “I’m sorry, did you want me to go?”

  She shakes her head weakly. “No, stay. Please”

  I’ve spoken to wedding planners who refused to deal with clients that get emotional, nervous, or angry. Translation - they refuse to be a shoulder to lean on or a therapist. I can’t do that – my clients are human at the end of the day, they have feelings. And this girl is in pain.

  “Shall I assume what the problem is, or do you want to tell me?” I ask gently, patting her back.

  “It’s supposed to be the best day of my life, I thought I was really excited. But...”

  There are always so many possibilities at the end of that word.

  “But?”

  “We’re completely different, we want completely different things.” Dean had spoken about the fights they were having. Is this what Yvonne was referring to?

  “What kind of things? Are they things you both can compromise on?”

  She shakes her head furiously. “No, and do you know why? Because he’s as stubborn as a stinky mule!” she snaps, and I can sense she’s been bottling this up for a while. Perhaps that’s why she was so bubbly and cheerful when I met her, almost too much.

  “He wants kids straight away, I don’t,” she looks down at her nails, picking at them. “I’m not ready to be a mother yet, but he wants to have kids as soon as he’s married.”

  Oh, that’s a whole different ball game.

  “Three kids we will have, apparently. Ideally two boys and one girl. He’s already picked out the names, of course.”

  Is it too soon to voice my opinion?

  “That’s quite a—”

  “And as soon as I have the first kid, he wants me to quit my job. I love my job!”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a pastry chef. But he says once I have the kids they have to be my only priority,” she says slowly, as if she needs to remind herself that this is real.

  “Wait, he wants you to just give up your career?”

  “He wants me to take care of the house and the kids, but I like having my own independence. I don’t want to give that up once I get married. How am I supposed to just do that?”

  I give her a faint smile, and grab her shoulders to make her look at me. Her eyes are still bloodshot; bruised. I can’t hold it in anymore. I have to say something. It might not be what she wants to hear, it’s what she needs to hear.

  “You can’t get married.”

  She frowns at me, a displeasing image. “What do you mean?”

  “How can you get married to someone who isn’t willing to compromise? You can’t do that to yourself, I won’t let you.” Okay I have now just crossed the line from professional to nagging shrink. Tristan is going to kill me.

  She sniffles loudly, her breaths shallowing. She doesn’t say anything, and we sit in silence, the brevity of her situation sits like a thick cloud over us. This is really sad, to see such a lovely and pleasant girl be on the brink of despair. It’s baffling that only a few days ago, this was the most cheerful girl I had met. But the girl I am with now doesn’t have that same sparkle. Her eyes move slower and keep skimming the floor, avoiding eye contact with me.

  “What are you going to do?”

  She looks down to the floor, pressing her lips in a hard line. “I don’t know. Everything, everything was so simple when we were ju
st together.”

  Now I must ask questions that I know I shouldn’t, but I have to. “Do you love him?”

  She looks up at me, her eyes filled with conviction. “Of course I do, he’s the only guy for me.”

  “And do you want to marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you have to put your cards on the table and you two have to work something out, together. If he really loves you, he will be willing to compromise.”

  Her eyes widen at my suggestion. “Really, you think so?”

  Actually I think you can do a lot better than that son of a bitch, but I’m not going to tell you that.

  “I was set to marry a man who didn’t compromise, and I learned my lesson on that one.” I learnt that the hard way.

  “Really?”

  I nod, rubbing her back gently. “Yes, I did. You cannot let a man, or anyone shape your future. If he really loves you, he will let you live your life the way you want to.” I look at her with hard eyes.

  She sits up, “What happened to you?”

  I sigh. “The boy I was meant to marry; he wouldn’t compromise either. He didn’t want to share my future with me. And he always felt he was in competition with me instead of standing beside me.”

  Her mouth opens slightly. “What a jerk.”

  That’s just the half of it.

  “I didn’t make it down to my aisle, because he didn’t care about me enough. But I see the way Terry looks at you. He might be a bit abrupt, but he cares about you.”

  I’m telling the truth, and not because I want the wedding to go through. Yvonne gives me another half-smile. “Yeah, people say that about him, but he’s the only man that makes me feel like…me.”

  There’s hope, I know it.

  “I want you to make it down your aisle, but on your terms. You hear me?”