Bangkok (That Wedding Girl Book 3) Read online

  She ponders my question, before nodding slightly. “I guess...but what if he breaks up with me?”

  “Do you want to quit your job and become a mother at 23?” I press.

  She grimaces, “Eww no! But I want to make him happy...”

  “He will only be happy, if you are happy. You can only bring children into this world when you are ready, no?”

  I stand up, holding out my hand to her. “Now come on, I better get you cleaned up. I don’t want to get in trouble for taking you hostage!”

  She grabs my hand and as she rises up, she surprises me by hugging me from the side.

  “Thanks, for listening.” She breaks from the hug to look at me, her eyes softer now. “This may seem uncalled for, but I think you and my brother would really hit it off.”

  Dean? I raise an eyebrow. “He’s nice.”

  “How nice would it be if you two started dating? We could be sisters!”

  Well at least I have her approval, not that I had even considered it. We walk closely together out of the room, our arms brushing each other.

  Yvonne says she will tell me what happens. She wants the rehearsal to go ahead as usual, and she will talk to Terry that night. I really hope it works out, for her sake. And for mine too, what the hell is Tristan going to think if my first wedding through him got cancelled? Hardly going to leave a good first impression is it?

  I would hate to see a wedding get cancelled the day before. The familiarity is too…uncomfortable.

  Is this going to be the one wedding I can’t save?

  CHAPTER TEN

  The rehearsal went well, almost too well. Father Michael was amazingly efficient, that Gabe and I just had to watch the audience from time to time and field an occasional question from a member of the family. Terry looked glum and stiff as usual. Dean looked happy and relaxed as always, and I caught him looking at me a few times.

  However, all I could focus on was Yvonne. A strained smile sat permanently on her face as she walked down the aisle with her father, Bill, and she showed her big teeth all the way through Terry’s vows. I could see the strain on her face, the sadness in her pretty and wide eyes.

  Watching the blessing and giving of rings was painful, and even Gabe winced a few times at how distant Yvonne looked during the whole thing. As Father blessed the rings and declared “The circle of the ring declares the unity and the oneness of your two lives, which shall contain your devotion beyond every journey that you may always return again to your togetherness.” Yvonne could only smile politely at Terry.

  Aside from the miserable bride, the rest of the rehearsal went without a hitch. Prayers of the faithful, the preparation of offerings, the Eucharistic prayer, sign of peace, and the recessional. It all went by very smoothly, but I’m nervous about how it’s all going to go down tonight.

  Since Gabe and I aren’t needed at the reception, I will only find out the fate of the wedding tonight. Or maybe tomorrow morning. It’s stressful, just thinking about it…

  ♦

  I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, my laptop resting on my knees. It’s 8.05pm and the rehearsal reception should have been finished half an hour ago. Every now and then I look eagerly at my phone, hoping for an update from Yvonne.

  Because I’m getting increasingly worried about the wedding being cancelled, I start making processions. Drafting a note and script that Yvonne and Terry can use to tell the guests. Going through the gifts they have received, and what they have to return. The costs they will have to incur for cancelling.

  Suddenly, my mobile rings. I pick it up before looking at the name on the screen. It’s definitely Yvonne.

  “Hey, is it still going ahead?” I ask eagerly.

  “Is what still going ahead?” that husky voice replies. My heart shoots up at the sound of Tristan’s voice on the other line. It’s loud where he is, I can hear raunchy R&B music in the background.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Are you having a good time?” His voice softens, and suddenly I miss him. I miss his voice.

  No, because you’re not here.

  “Yeah I am, everything is going swimmingly,” I lie, rather well. “How’s Pattaya going?”

  Suddenly, I hear some rowdy laughter in the background, and several pairs of heels clacking on the floor. I can practically smell the seedy booze and perfume over the phone.

  “Yeah, I think Matt and his friends won’t forget his bachelor party for a while.”

  “When are the strippers coming?” I tease.

  He laughs softly. “What strippers? This is a tame and conservative women free, booze free event.”

  As if on cue, a throng of girls giggle coquettishly.

  “As you were saying?” I tease.

  “Are you going okay with the event, do you need any—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

  Yes, I do – the fate of the wedding is in my hands as I put the idea to cancel it in the bride’s mind. I did a whacky inception job on her. “So, are you coming back to Bangkok?”

  “I have to go back to—”

  A girl must have walked up because I can hear her practically breathing down the phone. “Hey Mister Hot Muscle Man, Matt needs you in the kitchen. He wants to do shots with everyone!” Her voice is high-pitched, she sounds ditzy and stupid. I’m not being biased, not at all…

  “Or we could just hang out alone here, just the two of us…” She says it so suggestively that if she didn’t mean it in a sexual way, then I’m secretly a man. Crack goes my heart. Okay, I hate her officially. And I’ve never hated someone through just their voice alone. More specifically, I hate him.

  “Hey I have to go, see you.”

  I hang up without giving him a chance to reply, throwing the phone down on the bed in frustration. Closing the laptop angrily, I push it off me and plop my head on the bed and exhale loudly. Are we better off as friends? Because it certainly is more complicated thinking of him as more than a friend, the feelings of jealousy are hard to handle.

  Why should I care? He can do what he wants, I told him this, repeatedly. So why am I seeing red as I look up at the yellowing plaster ceiling? Why is my stomach in knots at the thought of him being with another woman? He’s better off as a friend, he’s not the kind of guy you date. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to repeat these words to myself, I’ve lost count. Maybe another hundred times might help.

  Suddenly my mobile rings again and I sit up immediately, maybe Tristan decided to call back? I answer it without looking at the number. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” that squeaky, mouse voice pipes down the phone. And she doesn’t sound that bubbly.

  “Hey Yvonne!” I say, secretly disappointed it’s not Tristan. Now she has to call me. “So, what’s happening tomorrow? Do you have good news for me?”

  She fails to reply, breathing quietly. It’s dead quiet where she is. She must be alone, which is a terrible place to be on the eve of your wedding.

  “Come on talk to me.”

  “So, I spoke to him. About the job thing. He was understanding about it, and said I don’t have to quit,” she starts off.

  “That’s good, he’s being supportive. And what about the kids thing?”

  I can practically feel her face drop. “You did speak to him, didn’t you?”

  “I tried to. But...” She trails off.

  “But what?” I fail to sound calm.

  “I couldn’t do it. He looked so happy about tomorrow, that I couldn’t bear the thought of having an argument. He was so nice about the job thing. I didn’t want to pile on the bad news...”

  “Bad news? This is your happiness and future here.”

  “I hate making him angry.”

  “Yvonne!”

  “Sorry…”she whimpers. I’ve got to stop yelling people’s names dramatically. I sigh quietly. “You have to speak to him or else I will. I can’t let you get married like this.”

  “Really, you won’t let me?”

 
; I bite my lip, wanting to think over my words clearly. This is completely going against my duties, and Tristan may very yell at me or fire me, and not necessarily in that order.

  “No, I won’t. So are you going to talk to him, or should I?”

  She pauses, clearly in deep thought.

  “Okay fine, fine! But promise me he will accept, okay?”

  “I can’t. But I can promise you will always regret it if you don’t talk to him,” I say, feeling brave about my opinion.

  “Go to him. And before you say anything, I know it’s meant to be bad luck to see your groom before the wedding but I think this is an exception.”

  She takes a deep breath and I can hear her stand up and walk a bit. “His room is next to mine. I’m sure I can pop in there and stop in for a quick hello.”

  I smile. “That’s my girl. Do you want me to come meet you afterwards?”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “I will call you in the morning. I have a feeling this could take all night...”

  “Okay, sure thing. Yvonne, I hope it all works out. I want you to get your prince, the one you deserve.”

  “Thanks, you’re amazing. Wish me luck!” She hangs up, and I put the phone down, feeling a lot less frustrated this time around.

  I really hope I have a wedding to plan tomorrow, I do.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Miracles do happen, especially in Bangkok. The wedding went full steam ahead! Yvonne texted me at 5am in the morning, and it was the best wakeup call I have had in a long time.

  The text was so simple but it spoke volumes to me:

  *Yep, it’s still going ahead. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.*

  Even though I didn’t need to get to the church until 10am, I was too excited to go back to bed. The wedding went ahead! Tristan won’t fire me!

  Setting up the church and the rest of the preparations was relatively smooth and hassle free – tying the white ribbons to the wooden benches, putting the church programs at the entrance, prepping the altar. The makeup and hair stylists met Yvonne at the hotel as expected, and after that I felt a lot more relaxed about this wedding, much more than many of the others I had planned in the past.

  Even though Yvonne didn’t tell me whether she and Terry had resolved their problems, something told me that she took my advice. And I was right because just on schedule, she walked down that aisle with her father, Bill, in a beautiful long-sleeve sheath satin gown, the train flowing just past her sparkly silver shoes.

  I could tell because there was something different about Terry when he stepped out at the altar twenty minutes before he was expected. He no longer had that glum face he wore like a mask, instead he looked relaxed and excited to see his bride. But the look on her face said it all. She had the most radiant smile on her face, completely opposite to the forced, rigid one she wore to the rehearsal yesterday. Not even that lace veil could cover up the look of sheer joy. It was apparent to everyone that she couldn’t wait to take him as hers.

  And the look on Terry’s face said it all when he saw her. He’s in love with her, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. It doesn’t matter that everything went according to schedule because none of that matters when you see a couple that just want to be with each other. And that is why I love my job so much – I help make that day as fun and joyous for them.

  I hate surprises but I was proven wrong today. Father Michael read a different scripture and the look of surprise on me and Gabe’s face could only be surpassed by Yvonne’s.

  He read a passage from the Book of Sirach 26:1-4, 13-16:

  Blessed the husband of a good wife,

  twice-lengthened are his days;

  A worthy wife brings joy to her husband,

  peaceful and full is his life.

  A good wife is a generous gift

  bestowed upon him who fears the Lord;

  Be he rich or poor, his heart is content,

  and a smile is ever on his face.

  A gracious wife delights her husband,

  her thoughtfulness puts flesh on his bones;

  Like the sun rising in the Lord’s heavens,

  the beauty of a virtuous wife is the radiance of her home.

  Terry changed the scripture reading to one that emphasises the importance of Yvonne as his future wife. That to me, was the highlight of the whole day and a very wonderful surprise. He finally got the importance of ‘happy wife, happy life’ and that it wasn’t by accident. After that, I knew everything would be alright.

  Apart from the fact that Yvonne’s veil nearly caught up in flames with the candle as she walked down the altar the processional went by perfectly, the bridesmaids all looked immaculate in their blushing pink long sleeve gowns, and the groomsmen looked suave in their grey suits. I’m just really glad the bride made it to the alter. Now I can relax, and enjoy the reception as a guest. Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t been asked to plan the reception.

  ♦

  It is definitely a good thing I wasn’t asked to plan the reception! I am having an absolute blast, and I might even grow fond of Terry before the night’s over. It seems liquor can, and will, make anybody more interesting. The night has just finished and the guests are making their way home, and I’m finding myself annoyed because I have to leave this gorgeous and opulent room for the rancid hell hole I’m staying in. The wedding reception has been really fun, and the experience greatly enhanced by the open bar. Myron, the uncle they shouldn’t have invited, put on his best robot dance moves in the middle of the floor. Yvonne and Terry were dancing with the foreheads pressed to each other the whole night, dancing slowly together, just enjoying each other’s company. And one other thing – Yvonne’s attempts to try and set Dean and I up were incredibly blatant.

  Firstly, she made me sit next to him at the head table instead of at a normal one, where she kept telling me about him – as if he weren’t sitting right there - like she was some proud auntie. Dean’s so smart! Dean is a really good cook! Dean this, Dean that…she spoke so much I barely got to talk to him myself! On top of that, she made me and him take some photos together, and some of us, her, and Terry. I had to avoid rolling my eyes as she made me and him pose a bit closer together.

  I have come to the conclusion I do not like to be set up. I make sure to tell Gabe at the end of the night. I have never been before, and I would not ever like to be again. Clearly, Dean feels the same way. When we finally get a chance to talk to each other, all we can do was laugh at how embarrassingly cute Yvonne is. To be honest, her zealous enthusiasm put us both off from being interested in each other. Dean is a really nice guy, but not the guy for me. I should like him; he ticks all my boxes. Cute smile, blond, a total gentleman, but I’m not attracted to him in the slightest. I don’t know if I’ve suddenly developed a taste for cocky dark-haired boys in general, or if it’s because of the one thing I don’t want to admit: he’s not Tristan.

  Tristan, Tristan, Tristan. It’s just too…complicated. It would never work, it’s such a bad idea on so many levels. I’m just going to have to keep my dirty thoughts about him to myself. It’s just a physical rebound thing, I’m sure of it.

  Until then, a couple of iced triple chocolates couldn’t hurt.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Resting my head on the deck chair, I put my large sunhat over my face as I relish the tropical sun tanning my body in my black triangle bikini. In the distance there’s traffic, but far away enough not to bother me. My cell phone is back at the resort, just two hundred feet away. The events of the last week almost sent me into a near panic attack, but now that feels like a million years ago.

  I could sit here all day. Note to self, book a holiday to come back here as soon as possible.

  “This was such a good idea,” I turn my head to the right to speak to Gabe, in the deck chair next to mine.

  “I told you,” he replies, his eyes shielded by trendy sunglasses. The large rainbow coloured beach umbrella is tent like, giving us the perfect
coverage to bask in this tropical heat without roasting ourselves silly.

  After the wedding finished, Gabe insisted staying a few days to explore, and this time he wanted me to join him. I couldn’t resist the offer to enjoy some down time in Thailand. We flew down to Phuket and booked a beachfront resort near Kamala Beach, sixteen minutes’ drive from Patong Beach. Bangla Road is the ultimate gong show where beach loving travellers walk off their hangovers and go-go girls play ping pong at night. But during the day, Gabe and I loved nothing more than peace and quiet, lying on our deck chairs. Soaking up the tropical heat has done wonders for our relaxation. We are only booked to stay here for three days, but I wish it was more now.

  “So, what shall we do for the rest of the day?” I ask, my eyes closed.

  “Nothing, nothing, and more nothing,” He calls back lazily. “We could always go back to the hotel and lie on the deck chairs there.”

  I look down at my bottle of water, which is almost empty. “That’s not a bad idea, let’s go back and get some more iced teas.”

  I put my hat over my head and get up, while Gabe remains stationary. “I’ll see you in a little bit then, you look very comfortable there, mister.”

  He bobs his head up, waving his hand at me. Okay he’s not coming with me. I think Gabe could lie there all day – he’s tanned a lot since arriving in Bangkok, he’s practically changed nationalities. Throwing my beach cover on and grabbing my bottle of water, I slide my feet into my flip flops and lazily stroll across the sand back to the hotel.

  I’ve not been the biggest beach lover, but I am officially converted. The water is warm, bath like even. The sand a pristine silk against the skin. The salty smell is exceptionally crisp and fresh. The waves roll in blue tips, spreading themselves like fine lace over the beach after they crash in their soft swells.

  Not even five minutes pass before I get back to the resort. Hotel guests amble around the lobby and pool area in colourful Hawaiian shirts and dresses, carrying their drinks in plastic cups. Palm trees surround the pool, only to have Kamala Beach on the other side.