Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love (Tales Behind the Veils Book 2) (27 page)

Tuesday, April 15th

Tax day. Nothing like waiting to the last minute possible to deal with the devil.

I can organize someone's event like nobody's business, but my own life is a disarrayed shamble of papers and receipts stuck here and there with little scribbled notes in the margins. Every year I say I'm gonna do better, and every year at this time I'm scrambling to find everything and pull together an inventory.

It's a good idea to do an inventory, I think. To clean out and clear out and toss what's no longer needed.

I packed up all Cabe's photos today and put them back in the closet along with anything that reminded me of him. I took the stuffed dog and the frog out from under my bed and carried them down to the dumpster in a white trash bag. I couldn't resist one whiff of them before I tossed them in. It's been a month since I've seen him, but his scent still lingers ever so faintly. On the stuffed animals and on my heart, I suppose. But I have to move on. I even deleted our text history from my phone, along with all his contact information. I unfollowed him on every form of social media, too.

I can't believe he just walked out and never looked back. I mean, I told him to, I guess. But I didn't think he'd actually do it. I believed in my heart that he loved me. That I needed to force his hand. But now, I don't know. Which is the same conclusion he came to, is it not?

I've grieved enough. I've cried enough. I've waited enough. I'm tired of checking my phone multiple times a day just to see if I missed a call. Weary of scanning every store, every crowd, every intersection to see if I catch a glimpse of him. Tired of driving with no music playing because every song reminds me of him in some way. Done with avoiding any movie involving romance and sitting home alone in a funk.

I'm just done. Screw this.

It's time to accept the truth and move on.

I think I must be getting better at dealing with pain.

When my high school and college sweetheart Dwayne left me, it was crippling. Incapacitating. I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. I had to run as far as possible just to be able to live.

When Cabe left for Seattle, it was depressing. I stayed in bed for weeks. Any time I wasn't working, I slept. I lost weight. But I could breathe. I could live without running.

When Cabe disappeared in January, and then again in February, my hurt burned and ached and ate away at my insides. But I could still function. Still work.

This time, it's a numb, dull, ever-present emptiness that always feels like I'm hungry and can't be satisfied. Like someone tore out a piece of me and left behind a jagged hole. I mean, I'm okay. I'll be fine. I go through the motions of each day, and I engage in life without him. I'm even making plans for my future. So I'm doing better than just surviving.

But it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt every minute of every day. I think I've just grown so accustomed to hurting over Cabe that it's become a natural part of me. A function I do subconsciously, like breathing or blinking. The pain is just there, in the background, festering without ever truly healing.

Maybe cleaning out any sign of him will help the healing begin.

While I was at it, I packed away all the photos of Jack, too. Still disappointed he never called. Obviously easier to take than Cabe. What I felt for the two has absolutely no comparison, but there's still a sense of hurt and rejection there. Looking back on my time in Paris with Jack still seems surreal. Like something I watched or read, not something I lived. Completely removed from my actual life, almost as though it didn't happen. I find it hard to conjure up his face without concentrating and for the life of me I can't remember the sound of his voice.

I'm still grateful for him. Grateful for the experiences we shared. The way that weekend shaped me. I still think it changed who I am. I hate how it hurt Cabe, and I wish it could have turned out differently, but with all said and done, I can't say I regret Jack.

I just wish he had called. To validate it all somehow. I mean, if there's one advantage to getting involved with two men at the same time, it should be you're assured at least one of them is going to call? Right?

Maybe I should just burn this diary. Let go of all of it. I flip back through these pages and see so much of my life spent worrying about Dwayne. Cabe. Jack. My job. My bosses. My mother. Maybe I'll burn it and start fresh. A new diary. A clean slate. Fresh white pages not yet marred by the darkness the ink of life brings.

Thursday, April 17th

Yeah, so obviously I didn't burn it. Seemed a waste after I've put so much time and effort into documenting all this stuff. I'm sure there will come a day when I look back through it and laugh and say "Oh, wow. I remember that."

Not sure how far away that day is, though. It ain't today.

I came in this morning to find balloons and streamers filling my office. I fought my way through to my desk and stood there looking at the mess in bewilderment. Were they celebrating my birthday late? Like, way late?

"Congratulations," said Laura as they all piled into my tiny office. Laura, Lillian, Mel, Carmen, Chaz and Charlotte. The closest thing I have to family down here. "Ladies—"

"And Chaz," Lillian added with a grin.

"—and our gentleman," Laura continued, "please allow me to announce our newest senior planner, Tyler Warren."

"It's a temporary assignment," Lillian chimed in, ever the realistic party pooper. "Your permanent status will be contingent upon you acquiring the credentials we agreed to."

I nodded and grinned from ear to ear as happy tears filled my eyes. Just when I thought I'd run out of tears, I found I have a reserve supply. I guess I haven't been tapping into the happy ones so much lately.

Laura asked me to come to her office to sign the paperwork for the promotion contract, and Lillian followed me in.

"Now, as Lillian mentioned, we've made this a temporary six-month assignment. That should allow you enough time to get your accreditation in order. When you receive your official status, we will then sign a permanent agreement. However, if at the end of the six months you still haven't been certified, we would need to go back to your current contract as a ceremony manager."

I nodded my agreement as I looked over the contract wording.

"I don't see any mention of the bachelor's degree. This only mentions certification, and six months isn't long enough for me to get the degree."

Laura and Lillian exchanged glances, and I got the distinct impression they didn't agree on the topic.

Laura spoke first. "In the interest of setting precedent and taking into consideration those already in the position, we've decided to forgo that requirement. We would certainly encourage you and support you should you choose to pursue it. After all—," her eyes cut to Lillian's, "—my own degree is in interior design, Melanie's is in restaurant management, and Lillian doesn't even have a degree."

"All the more reason you should pursue yours, Tyler," Lillian said. "When I was a young woman such as yourself, I made choices which eliminated a degree as an option for me. It is one of the great regrets of my life. And yes, I've measured some success without it, but an education is invaluable. It's something you earn that no one can take away from you or rob you of. You will always have it, long after Laura and I are no longer with you. Wherever you may go from this point, having a degree will be an asset. So please, Tyler, do consider pursuing it even though we are not requiring one."

I left work feeling happy and accomplished, ready to celebrate my new future. I went and bought the comforter set and curtains I've been wanting since I saw it in the store months ago, and then I stopped by the paint store on a whim and picked up the most beautiful, tranquil lavender to match.

New me. New job. New bedroom. New life. I feel like I'm cutting loose the strings that have held me back and I'm ready to soar.

Friday, April 18th

I stayed up until almost three last night painting my room. With each brush stroke, I imagined myself painting over the past. Covering up old hurts and past heartaches with each stroke of my new life.

Tonight I made the bed with the new comforter set with its soft, dove gray background and beautiful watercolor flowers in varying shades of lavender and violet.

I added some new candles I'd purchased to match the bedding and hung the deep violet sheers from the new silver curtain rods and finials. I'd framed a couple of black and white architecture shots I'd taken in Paris on that first night alone, and they provided the final touches to make the room complete.

I stepped back to admire my handiwork and literally clasped my hands together and giggled. I love the way it turned out. The wall color is so peaceful and serene, and the bedding set is elegant yet whimsical. It completely transformed my bedroom.

Now the room is a welcoming sanctuary for me rather than an empty reminder of love lost. It reflects my state of mind, I think. I feel calmer. More confident. More at peace. But determined to move forward. Determined to choose a path of happiness for me.

Since I returned from Paris, I've tried to make choices and decisions to stand up for myself and seek what's best for me.

They didn't all turn out the way I'd hoped, but I feel good about the future. I'm excited about my job, and I have to believe there are more good things in store for me if I just keep moving forward and leaving the past behind.

Saturday, April 19th

Three observations on today.

1. British people are nice. If every wedding I did could be a British couple, I'd be fine with that. I've done many in my time here, and I've yet to encounter a nasty British bride or groom. Even their guests are nice. Just thrilled to fly across the pond on holiday and enjoy a lovely wedding. Definitely a great start to my day this morning, even if they did bring confetti after being told not to!

2. Insanely detailed itineraries do not work. Chaz's bride today (his last wedding with us—sad, not sad) had created an itinerary so freakin' to the minute that it was literally impossible to follow. Itineraries should be a
guideline
. Something to go by to keep things on track and in order, but adjusted as necessary throughout the day. Today's bride had typed absolutely everything by her stopwatch.

              11:54 All guests have been seated. Parents and wedding party lined up outside doors.

              12:00 Music starts. Doors open. Parents begin to walk.

              12:02 Parents are seated and groomsmen return.

              12:03 Groomsmen enter at lyric cues provided.

              12:05 Groom enters on lyric cue provided.

              12:06 Groom scratches his ass.

              12:07 Music changes. Bridesmaids enter at lyric cues provided.

              12:09 Random uncle coughs.

              12:10 Flower girl enters. Scatters petals in two second intervals.

Okay, so she didn't have the groom scratching or the uncle coughing, but she did provide Chaz with the lyrics for each song marked as to which word each groomsman and bridesmaid needed to enter on. And she repeatedly told the six-year-old flower girl to count to two between each petal going down the aisle.

Chaz needed to tell her to chill a long time ago. I'm all about an organized bride, and one who runs on time when I have a wedding after hers? Yes, ma'am. Love it. Give me more. But talk about ridiculously excessive. No one can enjoy their day if they are micromanaging everything down to the second.

She even plotted the time for the kiss. Like, cue song and kiss begins on this word and lasts two minutes, thirty-seven seconds.

Do you have any idea how long two minutes and thirty-seven seconds is when an entire room of people is sitting there watching someone kiss? Interminably long. The kiss lasted longer than some people's wedding night! Guests shifted in their seats, fanned themselves with programs, and cleared their throats, but no matter what social cues they used to scream 'Awkward!', the bride and groom held to the schedule. I bet she choreographed it. Planned out turning their heads left and right at appointed times in the music. Moaning or sighing here and there for effect. I bet this chick literally made the poor dude rehearse the kiss over and over again until he got it right. For his sake, I'm hoping there's no music or itinerary involved for the honeymoon. Talk about pressure to perform!

3. Lastly, weddings are supposed to be about both people involved. I've always said the groom's wishes should be taken into consideration when planning a wedding. After all, it's his event, too. But it has to be a balance both ways. My final wedding today featured an ultimate Star Wars fanatic groom (Dale) and a considerate and giving bride (Keke), who had confided to me in the beginning how sweet it was that Dale wanted to incorporate his passion into their wedding. But as said passion took over her own plans, Keke had lost a bit of her enthusiasm. She readily agreed to him walking down the aisle to Darth Vader's Imperial March. He insisted she walk in to music from a Japanese Star Wars video game. She agreed to have Princess Leia and Han Solo figurines as a cake topper. He added toy Jedis and Stormtroopers standing shoulder to shoulder around every layer of the cake. She agreed to enter the reception carrying light sabers. He planned a light saber battle in lieu of a first dance.

When I saw the surprise Dale had planned for the ceremony, I suggested he discuss it with Keke first. Dale was adamant it should be a surprise, though, and one thing's for sure. His bride was definitely surprised.

When the pastor asked for the rings and neither the best man nor maid of honor had them, Keke began to panic and asked the maid of honor to loan hers. But when she heard the music start and looked up to see a seven-foot-tall, furry Chewbacca headed down the aisle carrying her rings on a pillow, she lost it. That girl said words I've only heard in Tarantino movies. The pastor blushed fifty shades of red, Chewbacca stepped back like his hair had been singed, and the groom went from euphoric glee to shocked disbelief.

It took about twenty minutes to calm her down and get her back inside the chapel, but I think Dale learned a valuable lesson today about his wife. The force may be powerful, but hell hath no fury like a bride on her wedding day. Needless to say, Chewbacca waited outside while rings were exchanged.