Best Man For The Wedding Planner

Dan walked into the rehearsal with his nerves already on edge. This morning’s breakfast had taken his thoughts and turned them into a huge jumble of resentment and nostalgia. He’d spent a long time hating Adele for breaking his heart, but then he’d moved past it—at least mostly. Now and again he was reminded that he had an issue with trusting anyone, but as far as feelings for Adele...they’d faded.

Except they hadn’t, really. Being here, with her, took all the feelings he’d thought he’d locked away for good and sent them bubbling to the surface. He’d loved her more than she could ever know. A man didn’t get over that easily. Or, apparently, at all.

What were you supposed to do when The One wasn’t really The One at all?

The rest of the wedding party milled about the hall, their voices echoing through the huge space. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around. Chairs were set up on either side of the aisle... Were they actually painted silver? He looked closer. They were. And each chair had a swath of fabric woven through the top rungs in rich navy. The effect was stunning.

The knot of people at the back of the aisle moved and revealed Adele, deftly weaving more fabric through the slats. She was still in the dark trousers and sweater that she’d worn this morning, but some of her hair had come loose from her knot. Had she been working all day? It was nearly seven and she had several chairs to finish.

She stood, put her hands on her lower back and stretched. The movement emphasized the curve of her breasts and the long column of her neck before she relaxed again and reached inside a box for another strip of material.

Everyone else simply milled about, oblivious to how Adele was still working while they chatted and laughed.

Holly saw him standing in the doorway and beckoned him over. “Come on in, Dan! Meet our officiant, Ms. Fraser. She’ll be performing the ceremony tomorrow.”

He was aware of Adele looking up, then back down again as he strode toward the assembled group. “Ms. Fraser,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m Dan Brimicombe, the best man.”

“Pleased to meet you. And now that we’re all here, we can get started.” She laughed a little, a warm and friendly sound. “I know you all want to get this part over with so you can have dinner. I’ll try to keep it painless.”

Over the next half hour, Ms. Fraser deftly positioned everyone where they were supposed to be and ran through the order of the service. At one point she asked Adele a question about the placement of the musicians—a string quartet would be playing the processional and recessional—and then carried on. Dan looked over his shoulder and noticed she still had at least a dozen chairs or more to finish. He frowned. Wasn’t this the job of the hotel staff? Surely she wasn’t doing this all herself.

He stood at the front and waited as they ran through the processional yet again, the bridesmaids and bride coming up the aisle and moving into position. It gave him an unfettered view of Adele as she worked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, reaching into the box for more material as she made her way down the row. Someone from the hotel came in with a dolly and what appeared to be a dozen potted trees. As he half listened to the instructions about witnessing the marriage license, he watched Adele instruct the hotel employee and then help unload the ungainly pots and put them into position. As the employee wheeled the dolly back out again, he watched as Adele heaved a sigh, gave a stretch and then went back to work.

After thirty minutes, Ms. Fraser let everyone go except the bride and groom; she had a few final things to discuss with them before everyone departed for the onsite restaurant and the rehearsal dinner. He took the opportunity to go over to Adele. She had just finished tying a strip of satin to a chair and turned to fetch another piece when he held it up for her.

“Oh,” she said, clearly startled. “Thank you, Dan.”

“Have you done all these chairs yourself?”

She shrugged, anchored one end of the fabric and began weaving. “I had someone for the first thirty or so, but it was the end of her workday, and she wasn’t feeling well. I sent her home.”

“So you’re doing it yourself.”

“It’s no big deal. I’d rather have her away from me if she has the flu or something. It’s been going around.”

He frowned. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

She laughed. “I’ll eat when I get home later. The day before a wedding is always crazy. I’m used to this.”

She finished off the chair, leaving a trail of navy satin that looked to be the exact same length as the other chairs. “How do you even do that?” he asked, impressed.

She took another piece of satin from his fingers. “If you always start in the same place, you end in the same place, too.”

“I suppose you’re right. Is this all you have to do tonight?”

She paused in her weaving and looked up at him. “No. All the trees that just came in? They all need white twinkly lights put on them.”

“But there’s...twelve.”

“I know. I counted.” She laughed then, a tired sound, but a happy one, too. “Seriously, Dan. This is not my first wedding. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave for the dinner. I’ve got this.”

She threaded the fabric and tied it off again, moving down a chair.

“I just think it’s a lot of work for one person. And it’s Holly and Pete’s wedding. They should—”

She stood up and faced him. “They should what?” she interrupted. “This is my job. This is what they pay me to do, and they’re paying me quite well, so why don’t you leave me to it instead of slowing me down?”

He stared at her, his lip curling as her irritated voice carried through the hall. A few people stopped and looked in their direction. Perfect. It was bad enough that Pete and Holly knew that Adele was his ex. Getting in an argument would only prompt more questions. If she wanted to do this all by herself, fine. He’d only been trying to help.

“I wouldn’t want to stand in your way,” he replied, a touch of acid in his words. “I guess I should have realized you like to be on your own, rather than a team player.”

It was a cheap remark but one that he’d perhaps been holding inside for a long, long time. When they’d been together, they’d insisted that they were a team. A partnership. The abrupt change in their relationship had left him floundering. How did someone say she was your partner and then just move on without a backward glance?

This morning had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have stopped for breakfast with her. He should have listened to his gut from the day before and stayed far, far away. Leave the past in the past.

He walked away before she had a chance to turn her back on him once again.

CHAPTER THREE (#u6bd7fe6d-2c8a-5a46-b2a5-f21ea4beb599)

SHE COULDN’T GET WARM.

Adele hadn’t been lying when she’d said the flu was going around, but she really hadn’t considered the possibility of actually getting it. And not on the day of the biggest wedding of her career. She stepped under the hot spray of the shower, which felt glorious. She’d have to work through it, that was all. She’d stop at the pharmacy for meds, drink lots of fluids and power through. And wash her hands—a lot. She didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

She dressed in a variation of her standard uniform, which was generally a little black dress that lent an air of professionalism while also allowing her to blend in with the guests. Today, however, the idea of black stockings and high heels and semi-bare arms was just...no. Instead she pulled out a soft pair of black trousers, her most comfortable heels and a black cashmere sweater. She’d be a little bit underdressed, but she’d be able to do her job and would blend into the background, as it should be. Tea, some acetaminophen, and she’d be right as rain.

She stopped at the drugstore and then for a smoothie, going for a massive vitamin injection. By the time she arrived at the hotel, things were underway. The flower delivery van was parked and workers hustled to get the delicate blooms out of the cold and inside. Adele parked and rushed over to assess their progress, and had a jolt of dismay when she realized the centerpieces for the reception weren’t in the van. A quick phone call assured her they were coming in about an hour, in a separate van. Everything for the reception was being stored near the hall, so that the staff could do a quick turnaround with the room during the cocktail hour in a nearby lounge.

She stifled a sneeze and then reached into her bag for tissues. “Please, please kick in,” she murmured, hoping the medicine she’d taken would help her symptoms and soon. She could be sick tomorrow. Not today. Twelve to fourteen hours was really all she needed.

Once the flowers were inside, she made a beeline for the spa to make sure everything was on schedule for the wedding party. That, at least, was going flawlessly. The bride and her bridesmaids were sitting in chairs, preferred drinks by their sides, having their hair straightened, curled, pinned...whatever their style required. The men, too, had appointments within the hour for hair trims and shaves. Everyone got to be a little pampered on the wedding day. The energy in the spa was warm and celebratory, and she smiled to herself as she left. The few hours leading up to the ceremony were some of the busiest, but also the most exciting.

Tomorrow would be time enough for a little self-pampering. She’d drink tea and stay beneath her very thick, very warm duvet for as long as she wanted. She always took the day after a wedding off as a treat to recoup from the long hours.

The centerpieces arrived and were properly stored. Adele lit the twinkle lights on the twelve trees. A small podium was installed for the justice of the peace, and the chairs were set up for the string quartet.

Her phone rang.

She hung up five minutes later, her heart pounding. Four of tonight’s servers had called in sick with the same flu. Four. With a guest list of two hundred and fifty, that made a huge difference. They were going to try calling in people who were off today, but with the virus going around, Adele wasn’t hopeful. At least the photographer, Harper McBride, showed up early. Harper owned a studio in town and had quickly become Adele’s go-to for weddings, as well as Adele’s best friend.

Harper took one look at her and frowned, her blue eyes worried. “You’re sick. You caught the plague.”

Adele couldn’t help but laugh, a welcome sensation that had been absent the last few days. “I did, yes,” she admitted. “I was hoping it wasn’t noticeable. I’m hopped up on daytime flu meds and a huge smoothie. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you too well. You look great, except the glassy look in your eyes. Well, darlin’, the timing sucks.” Harper lugged one of her bags into the room and hid it in a corner at the back, where she’d set up unobtrusively. “The place looks amazing, though. I think it’s your best yet.”

“Thanks.” The praise went right to Adele’s heart. Harper had a brilliant eye and was also unfailingly honest. “Not too much white?”

Harper shook her head, which provoked one of her auburn curls to escape. “With that rich blue satin on the chairs and the silver accents? Not at all. It’s gorgeous.” She leaned a little closer. “I’m so glad you convinced her not to do the red.”