Page 57 of Love, Take Two

Twenty minutes later, we're ending the call with a signed contract, a deposit, and timeline for their March wedding in Cabo. As soon as the screen goes black, Vada and I just stare at each other for a moment.

"Did that just happen?" she asks.

"We just booked our first client," I confirm, feeling a rush of excitement and relief. "Holy shit, Vada. We did it."

"We did," she says, but instead of looking excited, she looks slightly panicked. "Oh God, now we actually have to do it."

"Hey," I say, reaching across the table to take her hands. "What's wrong?"

"What if we can't deliver what we promised? What if we get down there and realize we have no idea how to coordinate a destination wedding? What if—"

"Vada," I interrupt gently. "You've been planning events for years. I've been creating content in challenging locations all over the world. We're going to be fine."

"But this is different," she says. "This is our business. Our reputation. If we mess this up..."

"We won't mess it up," I say with more confidence than I feel, because honestly, the responsibility is a little overwhelming."And even if something goes wrong, we'll figure it out together. That's what partners do."

The word "partners" seems to settle something in her, and I watch her shoulders relax slightly.

"Partners," she repeats. "I like the sound of that."

"Good," I say, bringing her hands to my lips to kiss her knuckles. "Because I'm thinking this is just the beginning."

We spend the rest of the morning creating a shared project management system and dividing up initial research tasks. It's weirdly satisfying to see our different skills complement each other—Vada's organizational systems merged with my visual planning, her vendor contacts combined with my location scouting experience.

"This actually works," Vada says, looking at the timeline we've created together. "We're not duplicating effort or stepping on each other's roles."

"Almost like we're good at this," I agree, saving our shared document.

"Don't get cocky," she says with a smile. "We haven't actually pulled off a wedding yet."

"Details," I say, which makes her laugh.

By afternoon, we're deep in research mode—vendor lists for Cabo, accommodation options for guests, potential ceremony locations that will photograph well. Vada's at her most focused, and watching her work is like seeing an artist in their element.

"What about this place?" I ask, showing her photos of a beachfront resort with incredible natural lighting.

"Good bones," she says, studying the images with professional assessment. "Though we'd need to check their vendor policies and see whether they allow outside photographers for the ceremony space."

"I can reach out to my contact there," I offer. "Shot content there two years ago, and the events manager was great to work with."

"Perfect," Vada says, making notes in our shared system. "That's exactly what I mean about this partnership working. I never would have had that connection."

The afternoon flies by as we dive deeper into planning. It's collaborative in the best way—we're building on each other's ideas, solving problems together, creating something neither of us could do alone.

"We should probably take a break," Vada says eventually, stretching in her chair. "My brain's starting to blur vendor names together."

"Agreed," I say, closing my laptop. "Besides, we've got that dinner with Maya tonight."

"Right," Vada says, checking the time. "She wants to celebrate our new apartment and interrogate you about your intentions."

"My intentions?"

"Maya takes her best friend duties very seriously," Vada explains with obvious affection. "She's going to want to make sure you're not going to break my heart and disappear back to your nomad lifestyle."

"And what should I tell her?"

"The truth," Vada says simply. "That you're here to stay."

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