Page 6 of The Lovers
I used contacts I’d cultivated on my own over the last few years working at Love, Always Weddings and Events to build out the four-night, three-day wedding experience the bride wanted. I’ve coordinated not only with the resort, Celestial Sands, a luxe boutique experience in a rustic setting at the edge of Joshua Tree National Park, but also with multiple other venues, glamping sites, and excursion providers, to ensure that the whole wedding party and fifty-plus guests are immersed, leave the place rejuvenated, and give me a fucking five-star review to take into my next gig.
Launching my own wedding and event agency.
A dream I’ve been building toward for years.
A secret dream, as of now, but not for much longer. This wedding is the last one I’m planning as a Love, Always employee. As soon as I return from the desert, I’m handing in my resignation. The first move in my carefully calculated plan. Essential, since I won’t be able to work any weddings for six months per the noncompete in my contract.
Zoe pulls up the bullet point list we created for the final walk- through meeting with the bride and groom before we leave for Joshua Tree on Friday. It’s a comprehensive look at all the major moments we have planned for her fairy tale come to life.
I know I seem like a cynic, and I am in almost every areabesidesthis one.
To me, a wedding is more than a party. More than a show of commitment or an excuse to get drunk and dance the night away. Weddings take two individual human beings and set them on a new, integrated path. Weddings turn two people into a family unit.
I lean forward, using my mouse to click through the presentation.
Friday night is the Goddess Awakening, at Desert Skies Glamp-Out. The bride was in charge of booking her own energy healers and psychics for the evening since she “had a direct line through her socials.”
The bachelor events are as polar opposite as possible and were one hundred percent the handiwork of me. Somehow I didn’t think that frat-boy-turned-financier Sean would be into anything too woo-woo. (His words.)
Saturday is chock-full with a picnic brunch, spa treatments, and, of course, the rehearsal dinner.
Sunday evening is the wedding, at sunset, and the reception under the stars.
I scroll through the aesthetic mock-ups of the decorations, and the itinerary that will be handed out to all the main players and followed to the letter no matter what catastrophes attempt to arise.
“Any word on the bride’s bachelorette party entertainment?” I ask Zoe, leaning back in my chair. We’re not responsible for the success of that event, but I still want it to be a dream come true. One misstep in a wedding weekend can lead to a stumbling, tripping, snowballing mess that lands us in the hot seat no matter who made the first mistake.
“I’ll make sure to ask her at the meeting,” Zoe replies, jotting it down in her presentation notes. She looks up; her eyes flick behind me to the clock hanging on my wall, right between the two massive picture windows looking out on Rodeo Drive. Love, Always is situated in a swank locale, caters to a swank LA-based clientele, and was founded by a woman whomight(talking about itis forbidden) have been featured onReal Housewives of Beverly Hillsas a main character. For a girl who grew up in Pasadena, and not in one of the beautifully restored historic homes the city is known for, working this location has always felt a little like playing a role in a life that isn’t quite mine.
I look the part. Polished, well-educated, sharp, clean-cut, designer style—now. But I’m still an awkward emo punk kid who was once all about a ’90s flannel, ripped jeans, Doc Martens look in my heart, even if my heart doesn’t ever get to run the wardrobe selection.
That flew out the window a couple years ago and hasn’t ever come back.
“I’ll meet you in the conference room in three,” Zoe says, standing.
“Remember, Millie works with that posh sparkling tea brand, so set out a few of those in case she wants to promote.”
“Roger that,” Zoe says, handing over the iPad. I like to run the meetings, even if normally that would be the assistant’s job. She gave up trying to relinquish that task from my steel grip after a few failed attempts and at least one bathroom crying session. I felt like shit, tried to give her the day off, which backfired. Zoe is spurred by ambition, a trait I respect without any irony. She didn’t want the day off, she wanted me to let her prove herself.
I look down at the title page featuring the bride and groom. Two white, wealthy hotties on the surface, but in the time I’ve spent with them I’ve come to see that they both have hidden depth worthy of respect. I can’t always get there with the Love, Always clientele, no matter how much I want to believe that all the weddings I’ve worked have created families that will sustain the couple’s lifetime.
My eyes trail from their perfect faces to the single personal item in my office. A minimalist silver frame featuring a family photo from last Christmas. Dad, tall, dark, and lanky; me, a shorter, curvier version of him, right down to my thick brown hair and bright ocean eyes; and my stepmom, Ana, snuggled near me, wearing her signature bright smile. Before they got married it was just Dad and me, two lonely grumps without anyone to force out joy. But when he and Ana said “I do,” she made sure I knew her commitment was to both of us.
They say those who can’t do, teach. Changeteachtoplanand you have me. I’ve never come close to the altar. None of the women or men I’ve dated in my twenties have even come within orbit of the mark, or made me feel that feeling. Thatsafe to do anything, be anythingfeeling I get when I think about family. I had one ex—the last ex—who I almost thought would. But she wasn’t ready to come out to her snooty family. I loved her enough to go back in the closet for a while, but eventually that closed door made me feel trapped.
And that feeling, it wore me down.
Wore away the love I felt because I was treated like some sort of dirty little secret, and not the fun kind. Wore away the hope I had that we could one day stand together and make that commitment I desperately wanted. And then when that love had eroded completely, I realized she’d done more than shove me into the closet again. All the heat fizzled into hate; her nitpicking went deep, slicing away anything that made meme; and escape became my only option. I’d been hurt before by someone who couldn’t love me out loud, but now I had been molded and shaped by someone like that as well. I didn’t recognize myself.
The only thing to do was leave.
The alarm on my phone chimes, and then the front desk receptionist, Paige, buzzes through the office line to let me know my clients have arrived.
“I’ll be right there,” I call back, blinking away the cloud of emotion.
Those who can’t do, teach.
I may notdo, but I canplan.
