Page 22 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
The woman eyes him warily. “Are you threatening me with a bad review?”
“No,” he says, all innocence. “I’m offering you a glowing one. From this lovely lady here.” He gestures toward me. “And trust me, she can be very persuasive.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “I can speak for myself, thanks.”
The coordinator—Heather, according to her name tag—narrows her eyes at us. Her bun is crooked, mascara smudged under one eye, and she’s muttering to herself while punching numbers into a calculator like it insulted her.
Jake flashes his signature grin, all dimples and disarming confidence. I let him take the lead with the charm act, but underneath I’m vibrating with a mixture of frustration andanger that such a colossal mistake has taken place and fallen on me to fix.
“Heather, right? You’ve got a very calming presence. Really, it’s like being in a spa.”
She finally looks up, eyes narrowing. “Look, I already told the maid of honor—”
“Heather,” I interrupt smoothly. “We’re hoping to clarify a few things. Like, for instance, how our wedding—booked eight months ago—got bumped for someone who confirmed last week.”
Heather groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, they offered to pay the premium rush fee. You guys didn’t.”
Jake leans on the desk like he owns it, tipping his head. “But we did give you three five-star reviews from the bridal party’s social media accounts. That’s worth something, right? Influencer-adjacent energy.”
I bite back a smile. “Not to mention the groom’s grandmother baked five dozen lemon bars for your staff. Out of the kindness of her arthritic little heart.”
Heather looks caught—like she knows we’re technically right, but she really doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. “Still, they’re a high-profile couple. Blogger. Destination-themed wedding. Custom gelato cart.”
Jake sighs. “Gelato. Of course it’s gelato.”
I jump in before he gets on a full rant. “Heather, listen. We know things got messy. But this venue has been part of the vision since day one. The couple coming in—they can pivot. They just booked. Their Pinterest board isn’t even solid yet.”
Jake nods sagely. “You can’t trust a wedding plan without Pinterest battle scars.”
Heather sighs, rifling through some papers before tossing them back down. “You don’t get it. If I bump them, they’ll threaten legal action. The bride’s dad is apparently a lawyer.”
“So is Danielle’s uncle,” I lie with shocking ease. “And unlike theirs, he actually knows how to weaponize family drama.”
Jake lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Remind me not to piss you off.”
Heather glares between us. “Even if Iwantedto help you, the logistics—”
“We’ll cover reprinting the signage,” I offer. “And we’ll throw in an extra cleaning fee. If that helps.”
“And we’ll talk Danielle out of doing a spontaneous TikTok takedown,” Jake adds.
I need this win.
Heather’s mouth opens like she’s going to argue, but then she falters. I see the cracks forming. Her gaze flits toward the chaotic calendar taped to the wall, then to the blinking messages on her phone, and finally back to us.
“You two arewaytoo good at this,” she mutters.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Jake says with a wink.
Heather exhales and shakes her head. “Fine,” she says finally. “Let me make some calls.”
I glance at Jake, almost not believing we’re getting somewhere.
“Fair,” I say, and offer my hand. “We appreciate it, Heather.”
She stares at my hand like it might bite her, then shakes it begrudgingly. “You’d better hope the other bride doesn’t cry.”
Jake clasps a hand to his chest. “I’ll bring tissues. And a gift card.”
