Page 62 of Worth the Wait
When I walk her to her door, Lianne turns in my arms with the kind of smile I haven’t seen since before the gala—unguarded, hopeful, completely present.
“Thank you,” she says. “For fighting for us. For including me. For making me feel like I belong in your world instead of just visiting it.”
“You do belong. You’ve always belonged. I just needed to be brave enough to make sure everyone else knew it too.”
When I lean down to kiss her, she rises up to meet me, her hands sliding up to frame my face. The kiss starts gentle but quickly deepens, carrying all the longing and relief of weeks apart. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Do you want to come in?” she whispers against my lips, her forehead resting against mine. “I don’t want tonight to end yet.”
The invitation in her voice is clear, and the desire I’ve been holding back all evening flares to life. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She reaches behind her to unlock the door, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve missed you. All of you.”
As she opens the door and pulls me inside, her townhouse envelops us in familiar warmth.
“I love you,” I murmur as she closes the door behind us, my hands finding the zipper of her navy dress.
“Show me,” she breathes, and I’m more than happy to spend the rest of the night doing exactly that.
EPILOGUE
Six months later
My hands are shakingas I check my reflection in the ladies’ room mirror of the Four Seasons Beverly Hills. Not from nerves about my appearance—the navy blazer and cream silk blouse project exactly the kind of professional confidence I’ve cultivated over the past six months—but from the magnitude of what I just accomplished upstairs.
The Ashworth-Taylor wedding. The one everyone in my business has been trying to land.
Well, I landed it.
Nine months ago, I was nervous about meeting with Sterling Industries because I desperately needed their business to establish my reputation. Today, I just secured what they’re calling the wedding of the decade because my reputation speaks for itself.
Bailey Ashworth and her mother Victoria didn’t just hire me—they sought me out. They’d been following my work for months,tracking even my smaller community projects like the LACMA fundraiser and the Martinez wedding. When Victoria mentioned how they’d been impressed by my sustainable design elements and innovative auction displays, I realized that every event I’ve coordinated, every risk I’ve taken creatively, has been building toward this moment.
“We want something equally memorable to the Sterling Industries gala,” Bailey had said, “but obviously completely different in tone. This is our dream wedding, not a corporate celebration.”
And I knew exactly how to give them both—the flawless execution they’d witnessed at Cameron’s event, but with the romantic intimacy and personal meaning that makes weddings unforgettable.
The Sterling Industries gala didn’t just change my business; it changed how I see myself in this world. No longer the outsider hoping to prove myself worthy, but the professional whose expertise shapes the experiences that define Los Angeles society.
I take a deep breath and gather my materials, my portfolio now containing signed contracts for a celebration that will cement Luminous Events among the absolute elite of luxury planners. A ceremony for four hundred guests at Greystone Mansion, reception for six hundred at the Beverly Hills Hotel, weekend festivities that will be photographed for every major society publication. The kind of wedding that other planners will study and try to recreate for years.
As I exit the elevator into the Four Seasons lobby, I reach into my purse for my phone to call Cameron with the good news?—
“There’s my brilliant girlfriend.”
Cameron rises from one of the plush armchairs near the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking devastating in a charcoal suit that I personally picked out a few months ago. But it’s his smile that stops my breath—proud, warm, completely focused on me like I’m the only person that matters in this hotel lobby filled with some pretty influential people.
“How did you?—”
“Amanda may have mentioned the time and location of your mystery meeting,” he says, moving to greet me with a kiss that makes several well-dressed hotel guests smile indulgently. His hands find my waist, pulling me close enough to smell his cologne, the familiar scent that always makes me feel safe. “Though she was very professional about maintaining client confidentiality.”
“Traitor,” I mutter, but I’m laughing as I melt into his arms. “What if it had gone badly? What if they’d rejected my proposal?”
“Then I would have told you that they were idiots who didn’t deserve your talent, and we would have celebrated the fact that you’re too good for clients who can’t recognize excellence when they see it.” His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. “But judging by that smile you’re trying to hide, I’m guessing it went well?”
“I got it.” The words come out breathless, like I still can’t quite believe it myself. “The Ashworth-Taylor wedding. Six hundred guests, multiple venues, unlimited budget. They want me to create what Victoria called ‘the new gold standard for luxury weddings.’”
Cameron spins me around right there in the Four Seasons lobby, his whoop of celebration earning us several amused looks from other guests. A distinguished older man in an expensive suit nods approvingly at us, probably recognizing the universal joy of professional triumph. When Cameron sets me down, his expression is pure delight.
