Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
And after that, my love of all things wedding turned sour. Like milk left out on a ninety-degree day, it curdled. Not to mention, the very next day, my original groom had died—Buddy. He’d been twenty-one, an age most dogs don’t even get close to, so it wasn’t a surprise, but seriously? The day after I’d been left at the altar?
Elijah came out from the back room, looking as dapper as usual. While I preferred to wear a simple black dress and blend in when we were working, that wasn’t his style—not by a mile. This week, he wore a navy plaid suit, which had tapered pants with a break two inches above the ankle, and burgundy velvet shoes. Anything simpler wouldn’t coordinate with his platinum-blond hair and Korean heritage. Few men could pull off the style, but Elijah’s confidence could make anything work. I swallowed back bitterness and forced a smile. “You’re going to outshine the groom in that getup.”
He smiled. “Don’t I always?”
* * *
Two hours later, we walked into the bridal suite at Chateau L’Amour. Elijah stopped abruptly. “Last chance,” he said. “Please tell me someone is screwing with us and they’re really filming a period-piece movie or something here.”
I grimaced as I spotted one of the bridesmaids. The woman looked like she’d just stepped out of Gone with the Wind with a giant hoopskirt. It was even worse in person than in the photos we’d received in advance for designer credits. “Maybe she’s one of those champagne greeters. You know, where they wear a big, full skirt that holds a hundred glasses of champagne.”
“Do you see any champagne?”
“No, but … let’s be optimistic.” Just as I finished that sentence, two more women walked in, wearing identical dresses.
Elijah elbowed me. “Guess they have three champagne greeters.”
I sighed. Great. It was hard enough for me to write glowing articles about tasteful weddings these days. “We’ll have to focus on the bride.”
He chuckled. “Who do you think picked out those monstrosities? I’ll bet you these ladies look like they stepped out of Vogue compared to her.”
He had a point. “Doesn’t matter how bad it is; we have to remember, this assignment came from Hayes himself. So it needs to look stunning in the magazine. And Ted Hayes Jr. is apparently in the wedding party, so make sure you get a good picture of the big boss’s son.”
Elijah and I had originally been assigned another wedding this evening, but that bride had to have emergency surgery, so the event had been postponed. Instead, the CEO of the conglomerate that owned our magazine had stepped in with a replacement. Apparently the groom was a friend of his family or something. So my write-up and Elijah’s photos needed to be glowing.
Elijah nodded. “Damn. Yeah, okay.”
A woman wearing a black vest and a frazzled smile walked over. She looked down at the equipment bag Elijah carried. “Are you the videographer team?”
I shook my head. “We’re with Bride magazine. We’re covering the wedding for an upcoming spread.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “The videographer should’ve been here already. The bride is … impatient.” She extended a hand. “I’m Claire, one of the two bridal attendants. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Would you mind pointing us to the bridal suite?”
“Of course. Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”
When we entered, a half-dozen bridesmaids floated around in a posh room, but I didn’t see the guest of honor. “Is the bride around?” I asked. “I’d like to introduce myself and make sure it’s okay to snap some pre-wedding photos of the ladies getting ready.”
“She’s—”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” a woman shrieked from the other room. “This cannot be happening to me!”
Claire leaned in and whispered. “That’s the bride now.”
The way she was screaming, I thought the worst. “Did … the groom call off the wedding?”
Claire shook her head. “No, she probably broke a nail.”
Wonderful.
A door at the back of the room flew open, and Bridezilla marched out. Her hair and makeup were done and a sparkling tiara sat atop her head, but from the neck down she was still in pajamas. “Who’s going next?” She looked around the room and pointed to a bridesmaid. “You! Take off your dress and go get sprayed.”
“Sprayed?” I whispered to the attendant. “What’s going on?”
“The maid of honor flew in last night. She lives in Florida. Apparently, Piper had a fit when she saw her because her friend looks too tan. She thinks it will make the rest of the bridal party look sickly in the pictures. The ladies in the wedding party all received texts late last night to show up two hours early today. Piper hired a person to come give them all spray tans. Said it was mandatory.”
I felt my eyes widen. “You’re joking?”
“Nope.” The bridal attendant offered a weary smile. “I have to go find a place to get ice chips. She doesn’t like cubes. Excuse me for a few minutes. Good luck with the bride.”