1 Chapter 1

I’ve always loved weddings, ever since I discovered my parents’ wedding album at the age of five while I rummaged through Mom’s closet for a pair of shoes. I’d had a “date” with Ronnie, the little girl next door, and we liked to play dress up.

The pretty dresses in the pictures, the handsome men in tuxes, and all those happy smiles made me long to be there, too. I wanted to be like the bride, floating down the aisle toward the man of my dreams. Everyone seemed to be over the moon.

I thought to myself, that will be me one day, too.

I just knew it would happen.

So, as I grew older, I learned everything I could about that special day. I read books, magazines, and anything I could get my hands on. My family, as open-minded as they were about my “eccentricities,” as they were termed, didn’t know what to make of my obsession, but I suppose they figured it was better than becoming a serial killer.

As if. I didn’t do blood.

Naturally, as an adult, I ended up working in the field for well-known wedding planner Viola Tremaine, who was tough as nails and made bridezillas—male and female—weep. The waiting list for her exceptional talents was miles long, and her fees were worth the astronomical expense for a Tremaine extravaganza, whether big or small.

I’ve worked for Viola over a ten-year stretch. I knew her every whim and cranky spot. She considered me her right hand, though she assured me I would never be able to replace her if I even dared to think of taking over someday. I readily agreed, since I wanted nothing to do with running a company. I preferred to be in assistant mode, always. Except in bed.

I may be five-foot-ten and slender, but be ye not deceived. I was a top, and no one ever got anywhere near my tight ass. Okay, there’d been oneman, up until a year ago.

Funnily enough, it was Viola’s brother, Van Tremaine. Van absolutely despised anything to do with marriage or any kind of relationship that had the possibility of “forever” tacked onto it. How did I know this? We had slept together for years, but the minute I started hinting at making things permanent, his and his, shared housing and all that, he laughed in my face and told me that happily-ever-after was hogwash. Then he beat a hasty retreat.

He’d never attended a wedding as far as I knew, and he was a staunch supporter of the freedom from entanglements of the matrimonial or partnering kind. It broke my heart that the one man I’d thought would be my forever guy, and the only one who’d ever had my ass, was also a wedding bell grouch. Or was that Grinch? Silly me.

Thus, I left him to his devices as a one-night-stand Lothario and ignored him as much as possible if he so happened to be in the vicinity, which was fairly often since he was Viola’s head of finances, a partner in the company, and worked down the hall.

I hadn’t given up on the idea of happily-ever-after, though that possibility dimmed daily. I was simply too busy to worry about it, despite having my heart broken by someone I’d thought was the one, on some level. Maybe my mother had been right: I was too quick to fall in love with happily-ever-after, rather than see the realities of things.

* * * *

“Paulie, I need you,” Viola yelled from the stage at the five-star hotel where the wedding we’d planned would be taking place in two hours.

“Yes, your royal pain in the ass,” I replied once I made my way to where she stood.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing I adore you like a brother. Otherwise, you’d be fired.”

“Ha,” I retorted. “No one else will put up with you, so you don’t scare me.”

Today’s event was a gay wedding, and we’d had many of those since same-sex marriage had been legalized.

I looked around the platform. “Wait, where are the flowers for the stage? Shouldn’t they be here already?” I checked my iPad. Yes, I’d had them down for delivery half an hour ago.

The grooms-to-be had been adamant about having ten purple roses in ten purple vases lining the stage behind the ten groomsmen—yes, ten—who would be attending them in white suits, lavender shirts, and white ties with lilac polka dots. Hugely overkill, but, hey, that’s what they’d paid for since both men adored purple. I kept thinking Barney and friends would pop up at any second.

I checked my iPad for the name of the florist we’d used and the delivery schedule.

Viola said, “That’s just it. They would have been here, but there was an accident on the freeway. They’re stuck. We need to enact ‘Plan B’ in case they don’t arrive at all.” It was our motto to always be ready for anything, because shit did, indeed, happen. “Please go back to the office and get the corporate credit card from Van and buy some roses, stat.”

Oh, great, I had to deal with him. Van had been anything but civil since I’d cut off the sex, though I didn’t know what his problem was, since he seemed to get enough action, from what I’d heard. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted? I pasted a smile of assent on my face and quickly texted the CFO about the situation so he’d know I’d be stopping by in a few to pick up the card.