I open the door quietly, peering in. Thankfully it's beautifully setup and I step into the spacious Spring Ballroom. Right now, it's full of chairs but I can see just how beautiful it will be. It will be divided into two for Yvonne and Terry's wedding. The walls are covered with a shimmering white paper and in the middle of the ceiling hangs a couple dozen white lantern lights. The ceilings are high, windows wide. I can see modern sliding doors, left slightly ajar to let in the scented summer air. I wish I was contracted to help with the reception too, this would have been so great if it was in my hands. I can already see what the head table can look like, white bows and silk sashes scream at me. Suddenly I can hear muffled sounds. At first it sounds like someone is coughing and I ignore it, walking around to myself. But then it gets louder, and louder.It's crying, hysterical crying. The sobs are only interrupted by the person's need to draw breath. And that person is just behind
The rehearsal went well, almost too well. Father Michael was amazingly efficient, that Gabe and I just had to watch the audience from time to time and field an occasional question from a member of the family. Terry looked glum and stiff as usual. Dean looked happy and relaxed as always, and I caught him looking at me a few times. However, all I could focus on was Yvonne.A strained smile sat permanently on her face as she walked down the aisle with her father, Bill, and she showed her big teeth all the way through Terry's vows. I could see the strain on her face, the sadness in her pretty and wide eyes.Watching the blessing and giving of rings was painful, and even Gabe winced a few times at how distant Yvonne looked during the whole thing. As Father blessed the rings and declared "The circle of the ring declares the unity and the oneness of your two lives, which shall contain your devotion beyond every journey that you may always return again to your togetherness." Yvonne could onl
Miracles do happen, especially in Bangkok. The wedding went full steam ahead! Yvonne texted me at 5am in the morning, and it was the best wakeup call I have had in a long time.The text was so simple but it spoke volumes to me:*Yep, it's still going ahead. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.*Even though I didn't need to get to the church until 10am, I was too excited to go back to bed. The wedding went ahead! Tristan won't fire me! Setting up the church and the rest of the preparations was relatively smooth and hassle free tying the white ribbons to the wooden benches, putting the church programs at the entrance, prepping the altar. The makeup and hair stylists met Yvonne at the hotel as expected, and after that I felt a lot more relaxed about this wedding, much more than many of the others I had planned in the past.Even though Yvonne didn't tell me whether she and Terry had resolved their problems, something told me that she took my advice. And I was right because just o
Resting my head on the deck chair, I put my large sunhat over my face as I relish the tropical sun tanning my body in my black triangle bikini. In the distance there's traffic, but far away enough not to bother me. My cell phone is back at the resort, just two hundred feet away. The events of the last week almost sent me into a near panic attack, but now that feels like a million years ago. I could sit here all day. Note to self, book a holiday to come back here as soon as possible."This was such a good idea," I turn my head to the right to speak to Gabe, in the deck chair next to mine. "I told you," he replies, his eyes shielded by trendy sunglasses. The large rainbow coloured beach umbrella is tent like, giving us the perfect coverage to bask in this tropical heat without roasting ourselves silly. After the wedding finished, Gabe insisted staying a few days to explore, and this time he wanted me to join him. I couldn't resist the offer to enjoy some down time in Thailand. We
BOOK FOUR: PARIS Grabbing the box of tissues, I groan when I realised I've grabbed the last one. Ugh. Somehow I've gone through a fresh box in the last six hours, and my nose is still flowing like the Nile River. This flu is ghastly. I have a clown red nose; my voice is so hoarse and raspy that I think I have become a man. Given how hectic my schedule has been over the last three weeks, I'm not surprised that I look like I'm two shades away from being a living corpse. To say I have been busy is a massive understatement, which has clearly taken a toll on my body. Ever since I came home from Bangkok, the enquiries have been flooding in. There was a wedding in Bali five weeks ago, one in New Zealand this past week, and one in Fiji coming up in two weeks. I think I'm starting to get the hang of all of this and setting myself into a rhythm - I get to plan the wedding from the comfort of my own home, and communicate with the client via phone, email, and video chat. Depending on what th
Ivy and ferns grow through the crevices of the old winding stone path, which lead directly to the vast residence straight ahead. Behind the white picket fence, the red-brown bricked home stands brightly under the sun, flanked by neatly trimmed shrubs and potted plants. The house has two stories and a one story extension at the rear for the kitchen. A small flower garden is planted in the front. Though most of the time it is carefully planned and loved, now it is riddled with weeds.This is the house I grew up in, and I always feel a sense of genuine happiness whenever I walk towards the blue front door. I turn the golden knob and walk in to the smell of noodles being pan-fried. My mom, Elaine, is the cook in the family, and she is definitely making lunch. I walk into the open kitchen, confirming my suspicions. Mom is busy tossing the sliced beef, bean sprouts and noodles on the wok, and Dad is pouring some hot tea. It's usually jasmine or green tea, at mom's insistence. "Doodlebug
I'm excited to do this thing! The wedding is for Marie Herveaux, a forty-two-year-old , a socialite from New York who is getting married to Alain Langlais, a forty-five-year-old businessman. Tristan was able to secure her because he had planned several fundraisers for her in the past and combined with my reputation and expertise, she was more than convinced to hire us. Hopefully third time's a charm, but they are definitely sparing no expense. We have a two-day extravaganza to plan for them: an intimate family-only ceremony and dinner reception on Friday at Chateau de Riviera, 15th Century castle about forty kilometres north of Paris. Because Alain is a naturalised citizen, the paperwork side of things has been fairly smooth and I was able to expedite the arrangement of a legally binding ceremony. This will then be followed the next day with a more relaxed, and deliciously banquet-filled reception which overlooks the Seine River for their friends and extended family. Divine, just d
"I look forward to meeting you and Mr. Langlais tomorrow, Ms. Herveaux. If you need anything in the meantime, do not hesitate to contact myself, Mr. Sasse, or Mr. Keys. Au revoir!" I hang up on my voicemail. I've tried to reach her and Alain separately, but since they're not picking up I think a voicemail will be more than enough. It's 6PM, it's probably their dinner time and they don't want to deal with this right now. Putting the phone down on the desk, I walk over to the bed and plunk my head on it, relishing at the gorgeous surroundings I am in. With a fitness centre and spa, Le Boutique Hotel Jardin is a luxurious boutique hotel located in the heart of Paris. It also boasts an elegant lobby with archways and high ceilings. Just a five-minute walk from the Luxembourg Gardens and Notre-Dame-des-Champs Metro Station, I can literally walk to the centre of the city. The hotel's decor is a tribute to French and international literature and my rooms even have an iPod docking station an
"God, you do sound like a pom, you've definitely been here too long," Tristan teases over the way I unintentionally pronounced yoghurt in a British accent. "Have not! Although the winters here are chilly, I miss our summer Christmases.""That's okay, I'm here to keep you warm."I bite my lip, loving how close he is to me. "So, what are you doing all the way out here?"He smirks at me, his gaze full of warmth. "I think you have an idea, no?" My cheeks warm as he huddles closer to my body, his height towering over me. We're standing on the end of Waterloo Bridge, the River Thames and the London Eye lying behind us like a beautiful backdrop. It's dark and the surrounding trees on the footpath are beautifully bright, adorned in blue lights. It was drizzling earlier, but it's now stopped and the pavement is mildly damp, adding to the general chill of the city. My suitcase by my side, Tristan is hovering over me as he backs me into the walled railing, his gloved hands rubbing my arms
Tristan. Is. Here. In.London.Specifically, he is outside the house where I have been living in London, with another man. A man who I've just broken up with. "Taxi Delivery Service, how may I help you?" the phone operator utters on the other end of the line, but it fails to reach my consciousness.Whathowwhoso many incomprehensible thoughts are racking through my mind right now. My heart is pounding like a jack hammer at the sight of him in a long black coat, jeans and scarf. The coffee eggnog is really not helping right now. "Hi" I whisper, barely audible. My insides are flooding with nerves. A jar of butterflies has dropped inside my stomach and they are flying everywhere."Hello? Is anyone there?" The call operator speaks through the receiver. I use any semblance of my wit to press the hang up button, my fingers are shaky as I keep my eyes locked on Tristan. What is he doing here?There's a black taxi on the kerb behind him, presumably the one that dropped him off. It does
I walk up to the door, a full gift bag in each of my hands. I drop my bag to get the key when Giles, the driver, walks up to me. "Let me get the bag, Miss." Giving him a polite smile, I let him hold the bag as I open the door. "Thank you," I say as I open the door and he puts the bags right inside the entrance."Have a nice Christmas, Miss Ryan." Giles, the driver smiles at me warmly before he starts walking off. "Thank you, same to you and your family. Merry Christmas!" I give him a fat grin and wave at him.Closing the door, my smile drops instantly and I clench my jaw at how irritated I am. It's Christmas Eve, the jolliest time of year. I've just come back from Amelia and Kieran's beautiful house in Hertfordshire where I had lunch with them and I am lightly tipsy from Kieran's egg nog coffee punch. Everything was so delicious. Caramelized onion tarts with apples. Brussel sprouts with chestnuts & sage. Chunky roast potatoes. Crisp honey mustard parsnips. Bacon, sausage & prun
It's the Christmas season! The days are short, nights are long, showers go longer. There are so many things I love about winter. I love making hot Belgian chocolate and those little marshmallows, I love snuggling up on the couch with a book in my thick robe and furry shoes, a doona draped over me. I love the food associated with winter: soups, casseroles, roasts. I'll be spending my first Christmas in London, and Amelia has invited Edmund and me over to their place for lunch Christmas Eve. I cannot wait to have my first proper winter Christmas. I just hope Edmund can make it. I'm sure that work will die down by then and I can have some quality time with him, the fun Edmund I haven't seen too much since I've been here. There's still been no progress on the assistant front, so I've been keeping busy by pursuing culinary perfection. With another two weeks to go until the day, I've been in the kitchen non-stop since I've arrived and I like to think my cooking skills have improved immense
I plop my head on the fluffy mattress, panting loudly as I let the post coital experience wash over me. Something is wrong with me. I just slept with my boyfriend for the first time, but I came thinking about my ex-fake husband. No, it was purely coincidental. It's just the half bottle of pinot gris swirling in my head, that's it surely. Instead, I'm going to bask in how nice that was.That was not bad, not bad at all. It wasn't fireworks but it was nice and efficient. He definitely knows a thing or two about pleasing a woman, that's for sure. He was very attentive, gentle, tender even. Just what I like - what I prefer. Unlike Tristan, who is all so aggressive. The way he grabs my hips so roughly, the way he pulls my hair, the way he bites my lip andgah! No more reminiscing! I'm so ashamed of myself, what's wrong with me? Noit's just a once-off. It won't happen again. I'm sure of it."How was that for you?" Edmund asks coolly as he looks down at me. His face is slick with a thin la
My feet tapping against the leg of the small mahogany table, I check my phone to see if there are any text messages. Nope, nothing. My guest should be on time, I'm just early. Looking around the café, I'm glad this place was picked. I'm sitting in the middle of The Purple Hare, a rustic and inviting mahogany infused restaurant in the middle of Chelsea. Packed to the brim with drunk and merry locals clad in wintry garb, the woody and earthy ambience mixed with the smell of Guinness, grilled steak and mashed potatoes makes the place feel like a second home almost. I am about to press the call button when the door flies open. "Hey!" Amelia waves excitedly at me but my mouth pops open at the sight of her in a long black parka jacket, jeans and boots. She said she had a surprise for me, but this was the last thing I expected.Standing up, I point at her stomach, which is a heck of a lot bigger than when I last saw it. "Oh my goodness, you are as full as a house!"A permanent grin
London baby, I have arrived! As Edmund and I sit in the back of the chauffeur driven car, my face is plastered to the window as I take in this new city that is now my home. There's so much to take in: it's incredible how one place can have so much vibrancy, multiculturalism, and a cosmopolitan edge all at once: the sky scraper buildings, glamourous clothes shops filling the high streets, the internationally renowned restaurants, the parks, the double deckers, the black cabs. And then there's the history: Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, the London Eye, 10 Downing Street, the Tower Bridge, the Great Fire, Barbican Arts Gallery. This city is truly a perfect blending of the past and present. Just when I am keen on continuing the driving tour, the car pulls up and I turn to Edmund, my mouth having popped open at where we've stopped."Tell me you're joking. This is not your place." Edmund chuckles heartily. "Is that a good thing?"I turn back to press my fa
"Call us the second you get there, alright?" Mom repeats herself for the fifth time in two hours. I am standing outside my favourite Japanese restaurant on Bridge Street in Wynyard, saying my final goodbyes for the night. Gabe has gone home and it's just me and my family, who won't let me get into my car and drive back home. It's my farewell party with my loved ones, and I've spent the night laughing, getting sentimental and emotional with my parents, Hansley, Jackie, and Gabe. My flight is tomorrow morning, and because I would find it too difficult to say goodbye to any of them at the airport, I suggested dinner instead. Less invasive this way."I get there at six in the evening, it will be three in the morning for you. I'll just text you first," I insist and she scowls at me."Fine, but as soon as you get off the plane, alright? I don't care what time. I just need to know you are safe. I will be expecting a text at 3AM," she insists, her tone unyieldingly stern. I nod at her dogg
Pacing around the room, I play with my fingers as I wait nervously. Don't be afraid, just tell him. He'll understand, I know it. As I continue rehearsing what I need to say, my door knocks. Okay, he's here. Taking a deep inhalation, I shuffle to the door and open it to greet the person on the other side."Hi darl!" Gabe leans in to give me an air kiss, before holding up a cheese platter and packet of crackers in front of me. "Okay, gossip time. I think the occasion calls for cheese and crackers."He has no idea what I've got in store for him. I grin as I take the food from him. "I'll get the bottle of wine. But I'm making chicken fajitas, so keep your stomach free for them."Closing the door behind him, Gabe saunters in looking like his fabulous self in a navy crested jacket and white pants. I put the cheese and crackers on the dining table, before grabbing the silver glittery gift bag sitting on one of the chairs. "Here, just a little something for helping out. How was it bac