Page 78 of Savannah Sweethearts

I ushered the bride’s daughter, also donned in mint green but without the hat, to the front. Behind her went my gym rat, then the other three ladies and their groomsman. The bride and her son came in and brought up the end of the bridal party.

Checking Riviera’s hair and dress one last time, I gave her a genuine smile. “Are you ready? You look spectacular.”

She did not smile, but kept a perfectly neutral face. “I know. Let’s go. I got a honeymoon in Hawaii to get to.”

That genuine smile I gave her was because after this, I was done with her. I didn’t often have bridezillas, but she had definitely become one. Perfection was never achievable, but I couldn’t have told her that. Hopefully at The Promenade I would be able to turn down clients I thought might be a problem. Or at least not have to play bridesmaid for them.

We all marched down the aisle and took our places. This is when I usually went over my mental checklist for the reception. In this case, it would be next door at the local VFW. That was a new one for me, but the groom had been in the Army in his younger days. I had mastered the art of keeping a soft, happy expression on my face while mentally checking out and going over my list.

Something in the crowd caught my eye and a strange sensation came over me. I scanned the room as I felt my face begin to flush. There it was again, the sense that someone was watching me. Not the wedding, but me specifically. I began to scour the faces while trying to maintain composure of my own.

Sure enough, I spotted him. The auburn hair, the piercing blue eyes, and a wicked grin that I had fallen for two years before. Kyle. Our eyes met and his grin widened. I lifted my chin in defiance, but he copied my motion and I immediately lowered mine. Stop, Amaya! Look away! I casually moved my gaze, hoping I appeared casual even though my heart was racing and I could feel sweat roll down my neck.

Why wasn’t Orlando here to save me? No, I could save myself. Why had I booked this bridezilla wedding? How did Kyle know this couple? I wanted to stomp my foot like a child and run away, but I couldn’t. The clock at the back of the room told me I had three more hours. Could I do it? Of course I could. I could do anything. I could stand up to Kyle.

That didn’t stop me from wishing Orlando was here, though. I turned back to the bridal couple just as they kissed. With tongue. Blech. At a church, too. Pushing Kyle from my mind—okay, tucking him into a corner—I helped get the bridal party back around to the other side of the church and inside for pictures. The guests meandered over to the reception and I prayed with everything I had that Kyle had gone home or at least left the church.

The photographer wasn’t familiar with me, so I couldn’t count on him coming to my rescue. I set the family up for pictures and darted to my bag in the back of the church. Grabbing my phone, I texted my sister.

Amaya: Kyle is at this wedding I’m working. Help!

Linaya: No! Leave. Get out of there!

Amaya: I can’t, I’m working.

Linaya: Call Orlando.

Amaya: No.

Linaya: Why not?

The photographer called for bridesmaids, so I shoved my phone down the front of my dress and took my spot. I smiled, but I was sure I looked more panicked than happy. When the groomsmen joined us, the photographer had them wear our hats. Everyone laughed, but I felt like I was gong to get sick. Kyle was here.

Excused again for the bride and groom to take pictures with their children I fished my phone from my strapless bra.

Orlando: What’s going on? Linaya just called me and said you needed me.

Ugh, my sister!

Amaya: I’m working a wedding and Kyle is here.

I switched to my sister’s text.

Amaya: You called Orlando?

Linaya: You didn’t respond! I panicked.

A new message from Orlando popped up.

Orlando: Send me a pin of where you are. I’ll come.

Amaya: No! I’m working. I can’t have a date.

Orlando: Don’t care. Even if I don’t come in, I’m coming.

I quickly sent him a pin of my location and released a shaky breath. My phone went back into my dress as the bride called for me.

“My make-up is running,” she yelled at me.

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