Page 38 of Magnetic God

Dave

Can you be here around 5:30 instead? One of my brides is running late.

Yup. See you then.

At four forty-five, Renee buzzes my office to let me know my new client has finally arrived.

Renee’s voice is low as she says, “Oh my good god. This woman is whack-o. You’re going to need all the good vibes with this one.”

I snort. “Is she in the consultation room?”

“Yes.”

“Is the groom with her?”

There’s been times when the groom literally only shows up for the wedding. If the bride is going to be a handful, then it might be better if she’s alone.

“He’s here, too. Real good looking. I have no idea why they’re getting married.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They act like they can’t stand each other, especially on his end.”

“Well, this is going to be fun.”

“Like I said, you’re going to need all the good vibes you can get. And I have the sage ready to go for when they leave.”

I’m laughing as I hang up the phone because I know Renee isn’t kidding. She’s definitely going to sage the room when they’re gone.

Normally, I’d be rushing to the consultation room, so the clients don’t have to wait, but they’re the ones who are nearly two hours late. So, I finish my coffee and then use the bathroom attached to my office to reapply my lipstick and re-do my ponytail. After spritzing my perfume, I head back to my office and grab my iPad from my desk.

Time to do this.

I have a practiced smile on my face as I enter the consultation room.

This is one of my favorite rooms in my building. The walls are classic white baroque with floral moldings and columns that make the room feel regal. The view outside the window is the garden. It feels romantic and dreamy year-round. I went with a white leather couch that sits four. Sometimes, the bride likes to bring a friend or family member. In this case, the bride and groom sit at opposite ends of the couch. Guess Ren wasn’t kidding about that.

The bride is a brunette, with a short bob. I can tell just by the way she’s sitting that she means business. My god. How does anyone sit that straight? The groom, on the other hand, is slouched, leaning to the side. He’s literally leaning as far away from her as he can, making me wonder if I’m not walking in on an argument. Where she is clean and proper, he appears more disheveled. His dark hair is touching his shoulders and there are pieces out-of-place like he’s run his fingers through it recently.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say as I round the desk. “A call went longer than expected.”

My entire body jerks as I make eye contact with the groom. No! He has a similar look of shock on his face. I sink into my chair and discreetly pinch my wrist. God knows this feels like a nightmare.

Because I’m staring back at Brooks-mother-fucking-Henderson.

And his bride-to-be.

Oh my god. I really feel like I’m going to be sick.

I rise to my feet and say, “Excuse me.”

The bride opens her mouth to speak, but I get the hell out of there before I have to listen to her.

In the hallway, I bend at the waist, inhaling deeply. A war rages deep inside of me. Part of me wants to go back to my office and have Renee tell the couple that I can’t be their wedding planner. The other part of me wants to march back in there and act like this is any other wedding. That seeing Brooks isn’t killing me.

But can I do it?

That’s the million-dollar question. Literally. Because that’s what I’m going to lose if I turn down this wedding. Not only that, but this wedding might be the one that puts me over the top of the hill that I’m so desperately trying to climb.

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