"Every wedding needs a good luck spider," Eliot's mother said. Eliot took a deep breath, muttering a prayer for patience to the universe. His mother was an excellent florist—the best in Meryville—but after thirty years in the business, she'd developed some strange opinions about what made a good ceremony. Sometimes he considered suggesting another florist to his clients, but unless their hearts were set on someone specific, he couldn’t justify recommending anyone other than his mother.

"The couple doesn't want a spider hiding in their floral arrangements," Eliot tried to explain patiently, again.

His mother completely ignored him. "I'll just hide it in the centerpiece. They won't even see it."

Eliot bit his tongue. As soon as her attention moved, he'd remove it before the bride saw it and lost her shit for the fourth time that morning. He'd known Gretchen was going to be a handful—she had been a bridezilla from the start—but that was part of the wedding planning business, and Brightside Weddings was his baby. Even with the prevalence of divorce these days, every couple wanted to believe that this was going to be their only wedding—and Eliot couldn't help but believe it, too. Even when working with someone on their second or third wedding, he couldn't shake his perpetual hope that this would finally be the one for his clients.

Eliot's business partner and best friend, Charlie, picked the perfect moment to ask Eliot's mother for the groomsmen's corsages. Mrs. Bennett gave the plastic spider a little tap, pushing it further into the centerpiece, before following.

"You know, spiders are actually considered good luck for weddings in England." Eliot's sister Jane, not a partner in the company but his essential right hand, came up beside him, carrying the giant clipboard of checklists they used for every wedding.

Eliot pinched the cheap plastic spider out of the arrangement and dropped it on Jane's clipboard. It didn't even look real. It was one of those plain black ones you could buy in bulk for a few dollars around Halloween. "Real spiders. If found on a wedding dress. And is that still even a thing people believe? She found it on some random website. At least she's stopped adding sugar cubes to everyone's bouquets after she got bitched out about that bride being diabetic."

That had been before Eliot had gotten into the business, thankfully. But he hadn't managed to get her to shake the spider thing. The ironic thing was, if his mom were to run into a real spider at a wedding? She'd lose her ever-loving mind.

"So how are we doing?"

Jane tucked the spider into her jacket pocket and consulted her clipboard. "The cake is here. The photographer is getting started on the pre-ceremony shots. The bride and bridesmaids are on their way; they've just finished up at the stylist. So far, no big upsets."

What Jane said was true, regardless of the bride’s four blistering rants this morning. Everything she’d been upset about had been minor, more a problem in her mind than reality.

Eliot chewed on his bottom lip as he surveyed the room. They'd arrived early to decorate, at four in the morning, but everything was complete. The venue had strict rules about when they could be on the premise, when they could start decorating, and when vendors could arrive. It wasn't the worst place they'd worked, but it wasn't the easiest either.

"Stop worrying," Jane admonished. "Nothing is going to go wrong."

"Something always goes wrong," Eliot disagreed. "I just prefer that it happens early enough that I can fix it."

"What about the Wilton-Hayes wedding? Nothing went wrong there."

Eliot gave her an incredulous look. "The father of the bride showed up an hour before the ceremony, drunk as a skunk, and I had to babysit him in a spare room and force him to drink bottle after bottle of water, just so he would be sober enough to stand and walk her down the aisle."

Jane frowned. "He was drunk? I just thought he had a medical condition."

"He did. Alcoholism."

"What about the Storey-Loftis wedding?"

"The photos were delayed because the best man and maid of honor were having sex in the restroom."

"The Avery-Carver wedding?"

"The caterer went into preterm labor while unloading the truck."

Jane's mouth was open in astonishment. "How did I never notice any of this?"

Eliot tossed his head, propping a hand on his hip and lifting his chin proudly. "I'm just that good."

Jane punched his shoulder, laughing. "You're the king of wedding planning."

"Co-king," Charlie said as he came into the room. "This is a partnership, after all. Is the bride here yet?"

Jane checked her phone. "Five minutes."

"Perfect. The photographer is all done with the guys, so she'll have a little time to breathe before the next set of photos."

Everything was flowing smoothly, which was only fueling Eliot's anxiety. He wouldn't feel better until something went wrong. Charlie and Jane thought he was a little crazy, but he had yet to be proven wrong. He'd tried to force something small to go wrong at couple of weddings, things that had easy fixes, but it didn't work. Both times, something catastrophic had gone wrong later on—the caterer going into labor had been one of them. But if something could just naturally go a little wrong early on—like one of the bridesmaids losing an earring—Eliot could fix it, and then trust that the rest of the wedding was going to go smoothly.

The crisis came soon enough. Not ten minutes after the bride's arrival, Jane came to find him, practically tip-toeing in her flats the way she did whenever she was particularly stressed.

"What's wrong?" Eliot asked before she could open her mouth. He started marching toward the door, and Jane flipped around and scurried to his side.

"There's an issue with the dress."

"Stained? Torn?"

Jane opened the door to the bridal prep room, and the screeching voice of the mother of the bride told Eliot everything he needed to know.

"I told you not to eat that creme brulee last night. Or the rice. You've always been fat. You'd think you could manage to ignore your stomach for once, just once, but no. What do you think Kent will think when he sees you with that disgusting gape of flesh? Do you think he wants to marry a fat cow?"

The bride was doing her best to keep from crying, and the bridesmaids and photographer stood around her in shocked uncertainty, clearly uncomfortable with the bride's mother’s words, but not standing up to her.

"Get Charlie," Eliot told Jane before stepping into the fray.

In all of his previous interactions with the bride and her family, the bride had been the most critical person, while her mother sat quietly, never offering an opinion unless it was asked for. The mother had been the last person Eliot had expected to cause an issue. And no matter how much of a pain Gretchen had been during the planning of the wedding, she absolutely did not deserve to be made to feel like shit on her wedding day—especially by her mother.

"What is the problem?" Eliot asked, hoping that the simple reminder that she had an audience would make the woman calm down.

No such luck.

"Look at this." The mom spun the bride around, revealing the corseted back of the dress. A thin sliver of skin peaked out from behind the small strip of fabric that was supposed to protect the skin behind the corseting. "The dress fit perfectly two weeks ago. I warned Gretchen about her diet. No sweets. No gassy foods. This is the most important day of her life and she messed it up. I knew she would, but you always hope for better from your children."

Eliot’s anger built with every word spewing from the woman’s mouth. "Out," he snapped. The bridesmaids and photographer took the command quickly, scurrying out. He'd meant it for the mother, but this would work fine. "This is unacceptable."

"You don't have to tell me. I knew she was going to screw this up, but I’m an optimist at heart. I kept my mouth shut, thinking everything would work out. The world has disappointed me again." She sighed heavily.

"No," Eliot said firmly. "You are being unacceptable. This is not your day. It is Gretchen's, and you are destroying it."

The woman's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me, young man. You can't talk to me like that. Where's your manager? I'll have you fired."

Righteous glee rose inside Eliot. He'd prefer that every wedding went smoothly, that he never had to deal with people like this, but it was inevitable given the industry, and he took deep pleasure in putting them in their place. "I am my boss. I'll be happy to record your complaints and discard them."

The woman's skin was turning an unbecoming shade of red. "You may leave then. We no longer require your services."

Eliot suppressed the smile that threatened to rise. "I don't work for you. I work for Gretchen. And until she tells me my services aren't required, I won't be leaving. You, however, will. You are excused from preparations and will not be needed until family pictures." Charlie knocked discreetly at the door and stepped in. "Charlie will escort you to the refreshments, and we will let you know when your presence is needed."

"You can't kick me out!" the woman protested, but her feet moved as Charlie expertly guided her to the door with a firm grip on her arms. "Gretchen! Gretchen! Tell this man to unhand me."

Gretchen's expression was uncertain, but since she didn't protest, Eliot didn't tell Charlie to stop.

Jane slipped in as the protests faded down the hall. She set down a large tackle box with a thump and closed the door on the curious eyes of the bridesmaids in the hallway.

“You're alright,” Eliot assured Gretchen. “This is your week—your day—to celebrate, and there isn't anything wrong with enjoying food."

"But the dress..." Gretchen sniffed.

Jane handed me a makeup blotter and Eliot dabbed at the moisture escaping Gretchen's eyes.

"The dress will be just fine. You're not the first bride to have a sizing mishap on her wedding day. But there's a reason you hired us—we come prepared."

Jane laid out the emergency swatches of fabric and lace on the table.

"All we have to do is find one that matches, and then you'll be good to go. We'll tuck it in, and no one will know any better other than us."

Gretchen sniffed. "Are you sure?"

Eliot felt badly for any negative thoughts he’d had about Gretchen up to this point. What must life had been like growing up under that awful woman? He couldn’t blame her for fighting tooth and nail for what she wanted on her wedding day. "Absolutely positive. Now how do you feel about letting the others in to help?"

"Not my mother, though, right?" Her fragile voice nearly broke Eliot's heart.

"Not your mother."

Gretchen took a deep breath and nodded.

"Jane will help you get all set, okay?"

Eliot let the other women back in, and they pretended that they hadn't just been eagerly eavesdropping as they filed into the room. Crisis averted, Eliot sighed in relief. Now, he could hope that the rest of the ceremony would flow smoothly.