It’s usually fun watching ladies swoon and go crazy over another woman in love. Everyone loves the thought of being in love and telling stories of being in love. Isn’t that the beautiful part of a bridal shower? It hurts though, like a massive gaping wound, when your love has barricaded himself away from you.
Jenna has a hell of a party planned for Aran and all of her friends, especially since she opted to go without a Bachelorette Party. That woman should be an event coordinator or a party planner because she’s got mad skills for getting a crowd revved up and having fun. You can tell she’s a performer at heart.
She and Aran are including me in everything since I only know them, but ‘Fun’ Isabella isn’t feeling it tonight. I’m trying hard not to let it show, but that damn women’s intuition is ruling. They both ask me several times if I’m alright. I nod and smile cheerfully, lying straight through my chubby cheeks.
Aran finally gives up and corners me while we’re eating cake. “Alright, sister,” she elbows me in the hip. “You need to tell me his name and we’ll make him pay for this hurt he’s causing you.” She points her fork at my chest with each word that passes her lips.
“Love can suck sometimes,” I mumble, not wanting anyone to hear the wedding planner saying that.
“Yeah, it can. Especially when it’s uncertain,” she agrees. “But you’ll know it when it’s real. You want to fight for it, don’t you? I can tell.”
“With every cell in my body,” I breathe. “But he’s got issues.”
“Don’t they all?” she asks. “I haven’t met a man yet that doesn’t have issues. They just don’t like to appear weak in dealing with them, so they don’t deal with them at all. Until a woman comes along and makes them deal with their shit. If...IF they deal with it, you know it’s love.”
“And if they run and hide?” I ask.
“Then let them run and hide. They’ll do one of two things— one, they’ll only hide for so long before they miss you and realize what an ass they’ve been, or two, they’ll bury more of their shit, only deeper this time, and that’s not the kind of love or life you want anyway. So then you thank your lucky stars they ran and you get to move on, for your real love to come along.”
“How’d you get to be so well-versed in love?” I ask, hugging her tight.
“I’ve been around nothing but troubled men: Nick, Kyle, Frank, and more than a few old boyfriends,” she admits. “It’ll all work out in the end. Frank will come around.”
I tilt my head and raise my eyebrow in surprise at her guess. “Your eyes gleamed when I said his name,” she whispers. “Plus the wait staff around here are gossips, and it’s a very small town.” She winks at me as if to say ‘welcome to Knightsen’. She pats my arm and saunters off when someone calls her name to start opening gifts.
After the party, I wander out to the bar to see if he’s arrived yet but don’t see him. Our booth is empty, so I take a seat. Our booth...I let the melancholy take over sitting here alone.
Damn it. I’m just a wedding planner, not a therapist. I can’t fix him. I’m stubborn and bull-headed. I’m pushy and loud; sassy and argumentative. His life won’t be dull with me around, but I guess that’s why he ran back to the peace and solitude of his lonely existence.
The broken man that left me will probably take a lifetime to heal, and I don’t have that kind of time. I want to live now. Be with him now. Love him now. I don’t care if it’s a slow-burning love that I have to stoke the embers every day. I’ll do the work. I’m not afraid, but he won’t give me the thing I need most— his time.
An hour passes and he doesn’t show. The waitress stops by to check on me and I ask if she expects Frank this evening. She says yes, but doesn’t know when. I nurse my glass of wine, knowing I have to drive back to San Francisco tonight. While waiting, I start decorating the barn rafters with wedding lights in my mind. The tables and chairs get mentally re-arranged into bride and groom rows. These are the games I play with myself to pass the time.
Another long hour passes. I continue to abstractly construct several huge wedding tents for the reception out back, taking up most of the lot. His heavy metal music plays on tape over the speakers, and for the first time ever, it doesn’t bother me. My foot taps absently to it, while I continue to plan our wedding. Something I’ve been doing since I was a little girl. I just never knew who the groom was. Now I can put a face and a name to my dreams.
My phone rings, causing me to jump. I scoop it up quickly, but it isn’t Frank’s name on the screen. It’s Vanessa Chambers. I haven’t spoken to her in over two years. Not since her fiance died in battle a few days before his return home from deployment.
“Vanessa, sweetheart. How are you?” I squeal with excitement.
“I’m getting married!” she squeals in return. “Can you believe it?”
“That’s wonderful news. I’m so excited for you,” I giggle, happy that she’s found love again. “Do you need a wedding planner, because I’m pretty damn sure I know a woman.”
“As a matter of fact, I want you to come see me and meet Jeremy, like now,” she hints. “Hurry up and get here.” She laughs, and I hear a man’s voice in the background holler for me to hurry up.
“Well, I’m in Knightsen. I can be there in an hour,” I advise.
“Make it faster than that, and I’ll supply the Chocolate Mint ice cream,” she teases me. She knows the way to my heart. “Same address. Park in the alley.”
“Deal,” I say, before hanging up. The clock says ten minutes until seven. I wonder if I can be there by eight? I guess we’ll see. I throw my purse over my shoulder and head out through the back patio, the same way I came in, unnoticed.
Within the hour, I’m pulling into her back alley and opening the latch on her fence. She runs across the lawn in bare feet practically falling into me. She looks amazing, and that wide smile of hers still makes me think of bright sunshine. Vanessa is a true blond with gorgeous green eyes. She’s got this alabaster skin that makes her look like a porcelain doll. She’s true beauty and elegance with a deep soul.
“So, talk. Give me the details, lady,” I beg. We sit on the patio under the expansive Maple tree, enjoying the full evening sun. “Tell me about your love.”
“Jeremy is a customer of mine at the bakery,” she starts. “He knew what had happened because of the local news and my closing of the shop. At first, he would just check on me every so often, making sure I was okay. Then it progressed into bringing me things, little trinkets, to make me smile or ideas for the shop because Jeremy is in marketing. Then finally, after about a year of occasional meaningful conversations, he asked me out for coffee.”
“So, it’s been a slow-burning romance?” I ask, smiling at the look of pure happiness on her face.
“Yes, but don’t get me wrong. We’ve had our ups and downs. Mainly my downs,” she confides. “I’ve battled guilt, depression, memory overload, sleeplessness, anxiety and so many other feelings, but he’s been there through it all. He just wouldn’t leave. He’s constant, and that’s what I needed. The security of a relationship without the pressure of the relationship, if that makes any sense?”
“Girl, these are words for my soul. They make complete sense,” I assure her.
The screen door creaks open and a very tall, dark handsome man walks towards us carrying a tray of ice cream pints, bowls, spoons, and several toppings for sundaes. He even has a can of spray whipped cream, the extra creamy brand. We both giggle like eight-year-olds when he sets it down in front of us. “Go ahead, Ladies,” he says. “Don’t be shy.”
We both reach for our perspective pints because we know each other so well. We ignore the bowls and start loading toppings right into the pint carton. She holds her pint out to me to spritz it with some of the whipped cream, and then I do the same to mine. We both laugh as we take in the shocked look on his face, but he smiles and we roll with more laughter. “He’s a keeper, for sure,” I mumble with a mouth full of ice cream, mini chocolate chips, and some of the cream.
I finally introduce myself to Jeremy after a few bites. “You’re a brave man for bringing two old friends some ice cream and staying through the fray of toppings,” I tease. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeremy. I’m Isabella, otherwise known as ‘the wedding planner’. We each reach across the patio table and shake hands.
“I’d do anything for Vanessa,” he purrs, grabbing her hand and caressing it with his thumb. Oh, this man is in love. He’s practically got moonbeams shining from his eyes.
“Have you set a date yet?” I ask. They both look at each other like they’ve got a secret, and turn their heads towards me.
“We were hoping next month?” Vanessa says, looking hopeful with a slight blush on her face and her warm smile.
“Oh, wow,” I mouth, trying to keep my look of surprise in check. I start shaking my head, smiling like a crazy woman. “You know, I’d do anything to see you happy again. It honestly doesn’t matter how crazy this is going to get because it’s gonna be worth it.”
Jeremy starts gathering up our ice cream mess. “I’ll leave you ladies to plan it then,” he says, and stands and starts to leave.
“Oh, no you don’t, Mister,” I call to him. “You can leave, for now, so we can catch up, but you are most definitely helping to plan your wedding. Just know that.” I wink at him and he looks at Vanessa before smiling sheepishly.
“You got it, Wedding Planner,” he chuckles before heading inside.
Vanessa leans forward on her cushioned seat and grabs my left hand, rubbing her fingers over my empty ring finger. “Now tell me why this is still empty after two years,” she demands.
“Oh, you know...always the planner, never the bride,” I laugh nervously. I get the feeling I’m about to get a stern talking too from a concerned friend. “Funny that you say that,” I say, scooting back further into the lounge chair while trying to dispel her thoughts on my singular status. “I’ve found someone, but he’s got a shit ton of baggage and it’s preventing us from being together.”
“You just need to help him unpack his luggage,” she chuckles at her joke but stops immediately when she sees my distressed face. “I get it. It’s harder than it looks, but he’ll do it for the right person. And that’s gotta be you. He just needs a bit of convincing.”
“You and he have a lot in common,” I say, sinking back further into my seat and tucking my feet underneath me. “He lost his fiance in a bad car wreck a few days before their wedding. He undid her seatbelt and her neck snapped. He’s got it seared in his memory that he killed her.”
“Holy shit, Isabella,” she exclaims. “How the hell are you handling that?”
“Currently, we aren’t,” I sigh heavily. “He came to one of my weddings last week after I left his house without a word two weeks prior. We had been intimate, and he called me by her name. It crushed me and I ran away. At that point, he still hadn’t told me how she died. So, when he showed up, I made him spill it, then and there, demanding that he tell me everything. I forced him to relive their final, traumatic moments together. It was an ugly cry of a confession, and I haven’t been able to connect with him since. I need to apologize for pushing him, but he won’t answer my calls or texts.”
“In speaking from experience, I would just slow down and let time roll you back to each other,” she offers. “Just keep showing up and being there. Let him know you aren’t going anywhere and that he’s your man even with knowing the truth. Love after death is a very steep mountain, but each small step will still get you to the top.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning forward to accept her tight hug. “That means a lot coming from a survivor.”
“And don’t ever think that men don’t like to be chased and courted because I know better,” she winks.
“My upcoming wedding this weekend is for a family member of his,” I say, twisting the corner of her throw pillow nervously. “It’s actually taking place in his bar. It’s a big NBA celebrity wedding. I’m going to have to come up with a plan to get through the event and get him to talk to me.”
“Ooh, I’m up for a celebrity wedding,” she exclaims, teasing me with a wink and that full face gorgeous smile she owns. No wonder Jeremy is madly in love with her. “If Jeremy and I were to be invited as potential clients...or we can crash it, let me know which one works best for you...then I can be there for moral support and maybe feel him out on your behalf. Maybe work some of my magic on him. What do you think?”
“Oh, I think that’s a perfect idea,” I clap my hands together and laugh in agreement. “Now I need to plan my approach.”
“Don’t you worry, Bella,” she appeals in that loving manner she has, “the next wedding going on your calendar is going to be yours. I have a good feeling about this.” My eyes glisten with tears, but I don’t let them fall. No sense in crying over that great news.
After another hour of catching up and coming up with ideas for my ‘Operation Frank’ plan, we say our goodbye’s with a promise to see each other in a few days at the wedding. I’m so excited for her to start planning her rejuvenation of love wedding. It’s going to be amazing.
If ever I needed a fairy godmother to help with Frank, she was perfect timing.