“Almost,” I say, pressing a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Just a couple more points. First, I’m fully aware of how unhinged I must sound, talking about rings and marriage when I’ve only been out of my last one for a year. But…I don’t need another decade to know I want to spend forever with you, because you’re the person who makes my ordinary moments feel extraordinary.”
He deflates onto his pillow with a soft groan, like this censorship is utter torment, and I can’t suppress my laugh.
“So, second, if by chance your heart is on the same page, I want to share my life with you in a way that turns every day into something worth remembering.And…”
Linc jolts upright, arms folded, giving me aseriously?look.
I’m dying at the dramatics.
“Finally,” I say, dragging out the word, then quirk a shaky smile, “I want to thank you for listening so patiently. Without further ado, my request is that youdo not respondright now out of impulse, but instead, only after you’ve given it some real thought.”
Because I can’t look at him without dying a slow, tortured death from wondering what he’s thinking, I turn out the lights—still starving, but unable to eat a thing, because who can eat with my whole future at stake?
The next morning, my faith in the Lord is reaffirmed. Not only is the weather app reporting a warm September wedding day with sweet magnolia blossom breezes like I promised Hailey, but my baby is still fast asleep when I leave his house before daybreak. I’m still terrified what he’ll say after mulling over my bombshell of a strange proposal—or plea for him to hurry up and make me his wife, depending on how you look at it.
Either way, I figure it’s out of my hands now.
I’ve shown all my cards, and now Lincoln Bridges must decide how he wants to play it. Meanwhile, I’m out, set to ensure the wedding of the century goes off without a hitch.
At home, I quickly brew a cup of coffee, shower, and dress in my Carolina Herrera floral embroidered cap-sleeve midi-dress with red bow-knot stilettos, simple diamonds, and an evening beat on the face. Then I dash out to Madison Manor armed with my Ever After Essentials Kit tucked under my arm.
The ceremony isn’t until five thirty this evening—however, within twenty minutes of my eight a.m. arrival, the place is buzzing. Florists are installing gorgeous, fragrant white rose and red zinnia arrangements in towering vases in the alcoves and the grand ballroom. It’s loud and chaotic with the sound system and microphones being tested, but the decorations are brimming with exquisite style. Both the photographer and videographer are setting up their lighting and equipment for the sunset photo, so I dip into the kitchen, where the caterers are hard at work, preparing a culinary experience.
“…and you’ve got the labels for the food options?” I ask, my attention flickering between the chef and the menu. I’ve made sure the catering staff knows the menu and serving schedule, but we’ve got to have clearly marked plates for our guests with allergies.
“We’ve prepared, stored, and labeled them separately,” the chef says, calmly.
For too long, I study her even expression before a small smile tugs at my lips. “Let’s see, it’s almost eleven. The bridal breakfast—”
“Is on its way up now.” She blinks slowly, and I can take the hint.
“Yes, of course.” I nod a few times. “Thank you so much. Everything looks exquisite.”
She thanks me, giving me a look that screams,Duh! Now get out ofmy kitchen, trying to micromanage me and my team,before I leave her to her it.
The thing is, I’ve still got a dull ache throbbing over my skin.
I plan quintessential, exclusive affairs—premier events geared toward refinement and ultimate glamour. I’m great at my job. But the one thing I can always count on is something going wrong. It’s the only guarantee, and I’ve made a career of handling snags before they become tears. That’s what sets me apart.
However, I can’t do that if I don’t know what the problem is.
So, after I confirm all the vendors have arrived on schedule, I run around checking in with the manor staff, tending to last-minute details.
It’s no surprise with all the family drama surrounding the Livingstons—and the sister of the bride—that there are no cancellations. The final guest count is intact, including the who’s who of the Ellswood elite. And likely, Luxe Ladies from other regions. Yet there are also no news vans or press helicopters hovering overhead…
My chest tightens as I take my time, completing my indoor walkthrough, dissecting every speck of dust and misplaced flower petal. I take shallow breaths, inspecting with an eagle eye any slippery surfaces, checking the restrooms, flushing the toilets, making sure the ramp I had added at the entrance is wheelchair friendly.
Honestly, I must look like a deranged drill sergeant skulking about the premises, and still, everything is going smoothly. But…toosmoothly?
In the back of my mind, I just know Cornelia and—hopefully, no longer—Nora’s fandom would love nothing more than for something to go terribly wrong at this event so they could blame it on me and Linc. Who still hasn’t called or texted me.
“Breathe, Ebony.”He’s givingit real thought, like you asked. And besides—he’snot going to propose over text message.
Part of me—the clearly dramatic half—was low-key hoping he wouldn’t wait more than an hour. That he’d wake me up in the middle of the night and profess his undying love with a glorious, delicate, and classic diamond ring.“I’d love nothing more than if you’d be Mrs. Ebony Grace Bridges.”
But that didn’t happen, and it likely won’t, because the man honors his promises.
For now, all I can do is get over it, unearth this wedding’s problem lying in wait, and solve it.
