𝐒 𝐎 𝐏 𝐇 𝐈 𝐀
There is a moment in time where the stars align, and everything falls into place.
When all the long nights and the countless hours spent worrying that something will go wrong, no longer matter. When you can finally breathe after months, or even a year, of planning the perfect wedding. This is that moment in time.
Wedding planning is an art that takes careful precision. Even the smallest of complications can spiral into something significant that can affect everything.
A year in the making had led us to this day, the wedding day. Soft, melodic music flows through the air surrounding the outside reception area, harmonizing with the laughter and joyful cheers of the guests, who all have delighted smiles playing on their lips. The happiness of every person resonates through the air. Kids merrily chase each other, weaving in and out of the elegantly decorated tables, giggling as they go. The bride and groom stand out amongst the guests, dancing gracefully.
Nothing can go wrong, and today is the day where it all counts. The day that makes all the stressful times and the many last-minute changes worth it. To see the elated smiles grace the bride and groom's faces as everyone around them celebrates in their matrimony.
I tap my nails against the marble countertop bar beside me. I watch the happy couple and the guests as if waiting for something to go wrong, because it can. A waiter tripping and spilling the food, a gatecrasher or a drunk aunt who tries to ruin the wedding. Name it and in my many years of wedding planning, it has more than likely happened. I need to be alert at every second and nothing can distract me, because that's when something is more than likely to go wrong.
What is the biggest distraction known to women everywhere? Men.
Feeling eyes burning into my side, a good-looking guy appears in my peripheral vision. Taking a seat next to me at the bar, his eyes stray away from me for a second and to the bartender.
"I'll take a beer and whatever this beautiful lady beside me would like," a deep voice orders. I tear my eyes away from the wedding reception to focus on the man next to me. My eyes connect with his deep brown ones as he stares back at me.
"Oh no, I'm not drinking. But thank you, that's kind of you," I say, giving a small polite smile.
"Not even one drink? A wedding is a cause for celebration," the man persists. "And I refuse for a beautiful woman to pay for a drink."
"I'm actually the wedding planner, so no drinking for me tonight." I laugh.
"Oh really? Beautiful and successful. You've done an outstanding job with the wedding," the man flirts. "Have you been doing it long?" he asks, starting up a conversation.
"Around three and a half years now," I tell him. "So I've been to my fair share of weddings." More than I can count, actually.
"And you're not married?" As if you need to be married to become a wedding planner. I shake my head and purse my nude, color-stained lips that complement my fair skin. This is a common misconception people have about wedding planners. That we're all married.
"Must be my lucky day, although I'd feel a lot luckier if I could get your number. If you won't let me buy you a drink, maybe we can have a drink another time. Or dinner."
"I'm not one for dating. I'm very career focused right now. Speaking of my career, I should go check on my colleagues. I hope you enjoy your drink and the rest of the wedding." I gently let him down before standing up, smoothing down my dress. Giving one last polite smile, I turn around and make my way through the outside reception area towards my assistant, Nicole. Her red painted lips, that I can see are pulled into a smirk the closer I get, contrasts with her light brown skin.
"You're allowed to have fun, you know," Nicole teases, and I playfully roll my eyes at her. "You're twenty-four, not sixty, and living with five cats. Well, at least not yet anyway," she adds.
"Is that your way of telling me I'm going to be sixty years old and a cat lady?"
"If the shoe fits." Nicole winks, and I chuckle, shaking my head. "But as your friend and assistant, I will never let you get a cat. It's a downwards spiral from there. My aunt bought one cat. Six months later, she had four cats, no social life, and hadn't had sex in those four months. Coincidence? I think not."
"I'm working. My focus is on this wedding and the four other weddings that we are working on. Guys are a distraction anyway," I tell her.
"Well, as a guy, I'm offended." My photographer Jackson appears next to us, feigning offense. His camera hanging around his neck looks out of place against his formal attire.
"Shouldn't you be, you know, taking photos? Doing your job?" I tease him, and he smiles sarcastically before lifting his camera up and snapping a picture of me. I roll my eyes at him and playfully shove him.
"After three and a half years of working together, you should know that annoying you comes before doing my actual job." Jackson smirks.
"Can you fire someone for being annoying?" I whisper to Nicole, who rolls her eyes at our back-and-forth remarks.
"If you were going to fire me, you would have done it a long time ago," Jackson points out. He's not wrong. Nicole and Jackson helped me build up the wedding planning business after I graduated from Columbia University. They've been here from the start and they're some of my best friends rather than work colleagues.
"Would you relax? The wedding was perfect. I've walked past at least ten people so far who said it was," Nicole says, "The hard part is over."
"I'm still not taking any chances; anything can go wrong. Remember one of our first few weddings where the ex-boyfriend turned up? Crashed the wedding and confessed his undying love for the married bride," I reminisce.
"That was not a good wedding." Jackson winces, and I nod. "But that was one of our first weddings. We had some glitches." Jackson shrugs. "We're a lot more experienced now."
"Sophia!" someone shouts and I see the bride, Addison, waving me over to her.
"The bridezilla calls," Nicole mutters and I chuckle. Nicole isn't wrong. I've come across enough bridezillas in my many years of wedding planning to know the signs. In fact, during the first ten minutes of meeting the bride to be, I can tell what type of client she will be. Addison falls into what I call stage two of the bridezilla scale.
Does she live and breathe wedding details? Yes.
Talking about the wedding any chance she gets? To anyone who will listen? Even if she doesn't know them? Yes.
Requesting to change wedding details at the last minute? Yes.
This is stage two of the bridezilla scale. Thankfully, over the years, I've learned how to deal with all types of brides. Although difficult, it's manageable. Addison isn't the worst bridezilla I've ever encountered, and at the end of the day, it's their wedding. So, of course, they want it to be perfect. Some brides forget about human decency along the way.
"My day isn't over yet," I sigh before heading over to Addison. "How is the new Mrs. Lawson doing?" I tease, and her beaming smile is blinding.
"Amazing." Addison sighs in contentment. "Thank you so much for everything you've done. My wedding was perfect," Addison gushes. "And I'd like to apologize for my many phone calls. I don't know how you put up with me." It wasn't easy. But I'd never tell her that.
"No worries. I hope you and Matthew have a lovely honeymoon, and a long-lasting marriage," I say. I feel my phone vibrate. Holding it against my clutch, I look down and read the text. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going to do my checks to make sure everything is running smoothly," I say, keeping her oblivious to the code yellow text I received from Nicole.
"Oh, of course, I should go mingle too," Addison says, waving to some more people. Excusing myself, I make my way back over to Nicole, who fills me in on the problem.
Like I said, the day isn't over quite yet.
━━━━━━━━━
Huffing as I drop my keys on the floor and pull my heels off, I close the door to my apartment behind me. Sighing at the feeling of no longer having to wear heels, or as I call them, death traps, I switch on the lights and pick up my keys from the floor. I make my way to the kitchen and place all my stuff down on the marble kitchen island. Opening the fridge, I take out a bottle of wine, grab a glass from the cupboard and pour myself a glass.
Another wedding down...time for the Bachelor.
I head into the living room and sit down on the light gray couch. It perfectly matches the interior of my white walls, birch wood flooring that is covered by a white fluffy rug and aesthetic side furniture pieces, pictures, and ornaments. I put on the Bachelor and lean back, sipping my wine. On the table, my phone lights up with a call from my best friend Victoria, and I pick up quickly.
"Let me guess, you're watching the Bachelor and drinking wine?" Victoria says. Now I could lie and tell her I'm getting ready to head to a bar with Nicole and Jackson so she wouldn't be correct. But as my best friend of seven years, she would see straight through my lie. One, because she knows I'd never go to a bar or drinking without her. Two, because she knows I would rather keep my life and going drinking without her would put an end to it. She can be scary when she wants to be. More so when it involves drinking or shopping without her.
"You know me so well." I smile, sipping my wine.
"You're the only twenty-four-year-old woman I know who after a long day of work would rather drink at home and watch TV than drinking at a bar or in a club with your best friend surrounded by a lot of hot guys," Victoria says.
I roll my eyes. "I'm one of a kind and don't you forget it," I tease and hear her chuckle on the other end. "I have new clients tomorrow, so I can't afford to get drunk and be hungover."
"You work too much, you know that?"
There it is. The phrase I am told a lot by my friends, family, or colleagues. I work too much. It's true. However, I worked hard to get where I am today and where my business is today. I wouldn't let anything jeopardize that. It's not as if I don't have a social life. I go out from time to time and enjoy myself. But I would never prioritize this over my business. One critical review from any of my high-profile clients might ruin me.
Welcome to the business world of New York.
"You don't work enough," I tease, and Victoria scoffs.
"I'll have you know I am one of the best art curators at MOMA and they are lucky to have me," Victoria corrects. "Ok, so I turn up late sometimes, or hungover, but at least I turn up," she admits and I chuckle. "How was the wedding of bridezilla?"
"She wasn't that bad compared to some of my clients in the past," I say. "It went well. There was a tiny problem with the caterer at the reception, but we got it fixed and Addison was none the wiser."
"Well, of course you did. You're the best wedding planner in New York," Victoria gushes. "And the best wedding planner in New York needs a break. You know any normal person would take a break before taking on new clients."
"I have four weddings I am planning for people at the moment. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't take a break." I chuckle. "Don't you have something else to do than criticize my work life?"
"In fact, I do. I am meeting up with an attractive man tonight. I don't know who he is yet, but I'll take my pick when I get to the bar," Victoria says. Her antics make me laugh.
"Well, don't forget to make sure he doesn't have a girlfriend. I don't want to have to come pick you up at two in the morning and drive away from some angry girlfriend. She was fast."
"That was one time. I hope she dumped him. Who goes around lying that you don't have a girlfriend when you do?" Victoria rants. "I swore off men for a long time after that."
"Yeah...a whole two weeks," I tease and I can feel her glare through the phone.
"Longest two weeks of my life," Victoria says. "How you've gone without sex for so long is beyond me."
"It hasn't been that long," I say. "Ok, that's a lie," I admit, and she chuckles.
"You have fun being at home with your wine and TV. Meanwhile, I will enjoy the company of some hot guy. Love you, girl."
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," I say before hanging up and shaking my head at her. I turn up the TV and sip the rest of my wine as I drown myself in the world of the Bachelor.
Who needs a man, anyway?