The Wedding Planner
Etchea
“Band, check. Ceremony and reception venues, check. Lighting and décor, check. Transportation from the ceremony venue to the reception venue has been scheduled. Your officiant has been booked. Niall, I trust you’ve chosen your suit as well as the suits for your groomsmen. Jade, have you found a dress yet?”
“Yes. Months ago,” Jade answered, flashing a white smile.
“Ah, well, I haven’t exactly found a suit yet, no,” Niall said, and I wasn’t sure whether I should face palm or breathe a sigh of relief at this influx of information. “I haven’t really even started looking. It entirely slipped my mind. Isla, is there any way you could set up an appointment for me somewhere? I wouldn’t even know where to look…”
“You’re joking,” Jade glared at her husband to me, “How did our wedding slip your mind?”
“I’ve been busy with work. There’s still plenty of time—”
“I work a busier job than you and I’ve accomplished a hell of a lot more.”
“Wow. Okay.”
Niall Horan. Aged twenty-three. Famous musician. Childhood best friend of mine that I had unintentionally fallen absolutely head over heels in love with. I wasn’t entirely sure why, or what made him so damn special. Really, I’ve spent nights awake thinking about it, trying to crack the code. It wasn’t that he was the first friend I’d made when I moved to Ireland from the United States at age ten. It wasn’t that he was my first kiss at age twelve. It wasn’t that he’d beaten up Devon Murray in the tenth grade for bragging about taking my virginity. It wasn’t when when I made the move to Los Angeles with him when he finally made it big years ago and, quote, “wanted his best friend by his side.” No, it was before all of that. Whatever it was, it happened the day that I met him.
And then there was Jade Howell. Also aged twenty-three. Victoria’s Secret angel. Bridezilla. Stereotypical. I knew the day that Niall had introduced me to her that she wasn’t right for him; I had known it deep in my bones. I knew all along, selfish as it was, that it should have been me. I didn’t even want to plan this wedding but, well, I planned weddings for a living and Niall was my best friend so it was only fitting, and I couldn’t necessarily object when he asked.
Yet there I was, beating myself up over something that was entirely out of my control, wondering why somebody like him was engaged to marry somebody like her. Granted she had the money, the looks, and quite possibly the power, but what did that matter any? Then again, I’d hardly had a real relationship in my entire life, so what did I know about the politics of one? Maybe this was what it was supposed to be like. Maybe they really were perfect for each other.
Or maybe not.
“Niall is right,” I finally said, interrupting the bickering. “There is still plenty of time to find the suits. We have four months. I’ll set up some appointments at a few places and have him fitted in whatever he so chooses. They’ll take measurements and a tailor will do the alterations. It should only take two weeks maximum, but we may have to rush order the suits for your groomsmen. There’s no use in getting all frazzled about it when you two could be focusing your energy on tasks more deserving of your attention—like, for example, flowers, catering, the cake… which reminds me, Jade, I managed to get you in for a cake testing at Etchea in downtown Los Angeles, no thanks to an immense amount of bribery on my behalf. They were booked for months but I landed you an appointment on the fifteenth.”
“The fifteenth of this month? In two weeks?” Jade asked.
“That’s the one. It’s the only one for the next—”
“Well, that’s going to be an issue, then,” Jade interjected, but I wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t allowed me to finish my sentence, “I’ll be flying to Paris to shoot a Ralph Lauren campaign on the fourteenth. You’ll have to call and reschedule. Try to see if you can get something for the twenty-second. I’ll be back by then.”
“They are all booked up,” Niall said, folding his arms across his chest as he watched his wife-to-be, “You’d have known that if you let Isla finish her sentence in the first place. We’ll either have to wait our turn like everybody else or go with a different bakery.”
“I would rather die.”
Go for it.
“Then cancel the shoot! I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Cancel Ralph Lauren? Never in a million years,” Jade said, grabbing her purse from its place on my desk and standing up, “I have to get going now. I have a FaceTime meeting with Marc Jacobs’s assistant that I can’t miss. Isla, make some phone calls to the bakery. See what you can do. Explain the situation to them. I’m sure it’s possible—all you need is a little perseverance. I’ll check in later. Ta,” she said, and kissed Niall on the cheek and walked out before giving me the chance to protest—to explain to her that they simply can’t prioritize her over people who have been booked for months because of who she is.
Niall exhaled and I glanced around, my eyebrows raised. This was nothing new, of course, more of a weekly occurrence. If Jade didn’t have a fit at least once a week, you were doing something wrong. “So,” he said, offering me a smile, “Got any backups in mind?”
“I’ve got a few, of course,” I nodded, sitting back down in my seat as I looked at my best friend, biting my tongue, “Any good wedding planner comes prepared with a few backups on hand. I felt I shouldn’t suggest a backup lest I want to deal with the wrath that is Jade Howell.”
“She is a right nightmare,” Niall murmured, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You know, she hasn’t made it easy on me, Isla. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices for her. I wanted to get married right in Mullingar but we’re getting married here in Los Angeles. I wanted a small and private wedding with family and friends and she’s—did you know she fucking sent out invitations to the entire Kardashian family? I mean, I can understand her wanting to invite Kendall. They work together. But her entire family seems a bit excessive. So, not only will I not be able to get married in my hometown—no, not even in the same country—but I’ll have paparazzi beating down the doors to get pictures because of high-profile guests.”
I wanted nothing more in that moment then to ask him why—why he was wasting his time in going through with this marriage if his heart wasn’t fully in it. I fought the urge to ask him to forget about this charade and marry me right then and there so he could have the wedding that he wanted—that we both wanted. Instead, I nodded.
“She is what we in the business call a Bridezilla.”
“Bridezilla,” Niall nodded, “I like that, I.”
“Yes. Months ago,” Jade answered, flashing a white smile.
“Ah, well, I haven’t exactly found a suit yet, no,” Niall said, and I wasn’t sure whether I should face palm or breathe a sigh of relief at this influx of information. “I haven’t really even started looking. It entirely slipped my mind. Isla, is there any way you could set up an appointment for me somewhere? I wouldn’t even know where to look…”
“You’re joking,” Jade glared at her husband to me, “How did our wedding slip your mind?”
“I’ve been busy with work. There’s still plenty of time—”
“I work a busier job than you and I’ve accomplished a hell of a lot more.”
“Wow. Okay.”
Niall Horan. Aged twenty-three. Famous musician. Childhood best friend of mine that I had unintentionally fallen absolutely head over heels in love with. I wasn’t entirely sure why, or what made him so damn special. Really, I’ve spent nights awake thinking about it, trying to crack the code. It wasn’t that he was the first friend I’d made when I moved to Ireland from the United States at age ten. It wasn’t that he was my first kiss at age twelve. It wasn’t that he’d beaten up Devon Murray in the tenth grade for bragging about taking my virginity. It wasn’t when when I made the move to Los Angeles with him when he finally made it big years ago and, quote, “wanted his best friend by his side.” No, it was before all of that. Whatever it was, it happened the day that I met him.
And then there was Jade Howell. Also aged twenty-three. Victoria’s Secret angel. Bridezilla. Stereotypical. I knew the day that Niall had introduced me to her that she wasn’t right for him; I had known it deep in my bones. I knew all along, selfish as it was, that it should have been me. I didn’t even want to plan this wedding but, well, I planned weddings for a living and Niall was my best friend so it was only fitting, and I couldn’t necessarily object when he asked.
Yet there I was, beating myself up over something that was entirely out of my control, wondering why somebody like him was engaged to marry somebody like her. Granted she had the money, the looks, and quite possibly the power, but what did that matter any? Then again, I’d hardly had a real relationship in my entire life, so what did I know about the politics of one? Maybe this was what it was supposed to be like. Maybe they really were perfect for each other.
Or maybe not.
“Niall is right,” I finally said, interrupting the bickering. “There is still plenty of time to find the suits. We have four months. I’ll set up some appointments at a few places and have him fitted in whatever he so chooses. They’ll take measurements and a tailor will do the alterations. It should only take two weeks maximum, but we may have to rush order the suits for your groomsmen. There’s no use in getting all frazzled about it when you two could be focusing your energy on tasks more deserving of your attention—like, for example, flowers, catering, the cake… which reminds me, Jade, I managed to get you in for a cake testing at Etchea in downtown Los Angeles, no thanks to an immense amount of bribery on my behalf. They were booked for months but I landed you an appointment on the fifteenth.”
“The fifteenth of this month? In two weeks?” Jade asked.
“That’s the one. It’s the only one for the next—”
“Well, that’s going to be an issue, then,” Jade interjected, but I wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t allowed me to finish my sentence, “I’ll be flying to Paris to shoot a Ralph Lauren campaign on the fourteenth. You’ll have to call and reschedule. Try to see if you can get something for the twenty-second. I’ll be back by then.”
“They are all booked up,” Niall said, folding his arms across his chest as he watched his wife-to-be, “You’d have known that if you let Isla finish her sentence in the first place. We’ll either have to wait our turn like everybody else or go with a different bakery.”
“I would rather die.”
Go for it.
“Then cancel the shoot! I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Cancel Ralph Lauren? Never in a million years,” Jade said, grabbing her purse from its place on my desk and standing up, “I have to get going now. I have a FaceTime meeting with Marc Jacobs’s assistant that I can’t miss. Isla, make some phone calls to the bakery. See what you can do. Explain the situation to them. I’m sure it’s possible—all you need is a little perseverance. I’ll check in later. Ta,” she said, and kissed Niall on the cheek and walked out before giving me the chance to protest—to explain to her that they simply can’t prioritize her over people who have been booked for months because of who she is.
Niall exhaled and I glanced around, my eyebrows raised. This was nothing new, of course, more of a weekly occurrence. If Jade didn’t have a fit at least once a week, you were doing something wrong. “So,” he said, offering me a smile, “Got any backups in mind?”
“I’ve got a few, of course,” I nodded, sitting back down in my seat as I looked at my best friend, biting my tongue, “Any good wedding planner comes prepared with a few backups on hand. I felt I shouldn’t suggest a backup lest I want to deal with the wrath that is Jade Howell.”
“She is a right nightmare,” Niall murmured, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You know, she hasn’t made it easy on me, Isla. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices for her. I wanted to get married right in Mullingar but we’re getting married here in Los Angeles. I wanted a small and private wedding with family and friends and she’s—did you know she fucking sent out invitations to the entire Kardashian family? I mean, I can understand her wanting to invite Kendall. They work together. But her entire family seems a bit excessive. So, not only will I not be able to get married in my hometown—no, not even in the same country—but I’ll have paparazzi beating down the doors to get pictures because of high-profile guests.”
I wanted nothing more in that moment then to ask him why—why he was wasting his time in going through with this marriage if his heart wasn’t fully in it. I fought the urge to ask him to forget about this charade and marry me right then and there so he could have the wedding that he wanted—that we both wanted. Instead, I nodded.
“She is what we in the business call a Bridezilla.”
“Bridezilla,” Niall nodded, “I like that, I.”