True Companion By bellamarie117.pdf

True Companion By bellamarie117

Chapter 1: The Set Up

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"Isabella, the caterer says they can't set up the hors d'oeuvres buffet where it is

on the diagram because there won't be enough room for traffic."

"Isabella, there aren't enough chairs at table twelve and the rental guys took all

the extras with them."

"Isabella, weren't the photo booth people supposed to get here at ten to start

setting up? I haven't seen them yet and it's almost eleven."

Isabella, Isabella, Isabella.

Every weekend it was the same chorus. The words varied from time to time but

the tune remained the same. In my head it always sounded like the mice from

Cinderella, except instead of telling me to mop the floors and do the dishes, they

wanted me to find a Chuppa at the last minute or tie four hundred chair sashes

into perfectly symmetrical bows. Ridiculous, demanding mice.

But those crazy tasks were exactly why brides hired me, why I had a waiting list

for practically every Saturday from April until October.

Most days, I loved my job and the challenges that came with it, but from time to

time I just wanted someone else to take charge and solve one of the many

"wedding disasters" that got tossed at my feet. Wasn't that why I hired three

assistants? Apparently they'd forgotten to take their competency pills that

morning.

Deep breath, Bella. Keep calm and for God's sake do not roll your eyes.

Why did I let the rental people take the extra chairs with them? Stupid rookie

mistake. I knew better-always overestimate your numbers. Better to be

overstocked than short.

Internally knocking my head against a wall, I glanced around the ballroom,

soaking in the progress that would transform the empty space into a decadent

wedding reception that would knock the heels off the pickiest bride. Or so I

hoped. Lauren was definitely a picky bride. She'd been stepping on my toes over

every detail for months, snidely informing me that everything had better be

perfect or she'd know.

Was it too much to ask that just one wedding went off without a hitch?

Whining to the powers that be wasn't going to get me anywhere. I blew out a

breath and jumped into action.

"Kate, Eric's number is in your packet, shoot him a text and see what's going on.

Carmen, pull one of the high top tables to the other side of the hall. It'll free up

some space for the caterers. Angela, see if you can scrounge up a folding chair or

something. We'll try and squeeze a cover over it and switch out with a chair from

one of the back tables. Lauren will never know the difference."

When my trio of assistants scattered to complete their various assignments, I

took a moment to track down my emergency kit and pop an aspirin. Thinking

ahead, I dug out a few coins to nab a soda from the vending machine down the

hall. Caffeine would be necessary today and I hadn't had time to grab my typical

Starbucks. At ten forty five in the morning, I'd already been on the go for close to

three hours and we were only getting started. By my watch, I had another solid

fourteen to go. If I was lucky, my feet wouldn't start punishing me for another

eight.

Such is the glamorous life of Isabella Swan, wedding coordinator.

When I was a little girl, I fell in love with weddings. I attended my first when I

was five as a flower girl for one of my mom's best friends and ever since, I've

been a little obsessed. Everything about them was so magical to me-the flowers,

the invitations, the dresses, the music. Most of all, I loved the happily ever after.

I've always been a fan of fairy tales, sighing over the stories my mother read to

me each night and dreaming of true love in my canopy princess bed. But they

weren't just stories to me. I knew that true love was real because I had the best

example of a happily ever after right in my very own home. My parents were

madly in love, rarely fought, always flirted. They were devoted to each other.

They were happy. Every time I caught them cuddling or kissing or just smiling

together with such affection in their eyes, I'd dream about the day I'd find that

kind of love. The kind that lasts forever.

For a long time, I thought I'd found it.

I met Jasper Whitlock in high school when he and his twin sister transferred from

out of state in the middle of our freshman year. He sat next to me in history class

that semester and was always asking to borrow my notes even though I saw him

scribbling down every word Mr. Banner droned at us. Two weeks later he started

walking me to my locker after class, carrying my books and kissing me on the

cheek before rushing off to the other side of the school so he wouldn't be late for

chemistry.

He asked me to the spring formal and kissed me in the cab of his pick-up truck

before escorting me into the garishly decorated gym. From that day on, we were

inseparable. Not only was he my boyfriend, but he was my best friend. He made

me laugh and held me when I cried. In the fall of our senior year, my entire world

shattered. My mom was killed in a car accident driving home one night during a

bad storm. When it felt like everything was falling apart, Jasper was my strength.

He was my first in pretty much every way-first kiss, first love, first time. First

husband.

When he proposed on New Year's Eve during our junior year of college, Jasper

and I had already been together for six years. There wasn't an ounce of

hesitation in my voice when I told him yes and threw my arms around his neck,

covering his face in kisses and grinning like a fool. Jasper was my happily ever

after.

We decided not to rush. We were already living together so it seemed like just a

technicality in our minds. Instead, we concentrated on finishing up school and

graduating while we, well, I, planned and saved for our dream wedding.

Right out of undergrad, I was offered a job with an event center I'd interned with

over summer breaks, working as one of their in-house coordinators. While there

were other events held at the center-conferences, corporate dinners, holiday

parties, I worked mostly with weddings and I couldn't have been happier. I was

so excited to gain experience in the field while saving up for my chance to pursue

my dream of starting my own planning business. With Jasper following his own

dreams of working toward his master's degree in hopes of becoming a history

professor, I thought we had it made.

I was a calm bride, slowly but surely knocking things off our checklist-booking the

best photographer we could afford, finding an amazing gown, hand-assembling

and addressing invitations that were works of art (in my opinion). Finally, on a

beautiful June afternoon after a two and a half year engagement, I walked down

the aisle in my beautiful white dress to say 'I do' to my handsome groom.

When my perfect day was over, I was more than ready to settle in to a life of

wedded bliss with my Prince Charming. And at first, that's what it was: bliss.

Things were good with us, easy and comfortable. We agreed on practically

everything; our plans for the future meshed seamlessly. He was sweet to me,

surprising me at work with flowers for no reason at all or cooking me dinner after

particularly exhausting days at work. He was supportive of my dreams,

encouraging me to break out on my own and start my own company. He spent

countless hours helping me set up my website and filling out the countless forms

that came with starting and running a small business. He calmed my nerves when

I wasn't sure I could do it.

But then, somehow, it wasn't blissful and easy any more. It was hard.

Jasper's grueling schedule didn't leave a lot of time for him to hold down a job, so

at my insistence, he concentrated on school and I found myself acting as the

sole-supporter of the household. I ended up getting a second job as a waitress at

a local pub to offset some of our bills but it still seemed like money was always

tight. Between that and the growing number of weddings I was taking on, it felt

like I was constantly on my feet, running around, trying not to let anyone down.

It was exhausting but I thought it was worth it. I had Jasper, I had my business,

I was living my dreams. And Jasper wouldn't be in school for very long, soon

enough he'd be working, too and things wouldn't be so crazy.

When he graduated, it was a relief. When he found a job shortly after, I was

thrilled. Finally, things were going to get easier.

Except they didn't. Jasper worked all the time, trying to establish himself as a

professor. I worked all the time, trying to keep my fledgling business in the black.

And since Jasper's school loans were starting to come in, I still had to keep my

job at the pub.

But still, I always thought we were just going through a rough spot, that things

would get better. He was still my best friend and the love of my life.

Or so I thought.

I came home one evening after running a rehearsal for that upcoming weekend

to find Jasper sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands.

When he looked up at me, there was so much pain in those gorgeous eyes. He

looked haunted. I immediately thought something terrible had happened, maybe

to Rose or one of his parents, or even Charlie. But when he opened his mouth to

speak, it was so much worse than I could have imagined.

Divorce. Seemingly out of nowhere, my prince charming was asking me for a

divorce.

He sat there at that table where we'd sat together countless times before and he

told me that he loved me but it wasn't enough. With tears silently streaming

down his cheeks and the heartbreak clear in his eyes, he told me that he'd met

someone else and while nothing had happened, he didn't think it was fair to any

of us for him to stay with me, pretending it was enough when he knew there was

the potential for so much more.

Alice was her name, and even then, I could see a light in his eyes that was never

there for me. I believed him when he said he wasn't cheating on me. Jasper

wasn't that kind of guy and I trusted him completely. Still, I could see that he

wanted something to happen and all that was standing in his way was our

marriage.

So I didn't fight him on it, despite how much it killed me to sign my name to

those cold, impersonal papers that spelled out the end of our marriage. What

would have been the point? As much as the thought of divorce crushed me, it

hurt even more to think about spending the rest of my life with a man who didn't

love me the way I deserved, the way I'd always dreamed I'd be loved.

Twenty-five years old and divorced. Never in my entire life did I imagine I'd find

myself in that position. My friends all told me to keep an open mind, that maybe

this was a good thing and I'd find someone even better who would love me

completely. I smiled and said what they wanted to hear, that I still had hope, that

I still believed in happily ever afters. But deep down, I wasn't quite so confident.

Over a year later, I still didn't know if I had it in my heart to try again.

So I watched from the end of the aisle as all my couples said their vows and

made promises to love each other forever, and at the end of the day, I went

home to my empty apartment and soaked my aching feet, wishing I didn't feel so

cynical.

A buzzing in the pocket of my dress pulled me out of my thoughts and had me

shaking off the melancholy that always came with thoughts of Jasper.

You've got a job to do, Bella. Focus.

"Hi there, beautiful bride," I greeted the star of the day with as much enthusiasm

as I could muster. "How's everything going at the salon?"

Apparently things weren't going well at all. The stylist that Lauren decided on

after torturing eight different candidates (bringing five of them to tears in the

process) had come down with a nasty stomach bug that prevented her from

coming in to work her magic on those golden curls. The salon was doing

everything they could-providing free champagne for the entire party as well as

offering up one of their other top stylists at no charge, but Lauren was in full on

melt-down mode.

After some swift instructions to my team, I scurried out to my SUV and dashed

over to the salon as quickly as I could, praying the entire time that Lauren hadn't

assaulted someone.

Over the six years I'd been in the business of coordinating weddings, I'd run into

my fair share of characters. Emotional brides, sleazy grooms, catty mothers,

jealous sisters— weddings just tend to bring out the drama in people. Overall, my

brides were sweet-a little stressed out from time to time trying to get everything

together, but mostly just excited.

Lauren Mallory, however, was in a class of her own. The woman was spoiled

rotten. Between her father and her fiancé, someone was always doting on her,

calling her princess and seeing that her every need was met. Which was fine

except that her needs seemed to be a twelve carat diamond tiara to wear with

her eight-thousand dollar designer gown and chocolates flown in from Switzerland

to serve to her five-hundred-and-eighty-six wedding guests among other things.

Lauren was demanding, bitchy, and downright mean when she didn't get her

way. I hesitated to call any of my brides a Bridezilla, but if there was ever going

to be one I'd break that rule for, it was Lauren.

Just get through today and then you'll never have to think of her again.

The commission alone would cover my rent for the next six months so I tried not

to be bitter over the fact that she'd likely 'forget' to tip me despite how above and

beyond I'd already gone for her in the eight months I'd been slaving over her

wedding. When I booked a new client, I was always aware that I might run up

against requests that I'd never thought of before. That was part of the

excitement, the challenge. Every wedding was different. But interviewing beefy

male strippers to find one willing to pose as a cop, pull over the party bus at her

bachelorette party, cuff the bride to a pole and grind his g-string in her face was

not something I'd ever imagine I'd have to do.

One more day. One more day, I chanted to myself as I hopped out of my car and

approached the salon.

When I stepped through the door of the upscale salon, it was all I could do to

keep from wincing. The lovely bride was throwing a tantrum to rival a shrieking

three year old. Shrill was really the only way to describe it and I was more than a

little surprised none of the glass mirrors lining the walls had cracked yet.

Maybe it was only one more day, but the woman was going to torture me every

second, I just knew it.

I threw an apologetic glance toward the salon staff cowering by the front desk

and followed the screams back to the action. Lauren was pacing between empty

salon chairs, yelling at anyone who came within two steps of her. Nearby, her

hoard of bridesmaids, as well as her mother, grandmother, and soon-to-be-

mother-in-law stood by in various stages of progress. Some wore curlers, some

had half-assembled updos, some still had their hair thrown back in messy

ponytails. Not a single one of them was done and they were supposed to be at

the church, dressed and ready, in half an hour.

First things first. Get everyone back on task, then deal with the explosion that is

Lauren.

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