But the woman in Brooke had a sense of what Heather was going through. By Brooke’s estimation, Heather was absolutely ready to be promoted to full-fledged wedding planner, and she expected Alexis would agree.
But Heather needed to know it. She needed to work through the pressure of having a wedding entirely on her shoulders, with no boss to deflect to or follow. It had taken Brooke nearly a dozen weddings before she stopped feeling queasy in the hours leading up to the ceremony, and even now she still got butterflies.
Heather needed to see that she could do it, that she could weather the stress.
And Brooke was absolutely confident that Heather could.
Brooke knew that she, Alexis, and Heather all felt equally passionate about weddings, but she suspected there was something more driving Heather. Something beyond Brooke’s ambition or Alexis’s perfectionism.
Being a wedding planner wasn’t just a job goal for Heather. It was a life goal.
Brooke wound her arm around Heather’s shoulder and squeezed. “So, I know you want to puke right now, but you’re going to have to trust me on this, Fowler. This looks amazing. And this couple is going to have the best day of their life because of you. Now will you please hand over some of those gorgeously wrapped truffles and let me help you?”
Heather took a long breath before blowing it out. “There’s another box by the front door. There might even be an extra or two, because one of the guys who works at the chocolate place thinks I’m cute.”
“Because you are cute,” Brooke said, heading toward the door to grab the box in question. “Is chocolate guy going to be a thing?”
“Oh God no,” Heather said, resuming the process of placing the boxes alongside each plate. “I’m pretty sure he’s, like, twenty.”
“Because you’re so old,” Brooke said sarcastically, hoisting the box onto her hip and heading back toward Heather to begin placing the favors on a nearby table.
“Let’s just say that this kid squeezes in shifts between classes at NYU, and I—” Heather broke off, fiddling unnecessarily with a candle. “College feels like a long time ago for me.”
“You went to college near home?” Brooke asked, shamelessly fishing but doing so in what she hoped was a casual tone. “In Michigan?”
“Yup. Michigan State.”
“Your family’s still there?”
Heather nodded. “My mom.”
Brooke waited for Heather to say more. The other woman wasn’t chatty. Not like Jessie. But neither was she usually so one-word answers. Maybe Alexis was rubbing off on her.
The silence stretched on as the two of them silently resumed the process of placing gold boxes next to gorgeous little squares of ivory card stock embellished with a plain, typewriter-style font that perfectly offset the fussiness of the paper.
They finally reached the end of the room, and both turned to survey the finished setup. Even without the music that would eventually fill the space, and before the hundreds of candles had been lit, it was spectacular.
“You did good,” Brooke said.
Heather gave a small nod, seeming to finally be satisfied with her work. “Thanks for your help.”
“Thanks for letting me tag along.”
Brooke’s client roster was rapidly filling up, but she was still new enough to the New York wedding scene that she didn’t yet have any weddings of her own apart from Maya Tyler’s. As a result, a schedule that had once been nonstop from Friday morning through Sunday evening was a bit sparse.
Giving her far too much time to think.
About him.
“I think you handled it sort of badly,” Heather said, out of nowhere.
Brooke glanced at her. “What?”
Heather gave her a half smile. “You asked me if I thought you handled the Seth thing badly. I was distracted and didn’t respond, but I’m responding now, and it sounds like maybe both of you said things you didn’t entirely mean.”
Brooke sighed as she followed Heather toward the exit. “That’s an understatement.”
Heather glanced at her watch. “The ceremony won’t start for another four hours. Want to grab a late lunch? I could use the opportunity to think about something other than all the things that could go wrong tonight.”
“Absolutely,” Brooke replied.
“Why does melty cheese always taste so good?” Brooke moaned around a bite of perfect sandwich. She and Heather were seated at a bustling little café right by the winery, nomming on delicious paninis stuffed with smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, and arugula.
“Is that how Seth Tyler got into your pants?” Heather asked with an eyebrow wiggle as she twisted the cap off her sparkling water. “By offering up grilled cheese?”
Brooke tapped a fist against her chest to help the bite of sandwich she’d started choking on go down a bit easier. “Going there, are we?”
“I may have been distracted earlier, but I don’t think I missed the fact that you mentioned spending the night. Explain.”
Brooke sighed and picked up the dill pickle that had come as a garnish on her plate, taking a bite even though she didn’t even really like pickles. Stress eating at its finest. “It was just supposed to be a one-night thing. To scratch the itch and all that, you know?”
“And did he?” Heather asked. “Scratch your itch.”