The Vows We Fake

Rosewater. Honeysuckle. Old money. Face to face with the gates that led into Bellmare Estate, those are the scents that welcomed me. The iron gates groaned open, leading to a vault of memories I had tried so hard to suppress.

I stepped through the gates anyway.

“Damn,” Leah, my assistant, whistled. Her baby blue eyes widened in amazement. “Damn! Some people are rich!”

Rich didn’t cover it. The estate was magnificent, a dream carved into the hills. There were white stone archways framed by climbing jasmine, a beautiful courtyard that opened into a blue, shining lake. Despite the beauty, the estate had the kind of silence that pulled at my heart.

Leah and I stared up at the grand glass hall that sat at the center of the venue. The sun was out, light from that majestic body filtering through the trees and glinting off the fountains.

“It’s sunny and bright,” Leah noted. Her tone was sing-song. Her blouse and pants and tight bun were her biggest hindrances; she could’ve burst into song and danced along the path. “The trees are singing. Can you hear them? The air smells wonderful. Such a lovely day for a wedding!”

“It is.”

Lovely day for a wedding, cruel day to be brought here for this wedding.

Bellmare estate had not changed in the five years since I had been here. Same old lawns. Same old chapel. Same old scent. I had seen it before. I had imagined it a hundred ways. But never like this.

This was the venue we had once dreamed of, me and Zane. The one I had circled in bridal magazines. The one I had whispered about in nights while wrapped up in his arms. The one I had fantasized so much about.

Ignorance is bliss, and so is amnesia. For if I could forget, I would. But right now, my memory is as clear as ever, my imagination even clearer. I see myself as a bright eyed fiancée, eyes wide open as I take in the scenery for the first time. The rays from the sun make my caramel skin glow. I’m hand in hand with my lover, dark fingers intertwined in fair ones. His eyes glint at me as he smiles. I dream of being shrouded in white silk and smiling up at him. We share a kiss near the fountain.

Leah may know what happened between Zane and me five years ago, but she has no idea what Bellmare Estste really means to me.

She side-eyed me. “Are you okay?” Leah asked.

“Perfect,” I replied.

“You sure? Your portfolio is…”

I glanced down to the portfolio in my left hand. I turned it around, right side up, cleverly hiding my fingers behind it. I hoped Leah won’t notice that they were trembling. “I’m a bit nervous,” I admitted. “But it’s just a wedding.”

It wasn’t just a wedding.

My stomach had been in knots since the offer first came. I had planned luxury weddings before, but this one felt different. The premise was anxiety inducing. The contract had arrived anonymously. High profile wedding. No in-person meetings until after the contract was signed. No names. Just an outrageous offer (triple the pay) and one stipulation: total discretion. The contract had a stern warning: do not ask questions.

The only thing I knew was this venue, which was also where I would meet with of the client to talk things over with because I needed clarity on the contract. Bellmare Estate, the same venue that I had picked five years ago for my wedding.

And now, here I was. Not as a bride. Not even part of the guest list.

As a wedding planner.

Life must be a cruel joke. It had to be a coincidence. There was no way…

“Amara, please hasten up. I can’t wait to see the inside. Or meet the client. Or the couple. This is so exciting!

Leah’s voice brought me back to reality. Perhaps dreams of the pat still clung to me like cheap perfume. I was dragging my suitcase behind me like a weight I wasn’t quite fond of, walking slower than I was supposed to. My fingers were shaking. I hoped Leah didn’t notice. Thank heavens I wore flats. Couldn’t trust my legs to move.

My heart was beating inside my cream blouse. I was reviewing the facts over again. Anonymous client. No negotiations. First meeting at the venue itself.

I should have said no.

But he paid triple the normal price upfront. And I had loads of debt to clear.

We crossed through the courtyard, the click of Leah’s heels echoing across the marble. A middle-aged, salt-and-pepper haired man in a grey suit approached us.

“Ms. Ibe,” he greeted stiffly. He didn’t acknowledge Leah. “I’m Mr. Wade. I manage client interests on behalf of the groom.”

I extended my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He didn’t take it.

Leah brows shot up to her hairline.

“Follow me,” Mr. Wade said, already turning on his heel. “My client is waiting for you.”

“The groom is here?” I was confused. “I’d assumed he wouldn’t be here for the first meeting.”

“You wouldn’t want him to be part of planning his own wedding?”

I narrow my eyes slightly at his arrogant tone. After all, the contract stated that neither the groom nor the bride would be around for the first meeting.

When Mr. Wade was well ahead of us, Leah whispered, “He seems like the kind of person who would triple your pay and act like he’s doing you a favor.”

I kept silent and I squared my shoulders. Best to avoid confrontation, but I won’t let anyone step on my toes.

The double doors of the main building creaked as Mr. Wade pushed them open. And there he was.

The groom.

Tall, really tall, too sharply dressed for someone who once loved to dance barefoot in my kitchen. A charcoal suit clung to his body. His posture was stiff. He was examining the floral samples laid out on the table, so his back was to me. The sunlight cut across his silhouette.

I knew that silhouette, hell, I knew him. He didn’t even have to turn for me to know it was him.

I felt the world tilt beneath my feet.