The Vows We Never Chose

Bellmare Estate reminded me of Zane.

Rosewater. Honeysuckle. Old memories. Face to face with the gates that led into the 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, memories of Zane and I engaged with dreams of getting married in this same estate. Wedding dress shopping with Rosa, my ex-best friend. Rehearsing our vows, our dance.

I let out a breath and stepped through the gates anyway.

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

Rich didn’t cover it. Bellmare 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. It had not changed in the five years since I had been here. It was the venue we had once dreamed of for our wedding, 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.

Despite the beauty, the estate had the kind of silence that pulled at my heart.

My sober thoughts must’ve been evident in my expression, for Leah side-eyed me. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Perfect,” I replied. The lie was easy.

“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; 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.

It had to be a coincidence, because there was no way…

My heart was beating rapidly 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 the client 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 floor.  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.