Chapter 344: SS3 01: Fail to Plan, Planning to Fail

"Ms. Hart," the wedding planner called. She bustled over to the lounge room of her office, carrying a portfolio of themes for the big day. "This is our latest compilation. I apologize for how it looks. It's still in the works but we wanted to open all options for you."

Eve sat sideways with one ankle tucked behind the other. For the occasion, she had chosen a rosy pink pencil skirt made of wool and a cream chiffon blouse. Her scarlet hair was swept to one side. It had already grown past her shoulders since she had it cut.

A pearl-crusted hair clip cinched one side of her head. 

She placed her coffee cup back on the saucer before placing both on the table. Then, she browsed the portfolio. Her head nodded as she flipped the pages. "I'm not sure what you mean, Mishta. This looks as wonderful as the others."

Mishta, the wedding planner, smiled and bowed her head. "You're too kind, Ms. Hart."

"I simply give credit where it's due." Eve looked up long enough to wink. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a few bystanders that had been staring from the window. They were a mix of adults, teens and children talking to each other.

Although Eve couldn't hear, she waved her hand at them. 

That was when they started snapping photos.

"Oh!" Mishta gasped. She glanced over her shoulder and gestured to the blinds. "Alecia, didn't I tell you to close the windows because we have a VIP guest?"

She turned back to Eve as Alecia rolled down the blinds. "I'm so sorry about that, Ms. Hart."

Eve brushed off the matter with a wave of her hand. "It's quite alright. I'm used to it."

"Ah, the life of a celebrity…" Andie thought out loud from across the table. She held another portfolio, marking her suggestions with sticky notes. "And a soon-to-be socialite. Aunt Avery was right. Everyone would be looking at you once the press announced your engagement. They're all waiting for the grand wedding of the century."

"I can't tell if you're jealous or you're bragging that your wedding will be small," Eve said. Anyone who knew her would know she wanted a private wedding. Her anxiety over the big day already rose up just from seeing the guest list.

Was it necessary to have that many people? She skimmed through the new portfolio and stopped at one page that had purple as the main color. Not only did it look simple enough but it also spoke volumes.

"Trust me, Eve," Avery spoke up from the other side of the couch Andie sat on. The side of her portfolio practically had sticky notes on every page. "One day, you will look back to your wedding photos and remember how much of a fairy tale kind of night it was. You'll hardly believe it was real though you were there."

Mishta cleared her throat. She stood behind the left armrest of the sofa Eve used. "May I ask where you plan to have the wedding? A specific church perhaps? I can look into nearby venues."

Andie snapped her head towards the wedding planner. "What about a beach wedding?"

Eve choked on her own spit. Her ears grew hot. "I-I don't think outdoors is my type of wedding."

"Then, what about a wedding under a giant tent?" Avery suggested.

"With the amount of guests we have?" Eve blinked. "I don't think it would be worth it. Plus I'd feel more secure knowing it wasn't about to collapse in case of a storm."

This was a strange experience. Eve knew she had memories of the times she dreamed of her ideal wedding. But, now when it mattered most, they had vanished from her head. 

Mishta raised her hand. "Does the groom have any ideas?"

Eve pressed her lips together. "The courthouse."

"The groom is banned from suggesting, Mishta. Remember that from now on." Avery frowned and rolled her violet eyes. "Men. They only think about getting the wedding over and done with. They don't think about the people who want to celebrate this occasion with them or the bride who most of the time has pictured this special day all her life."

Andie and Eve exchanged looks. The latter had actually agreed with Ambryan about the courthouse idea. Hell, they even joked about eloping instead. The fantasies were pretty in their heads—except the horror of Avery's wrath squashed those ideas in one swing.

Mishta gulped. "I will note that down, Mrs. Hathaway."

"Good." Avery closed the portfolio and smiled in her direction. "Do you perhaps have books that contain pictures of wedding dresses?"

Later that day, Ambryan had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water when he heard the door slam shut. He walked out to see what the commotion was about. His fiancé marched into the penthouse, her heels clacking on the floor. A series of mutters flowed out of her lips.

Eve finally looked up when she reached the living room.

Ambryan raised his eyebrows.

"I want to call off the wedding," Eve declared. She stomped towards the sofa. The cats leaped out of her way as she collapsed on the cushions. "This has to be more stressful than anything I've done so far. How do people decide on what to do for their weddings?"

"That's what wedding planners are for," Ambryan replied. He joined her on the couch, lifting her legs up so he could sit down. Then, he placed them over his lap. "Did mother give you a hard time?"

"She's the one contributing the most. She has many ideas but… I need to narrow things down before making a choice." Eve groaned and threw her hands in the air. "But then! Nothing in what we've seen so far made me want to get married."

"If that's what you're looking for, then you only have to look at me."

She chucked a throw pillow in his direction. 

Ambryan caught it, a shameless smirk on his lips. "What about a wedding at Zehell Castle?"

"But we already did that." Eve sat up abruptly. A deep scowl creased her brows. "You should have saved that idea for the wedding. That way we wouldn't be in this dilemma."

"I hadn't thought about marrying you then," Ambryan defended. He twirled the throw pillow between his hands. Emails waited for him in his home office but he didn't care. It was a long day without his fiancé.

He needed her presence in order to recharge first.

Eve leaned forward, propping her chin on his shoulder. He glanced down to look at her. "When did you think about marrying me then?"

Ambryan sat still. His watch ticked as the seconds passed by.

.

.

.

.

.

"That's confidential information."

She stole the pillow from him and hit him in the chest. "Oh, come on. Tell me. Maybe I can get some inspiration from it like… the place where you thought about it."

Ambryan reclined on the backrest of the couch. He gazed up at the ceiling. 

The idea of marriage teased him many times. It could be a wedding dress shop he spotted while stuck on a red light. It could be an advertisement for wedding photos that flashed on a billboard he could see from his office window. It could also be a couple taking pre-nuptial photos at a restaurant he held a meeting.

There were too many to mention once he explored those days.

But, if he were to share when was the exact time he wanted to propose… 

It would have to be…

"I can't believe you chose a girl who uses things without permission," Madame Isabelle scolded over her shoulder, climbing down the stairs as fast as she could. "Also, where are her manners? Shouldn't she greet me first? Of all the—"

She stopped and whispered profanities instead.

Ambryan sighed but followed his mom to the studio room. The closer they got, the more familiar the music became. He had heard many compositions during his stay in this studio. Madame Isabelle had a preferred playlist for her lessons.

This one, however…, left a lasting impression.

He took the last step in order to peek inside the studio. Seeing Eve dance brought him years back—to the time they had rehearsed this for the town festival. Madame Isabelle had booked a slot for a ballet performance. To attract a large crowd, she had convinced him to participate.

Eve had taken it seriously from day one while he reluctantly did his part. His mom smacked his arm every time. He didn't mind because he thought she'd eventually give up and let him go.

That was until Eve finally spoke up.

"If you're just here to ruin things, why not just run away from rehearsal?" She sneered in her tutu, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need a selfish kid who is too much of a coward to perform ballet in front of people."

"I'm no coward!"

He heard her tongue click. "Then, prove it."

Ambryan shook his head. She sounded annoying enough to provoke him. Thinking back on it now, he really was a selfish coward. His violet eyes focused on the dancer before him. A serene expression painted over her face but concentration flared in her brown eyes.

That look had never changed—whether as a young ballerina, or as a committed secretary or as an aspiring model. The same could be said about her smile. It had that magnetic pull he didn't experience with anyone else—

"Do you still remember what happens in this dance or should I hit you with my cane to trigger your memory?" Madame Isabelle asked. She raised her cane just in case.

Not needing to be told twice, Ambryan silently walked into the room. He hurried a little when Eve was about to make her dip. He held her arms from behind and supported her. Then, he moved his hands to her waist as she spun around to face him.

Time had slowed down for him. Her round eyes widened by a fraction—another expression he grew to love. He stepped forward and...

He never wanted to let go again.