CHAPTER THREE
1117 Words
CHAPTER THREE
The Office Storm (Continued)
Lila stood in the doorway of Hart & Confetti, breathing fast, trying her best not to scream into the cushion of a chair she’d bought second-hand from a dentist’s office. Her tiny planning studio was a disaster zone. Paper scraps littered the floor like confetti from a party she clearly wasn’t invited to. The printer blinked at her in judgment. Her planner—a violently pink notebook with the phrase “You Got This!”—was lying face down like even it couldn’t bear to watch what was happening.
She glanced at her buzzing phone for the fifth time in two minutes.
Another voicemail. Another missed call.
Her heart thumped like someone was bouncing a basketball in her chest.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, pacing tight circles. “Okay. Lila. Deep breath. I can fix this.”
She inhaled—long, slow, and totally ineffective.
Her inner voice screamed anyway.
Two weddings.
Two couples.
One business.
ZERO invitations in the correct envelopes.
Her forehead dropped to her desk with a thud.
That’s when she heard the knock.
Three firm, confident taps.
Lila froze.
No client had an appointment this morning—she’d blocked the entire day to prepare for venue walkthroughs. Her stomach twisted into a pretzel.
Another knock. Harder this time.
She straightened, smoothed her shirt—which was still inside out, fantastic—and forced her most professional smile as she opened the door.
“Hello, welcome to—oh.”
Her smile withered like a neglected houseplant.
Standing in the hallway was Seraphina Bloom, the worst possible person to witness Lila’s unraveling.
Seraphina was the city’s most famous wedding planner—at least according to her own website, five magazine covers, and her aggressively glowing social media presence. Everything about her sparkled: her designer heels, her sleek black blazer, her perfectly curled auburn hair that looked like it had been sculpted by angels. Even her clipboard shone like it had been polished.
“Lila Hart,” Seraphina said, voice smooth as butter—and twice as smug. “I heard there was… trouble.”
Lila blinked. “Trouble?”
“Yes,” Seraphina said, stepping inside uninvited. “Distress. Panic. Guests calling all over town. Two wedding parties experiencing mass confusion.” She widened her eyes theatrically. “And your name is on every invitation.”
Lila wanted to melt into the floor. Or crawl under her desk. Or be hit by a rogue bouquet.
“Thanks for stopping by, but I’m actually in the middle of—”
“A crisis?” Seraphina finished for her. “Yes. I figured.”
She examined the chaotic office with a dramatic sigh. “Oh dear. It’s even worse than I imagined.”
Lila clenched her jaw. “Do you… need something, Seraphina?”
“Need?” Seraphina blinked, offended. “Oh no, sweetheart. I came to help.”
Four alarm bells went off in Lila’s head. Seraphina Bloom didn’t “help.” Seraphina Bloom swooped into disasters like a glittering vulture, snapping pictures for her online portfolio before pecking the competition into dust.
Lila folded her arms. “I don’t need help.”
“Really?” Seraphina gave her a pitying look—head tilt, soft voice, the whole performance. “Because Isabelle Reed left me a voicemail. Apparently, she’s… ah, what was her phrasing? ‘Deeply alarmed.’”
Lila’s stomach dropped.
“And Maya Rossi,” Seraphina added. “She messaged me to ask if I had availability next month in case her planner”—she gestured around the room—“crumbled under pressure.”
Lila’s breath hitched. “They contacted you?”
“Mm-hm!” Seraphina said, far too delighted. “Poor things. Imagine thinking your planner mixed up two entire weddings. Tragic.”
Lila’s cheeks burned. Her ears burned. Even her hair probably burned.
She straightened her shoulders. “It was one mistake. A fixable mistake.”
“Oh, darling.” Seraphina chuckled softly, like she was talking to a toddler who’d tried to microwave a spoon. “Two weddings mixed up is not a ‘fixable’ mistake. It’s a career-ender.”
Lila felt her stomach clench.
Seraphina stepped closer. Too close.
“You’re new to this, Lila. Young. Fresh-faced. Earnest.” She tapped Lila’s shoulder. “But this industry is brutal. Couples want perfection. They expect perfection. And you—” she gestured vaguely at Lila’s inside-out shirt “—are clearly overwhelmed.”
Lila stiffened. “I can handle it.”
Seraphina’s smile sharpened. “Let me help you.”
There it was.
Not help-help.
Take-over-the-weddings-and-destroy-your-business help.
“No,” Lila said quietly. “I can fix it myself.”
“Lila, sweetheart.” Seraphina sighed dramatically. “You don’t have the experience. Or the network. Or the staff. Or, frankly—” she gestured around “—the infrastructure.”
Lila felt heat rise in her chest, but Seraphina wasn’t finished.
“You’re alone,” Seraphina said simply. “And this is too big for you.”
Lila’s throat tightened. She fought the pressure of tears—no way was she crying in front of Seraphina Bloom.
“I’ll manage,” she whispered.
Seraphina lifted a perfectly sculpted brow. “Will you?”
Lila nodded, fists clenched.
Seraphina shrugged, stepping toward the door. “Well, don’t say I didn’t offer.” She paused with her hand on the frame. “When both couples fire you—and they will—you know where to find me.”
She flashed a blinding smile, turned, and clicked away down the hallway.
The door shut softly.
Silence settled over the room.
Then—
“AAAAARGH!” Lila grabbed a pillow from her office chair and screamed into it. The sound was so primal that the printer beeped in alarm.
She threw the pillow onto the desk and paced again, faster, her mind spinning.
Seraphina knew.
The couples knew.
The whole wedding industry grapevine probably knew.
If she didn’t fix this today, her business—her dream—would be over before it started.
She grabbed her planner with new determination. “Okay, Lila,” she told herself. “You’re going to fix this. You’re not losing to Seraphina Bloom.”
She grabbed her keys.
She grabbed her bag.
She grabbed a pack of emergency granola bars.
And she marched to the elevator, jaw set, heart pounding.
She was going to the courier office.
She was going to intercept the invitations.
She was going to fix the mistake Seraphina already assumed would ruin her.
The elevator doors closed.
Lila Hart, rookie wedding planner, disaster magnet, dream chaser—
Was going to war.
- Writer
