Loving Alpha Brandon

Chapter Two

Rosie eyes scanned the budget for the umpteenth time. Typical 'look but no see' syndrome. Halfway through the writeup and she had lost her way. All she could make up of the words was that she had a wedding to plan in a week.

This was the first job she'd taken in almost four months. Once she sat at the top of demanded wedding planners. Rivals would sprout but her name which was now household would be on the lips of every couple who were looking for a talk of the town wedding with the slimmest of budgets and highest of expectations. She'd have one or two entries a week and she'd keep to both deadline and foretaste; a quality that kept her atop the spotlight for a daring while.

But she'd fallen in the past year. Mishaps had become common. Her reviews were ridden with insults and swear words and what hurt more was that she deserved it. Yes, she did. Lawsuits were flying left right center and she was slowing being pulled into debt. Bunch of warning notices sat in a heap on her desk very close to the blue flowered dress her husband had gotten her for her honeymoon.

Justin; her husband had been her everything. He'd been her love and had been her husband. His kisses were the reason her feet kissed the cold board floor of their bedroom. His words was the last strand of fibre she held onto sr the end of everyday.

She hadn't met a man similar to him in the remote sense. A construction which graced each second with a smile. No matter what, no matter when. A lot of things drew him to her and the least of them was his looks.

Calling him anything other than gorgeous would be a crime. If you thought otherwise, then explain the gushing of other women whenever they went to any gathering. Explain the constant flirty stares and winks he received. Rosie had grown tired of getting jealous. There was no need to. He was hers. Nothing could change that, or so she thought. Sadly, she was wrong.

Rosie grabbed a tissue from its flock and dapped away her tears. They had their whole lives ahead of them. They would have had two kids and would have moved to the nice countryside to raise them. Justin would build the kids a tree house… they would wait at the door wach time they returned home. These were Rosie's dreams, these were their dreams. But death had other plans.

Justin had died. There was a machine hazard, there was an explosion. Rosie sniffled as she recalled the sight of two police men at her door that afternoon. The company had been contracted to plant an oil rig. There had been an incident resulting in Justin and six other men reduced to ashes in a matter of seconds. Six women robbed of their husbands and Rosie was one of those women.

She didn't handle the news well, she couldn't. Somehow she found that burying herself in work would make the pain somewhat easier to bear. She barred herself from feeling pain. She had was just put herself up there. She was so afraid of slacking untill three months ago. Their second year anniversary. That was when the silde began.

That was when the mishaps began. That was when the mistakes began. She began loosing clients. Her rivals took over the spotlight. For the past three months, she'd stayed indoors. Just booze, canned foods and nights of teara. She was falling apart and she wouldn't listen to anyone. Her parents called but to no avail. She had cut herself from the world.

"Tea, Mrs Rosie?" Sylvia asked, standing behind her. Rosie rose her face startled.

"Get me some juice."

Sylvia was the only one who had dared enough to take the job as her househelp. She was a middle-aged woman who'd taken up the job as one of the multiple jobs she worked. She proved to be a good choice as well. Rosie was one difficult, arrogant young lady and Sylvia knew just how to melt her frustration.

"On the way ma'am," Sylvia replied walking out. She understood Rosie, at least to an extent. She had lost her husband as well and he'd left three kids in her care. She knew how guilt had a way of bendinf even the strongest of souls.

Meanwhile Rosie's was going over the couple's budget for the third time.

"This is do much to handle. I don't think I'll be able to handle this," Rosie complained as she sipped om her drink.

"The Rosie I heard about was famous for making impossible things possible."

"Yeah, well look at the state of me. An event as huge as this is surely going to be a lot of stress. Do you think I'll be able to handle thos?"

She'd gotten this job from a couple who are desperate. The typical case of grand budget and grand expectations. Even though they heard about Rosie's recent slipups, they'd trusted her or probably the other planners wouldn't take them up.