By the time we pull up to the hotel, I still have ten minutes to spare, which is perfect for me to get everything set up for the meeting to start.
The receptionist shows me through to one of the conference rooms they book out with a big twenty-person table in the middle. It seems a little over the top when it’s only me, Betty, and the bride for the meeting. Maybe they just didn’t have anything else available.
One of the hotel staff members wheels in a cart with fresh coffee and water before they quickly leave me alone again.
I get everything set up while I wait, laying down the pieces of paper from my design book to show my ideas for the wedding floral pieces, along with my portfolio and the samples I brought along with me.
Betty arrives first, entering with a flourish, her bright pink outfit catching me off guard for a moment. Big pearls adorn her neck, and thick-framed sunglasses cover her eyes.
“Sidney!” She beams with a wide smile, her lipstick matching the color of her jacket, “My little flower petal, how are you?”
I cough out a laugh. “Little flower petal?”
“It fits you, don’t you think?” She pats my shoulder, striding past me to go directly to my concepts. We’ve only spoken a handful of times, but this woman puts me at ease in a way I’ve never felt with a stranger before. I love her.
“Well, I guess,” I laugh, stepping up beside her to see what she is seeing.
Her fingers are fiddling with the pearls around her neck as she looks over my ideas but doesn’t say a word, and her face gives nothing away. I shift from foot to foot, my nerves suddenly getting the best of me.
She taps her long fingernail against the design for the arch, “I love this. Will it look this full?”
I glance at the main piece, an arch made up of peonies, daisies, lily of the valley, and greenery to fill in any possible gaps.
“Yes, I can make it this full. A piece like this, however, needs to be erected in place.”
She barks a laugh, “You can’t say that word around me!”
I blink a few times, running over the sentence in my head, but I can’t figure out where I was offensive.
“Erected,” she whispers under her breath, “it sounds dirty.”
“Nanna,” a sweet, feminine voice has us both turning to the door. The blonde is followed in by a wide, towering man, his face set in stone, stoic and unyielding. He takes up a place against the wall, his brows low and stern. “Only you would find an innocent word said in context dirty.”
For a minute, I think I forget to breathe.
No way. There’s no way.
“You’re…” I breathe, blinking in an attempt to reset my vision.
“Stella Shaw?” The woman grins, “Well, yes, but you can call me Thea. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Huh?”
“Stella is a stage name,” Betty informs me, bumping my shoulder. “Did I not mention that my granddaughter is Stella Shaw? It must have slipped my mind. Andthat hunk of meat against the wall is Tripp.” I glance to where the man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but I see a slight twitch in his lips as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.
Stella—or Thea—shakes her head. “I apologize; she does this a lot.”
“Wait,” I tug out my phone and Google Stella’s name, looking at the image that comes up with the results. Well, I’ll be damned, I am standing in a room withtheStella Shaw, country star sensation and award-winning artist. America’s damn sweetheart.
“That’s me,” Thea points at the screen.
It occurs to me that I’m not only arranging for one of the country’s most popular stars, but it’s for one of the most high-profile weddings of the year. Thea is marrying Oscar-winning actor Jared Daniels. Their romance has been filled with scandal and speculation after a rather intimate video was leaked to the press. It was all over social media and the tabloids since Jared was still dating his former supermodel girlfriend. The world thought his career might have been over, but then the two announced their engagement, and he somehow won back the public’s favor.
“Do you need to freak out for a minute?” Thea asks, a small, amused smile touching her lips.
“Maybe for like three seconds,” I admit. “I’ll just—” I point to the door and show myself out, closing it behind me where I promptly freak the fuck out.
Yanking my cell from my pocket, I dial Noah.
