Page 39 of The Proposal Planner (Ever After #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

MADDY

Six months later, I'm standing in the bridal suite of the Ashford Estate, watching Ivy work her magic on what can best be described as a bridesmaid crisis of epic proportions.

"Breathe, Jennifer," Ivy says, her voice calm, steady, like someone who's talked more than one wedding party off the ledge. "The dress isn't ruined. It's merely, temporarily enhanced by coffee."

The bride's sister, who thought Irish coffee was an appropriate breakfast choice, stands dripping with what used to be her bridesmaid dress and is now an abstract art piece in beige and brown.

"But the ceremony starts in twenty minutes!" Jennifer wails, looking like she's about to dissolve into tears that ruin makeup and delay processions.

"Which gives us plenty of time," Ivy replies, pulling out a complete backup outfit from her emergency kit. "Size six, champagne colored, and I took the liberty of having it pressed this morning because I had a feeling."

I watch from my position near the window, in awe of my best friend's crisis management skills.

This isn't my usual territory, I stick to proposals, leaving the actual weddings to Savvy, but when Ivy begged me to come as backup support for what she called "a potentially explosive situation," I couldn't say no.

"How did you know to bring a backup dress?" I whisper to her as she helps Jennifer into the replacement outfit.

"Honey, when the bride specifically asks me to keep her sister from making a scene and warns me that Mark's college roommate might run his mouth, I come prepared for everything, wardrobe malfunctions and full-scale emotional meltdowns," Ivy says back, fastening buttons with practiced ease.

"This is tame compared to the Hamptons incident involving a flamingo costume. "

"A what?"

"Different story, different bridesmaid crisis. Ask me later when we're safely through this ceremony."

I shake my head, marveling at the fact that Ivy has turned professional wedding pandemonium management into an art form.

While I orchestrate perfect proposal moments and Savvy creates dream weddings, Ivy specializes in the impossible task of keeping other people's wedding parties functional and drama-free.

"Maddy," Savvy's voice crackles through my earpiece, "how's the bridesmaid situation up there?"

"Ivy performed what I can only describe as a minor miracle involving a backup dress and superior organizational skills," I report back. "Crisis averted."

"Thank god. Because down here, I'm dealing with a groomsman who keeps making mysterious phone calls and looking like he's plotting a dramatic stunt."

Through the window, I catch sight of the wedding setup Savvy orchestrated, flowers arranged to perfection, guests seated in crisp rows, the whole scene polished enough for a magazine spread. I spot Mason and Henry in the crowd, both sharp in their suits, standing in as our plus-ones for the day.

This is the wedding that started with my proposal plan three months ago, Mark and Laurie, the couple who wanted a blend of timeless charm and unexpected magic.

I'd created the perfect sunset proposal in the estate's rose garden, with hidden musicians and positioned photographers.

Now Laurie gets to walk down the aisle toward the man who surprised her with a ring tucked inside a vintage music box that played their song.

"Laurie," Ivy says, turning to the bride after transforming Jennifer from coffee disaster to picture-perfect bridesmaid, "you look radiant. Are you ready to marry your best friend?"

Laurie beams, gorgeous in her grandmother's silk dress that Savvy somehow managed to alter to perfection. "I still can't believe Mark's proposal was so perfect. When I saw that music box opening and heard our song..."

"That's what Maddy does," Ivy says with a grin in my direction. "She makes proposal dreams come true."

"And Ivy makes sure the actual wedding doesn't implode," I add, watching her pack an entire emergency response kit into a discrete bag. "Speaking of which, what's in there that I don't want to know about?"

"Stain remover, backup jewelry, emergency makeup, safety pins, superglue, and a flask of whiskey for truly desperate situations," she lists off casually. "Plus a few items that fall under the category of 'you'd be surprised what people forget.'"

"Should I be concerned about the groomsman Savvy mentioned?"

Ivy's expression shifts into what I've come to recognize as her "professional assessment" mode.

"Brooks Taylor? Mark's college roommate?

I've been keeping an eye on him. He's been making phone calls and muttering about financial stability and protecting his friend from mistakes.

Classic signs of someone who thinks dramatic wedding interruptions are socially acceptable. "

"Please tell me you have a plan for that."

"Honey, I once prevented a bride's ex-boyfriend from crashing a ceremony by convincing him that grand romantic gestures work in movies, not real life. One questionable groomsman with boundary issues? That's another morning for me."

I follow Ivy and the bridal party downstairs, hanging back to watch as my friend navigates the pre-ceremony whirlwind like someone who's seen every wedding disaster imaginable and lived to tell the tale.

She adjusts Laurie's veil, redirects a confused flower girl, and somehow prevents Jennifer from having a second coffee-related crisis.

I grin, adjusting my own dress, a soft blue number that coordinates effortlessly for my role as wedding guest and backup support. Ever After, Inc. has a reputation to maintain, after all, even when we're working adjacent events.

"Places, everyone," Savvy's voice comes through the earpiece as the processional music begins. "And Ivy, I can see Brooks near the altar doing what looks suspiciously like rehearsing a speech."

"Copy that," Ivy replies, her voice taking on the tone of someone accepting a mission. "Proceeding to formation."

I slip into the back row where Mason's saved me a seat, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before settling in to watch the ceremony. From here, I have a perfect view of both the proceedings and Ivy's position in the bridal party.

The ceremony begins beautifully. The bridesmaids glide down the aisle, and there's Ivy among them, looking elegant in her champagne-colored dress, seamlessly blended into the wedding party as part of her professional services, what she calls "undercover crisis management.

" The groomsmen look appropriately solemn, and Laurie practically floats toward Mark, who looks like he's about to cry happy tears.

Everything is picture-perfect, the kind of moment that makes all the planning and coordination worthwhile.

From her spot in the bridal party, Ivy holds a clear view of both the altar and the guests. I catch her watching the ceremony with one eye and Brooks standing among the groomsmen, growing more agitated by the second, with the other.

The officiant begins the traditional ceremony, his voice carrying across the garden. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Mark and Laurie in marriage..."

Everything proceeds until we reach the moment every wedding coordinator dreads.

"If anyone has any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

The silence that follows should be peaceful, ceremonial. Instead, Brooks takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and

Ivy moves.

What happens next is both the most professional and the most spectacular thing I've ever witnessed.

From her spot in the bridal party, Ivy somehow intercepts Brooks with what can be described as the most graceful tackle in wedding history.

She steps out of formation and takes him down behind the decorative garden hedge in a perfectly executed maneuver.

There's a moment of silence. Then a sickening thud as Brooks meets the marble cherub statue that guards the rose bushes.

Another beat of silence.

Then Ivy's head pops up from behind the hedge, bits of leaves and twigs tangled in her once-pristine hair. She glances around, eyes wide and all innocence.

"Nothing to see here, folks!" she calls out brightly, brushing a fern frond off her shoulder. "A minor landscaping adjustment!"

Mason grabs my hand, squeezing as we watch in fascination.

The other bridesmaids look momentarily confused, but they're well-trained enough to maintain their positions.

Laurie and Mark are so focused on each other they don't even notice.

The officiant, bless him, continues without missing a beat. "Then by the power vested in me..."

Ivy slips behind the hedge, her frantic whisper crackling through the earpiece. "Maddy? Savvy? I need someone to call an ambulance. Discreetly. Like, really discreetly. And maybe wheel over that dessert cart with the long tablecloth. We need to move some equipment somewhere less visible."

"Equipment?" Savvy's voice crackles back.

"Six-foot-tall, unconscious equipment that's currently bleeding on the prize-winning petunias."

"You may kiss the bride," the officiant concludes, and Mark and Laurie seal their marriage with a kiss that makes the entire garden erupt in applause.

Amid the flurry of congratulations and rice throwing, I watch as Ivy somehow manages to coordinate the most covert medical operation in wedding history.

She's checking Brooks's pulse, fixing her hair, and smiling radiantly at passing guests, all at once.

A server discreetly wheels the dessert cart near the hedge, and, helped by two confused but well-tipped waiters, they manage to get Brooks onto it and covered by the tablecloth.

"Status report," Savvy's voice crackles through the earpiece during the recessional.