Heather had even managed to coordinate a midnight delivery of actual Philly cheesesteak sandwiches for a bride and groom who’d met at Geno’s in Philadelphia.
But there were some things that money couldn’t buy.
A free Saturday at the Plaza was one of them.
“It’s all right,” Danica said glumly. “You can tell me. It’s not going to happen, is it?”
Heather felt another flutter of surprise at Danica’s perceptiveness. “I’m not going to lie to you; it’s very, very unlikely,” she said quietly. “I’ve been calling a couple times a week. They’re sick of me over there. But the best I’ve been able to get is that we’re first on the waiting list. And if something does open up, you have to understand that we’re not likely to have much notice, and we definitely won’t have control over the date.”
Danica glanced again at her nails. “And you said that we need to send out the save-the-date cards soon.”
Um, like, yesterday, Heather thought.
“We do, yes. Here are our options. We can send out the save-the-date cards and hold off until the very last minute to send the invitations, hoping that by some miracle, the Plaza might become available on that date. Or, we can skip the save-the-date and official invitation process and instead keep this wedding very small and spontaneous. If and when the Plaza does open up, we can gather close friends and family members for a quiet, intimate affair.”
Danica bit her lip. “So basically, it’s the slim possibility of tiny and last-minute at the Plaza, or I drop the Plaza and plan for something else.”
Heather nodded. “Yes. That, or we push the date out to when the Plaza is available.”
“Not an option,” Danica said. “I promised Troy.”
Heather pulled the iPad back toward her, knowing now wasn’t the time to start showing Danica bridesmaid dress patterns and fondant colors. Not when they didn’t even have a date and location.
“Why don’t you take some time to think about it,” she said gently. “Let me know by the end of the week which direction you want to head.”
Danica nodded and swallowed. “Okay. And also . . . I guess I want to say thank you. I know I can be sort of . . . I’m used to getting what I want. Sometimes it doesn’t occur to me that I can’t have it.”
Heather stifled a smile. Danica was absurdly pampered, but at least there was a sliver of self-awareness there. Somehow divas were more tolerable when they realized they were divas.
“Touch base whenever you’re ready,” Heather said as they both stood. “And in the meantime, I’m here for anything you might need.”
Danica gave a distracted smile. “Thanks. I appreciate your patience with this. I’m sorry if I seemed flippant before. I’ve been pretty determined to be nonchalant about the wedding, and I may have gone overboard.”
“It’s fine,” Heather said smoothly, as though it hadn’t been the cause of several migraines over the past few weeks. “My only goal is to get you your dream wedding. I just need a bit more help in understanding what that is.”
“Understood. I appreciate your patience. I really do.”
After Danica left, Heather headed back to her office feeling a fierce sense of relief that the conversation was over, and maybe a bit embarrassed that she’d expended so much energy freaking out about the Robinson wedding instead of addressing the problem with Danica head-on.
Had she been more assertive weeks ago, she’d have saved herself a few huge headaches.
Still, she supposed maybe this was part of the learning curve. If she wanted to be like Alexis and Brooke, she had to make her own mistakes. Learn when to roll with the punches, when to deliver the punches.
Today had been a deliver-the-punch day. Gently, of course.
Heather reached for her cell phone, brought up Josh’s number, and tapped out a message about her mini-accomplishment, only to hesitate before hitting send.
Just days ago, she would have sent it without thinking twice. She’d be telling her friend—the one who was helping her with the wedding—that she’d made some progress.
But now that they’d slept together, she was telling him what, exactly? He wasn’t her boyfriend. Lord knew he’d made that clear. Nor did she want him to be. Heartache that way lay.