Brown-Eyed Girl (Travises 4)

“Ella… they’re not regular people. I don’t care how much chicken-fried steak they eat, they’re just not. The money, the name, the looks… nothing about them is normal, no matter how they pretend otherwise.”

“They’re not pretending,” Ella said thoughtfully, “it’s more like… a value they want to live by. Trying to erase the distance between themselves and other people. They keep their egos in check, and they try to be honest with themselves.” She shrugged and smiled. “I figure they deserve some credit for making the effort… don’t you?”

Ten

At nine o’clock on Monday morning, Ryan Chase arrived at the Crosslin Event Design studio, determined to do or say whatever was necessary to “solve the problem” and move on. Except that a wedding wasn’t supposed be a problem, it was supposed to be joyful. A union of two people who wanted to spend their lives together.

However, at this point in my career, I had learned that some weddings didn’t match the fairy-tale template. So the goal in this case was to figure out what was possible. What might be appropriate for a bridegroom who viewed his wedding as an obligation.

I welcomed Ryan into the studio and introduced him to Sofia, who would be the only other person present at the meeting. I had told everyone else, including Steven, not to come in until noon. As we showed Ryan around, he seemed pleasantly surprised by the studio, looking closely at our renovations, the rows of factory windows left intact. “I like this place,” he said. “I thought everything was going to be pink.”

Sofia and I laughed.

“We have to live here,” I said, “so it had to be comfortable and not too fussy. And on occasion, we do plan events other than weddings.”

“It’s nice that you kept some of the industrial elements.” Ryan glanced up at a couple of exposed pipes overhead. “I do a lot of restoration projects. Old courthouses, theaters, and museums. I like buildings with character.”

We sat on the blue sofa, while a video monitor played a photo stream from past weddings that the studio had planned and coordinated. “Ryan,” I began carefully, “I’ve given a lot of thought to your circumstances. Every wedding comes with a certain amount of built-in stress. But when you add the stress of Bethany’s pregnancy, and the drama Hollis brings to the table, it’s going to be…”

“A nightmare?” he supplied.

“I was going to say ‘challenging,’” I said wryly. “Have you considered talking Bethany into an elopement? Because we could arrange something simple and romantic, and I think it would be much easier on you.”

Sofia shot me a startled glance. I knew she was wondering why I would risk the loss of a huge opportunity for our business. But I had to bring up the idea of eloping – I couldn’t have lived with myself otherwise.

Ryan shook his head. “There’s no way Bethany would ever go for that. She told me she’s been dreaming her whole life about a big wedding.” He relaxed a little, his blue eyes warming several degrees. “But it was nice of you to mention it. Thanks for taking my feelings into consideration.” This was said without a trace of self-pity, only a matter-of-fact friendliness.

“Your feelings are important,” I said. “And so are your opinions. I’m trying to get a sense of how much involvement you’ll want in the wedding-planning process. Some men prefer to take part in every decision, whereas others —”

“Not me,” he said flatly. “I’ll leave all that to Bethany and Hollis. Not that I’d have a choice, anyway. But what I don’t want is for the wedding to turn into something…” He paused, trying to think of the right word.

“Una paletada hortera,” Sofia supplied. At our questioning glances, she said, “There’s not really a phrase for it in English… the best translation is ‘a shovelful of tacky.’”

Ryan laughed, the flash of humor and warmth transforming his face. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

“All right, then,” I said. “During the planning process, I’ll give you updates as things are decided. If there’s something you don’t like, I’ll shut it down. There may be a couple of things we’ll have to compromise on, but overall, the wedding will be elegant. And it will not turn into The Hollis Warner Show.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said feelingly. He looked at his watch. “If that’s it for now —”

“Wait, what about the proposal?” I asked.

A slight frown crossed his brow. “I’ll probably propose to Bethany next weekend.”

“Yes, but do you know how you’re going to do it?”

“I’ll get a ring and take her out to dinner.” His frown deepened as he saw my expression. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all. But you could do it in a more imaginative way. We could come up with something cute and fairly easy.”

“I’m not good at cute,” Ryan said.

“Take her to Padre Island,” Sofia suggested. “Stay at a beachside villa for a night. The next morning, the two of you could go for a walk on the beach…”

“And you’ll pretend to find a message in a bottle,” I said, brainstorming.

“No, no,” Sofia interrupted, “not a bottle… a sand castle. We’ll hire some professional sand sculptors to do it —”