Chapter 3 Engagement party preparations

ANNA'S POINT OF VIEW

"I wrap myself in the cozy embrace of a gray, fluffy blanket, settling in for an episode of The Real Housewives of New York. Today, I have allowed myself a rare respite from the demands of the office. "

"It is an unusual indulgence, but the thought of work was simply unbearable. Instead, I have chosen to submerge my woes in a sea of potato chips and chocolate, ignoring calls and messages.

"I am ensconced in the solitude of my apartment, shielded from the world. There are days when solitude is a necessity, when the company of others is the last thing you desire.

Suddenly, my phone pierces the silence, and an internal groan echoes through me.

"Who on earth could that be?

"I grumbled, snatching up the device. Stephen's name flickers on the screen.

"Hello?" I greeted him, somewhat resign

"Hey, Annabelle. You have been off the radar today. Is everything alright?" His voice carries a note of concern.

I exhaled softly. "Yes, I am fine. What is up?

"Well, there is a gathering tonight at my place. We are announcing my engagement, "he reveals, and my expression darkens.

"Um, Stephen, are you actually pleased with this?

" I inquire, my voice tinged with apprehension. I yearn for his happiness, yet I long to keep him all to myself.

"Silence, you envious creature.

"Absolutely, I am," he responds. A pang tightens in my chest. Yet, he is my dearest friend, and the noble course would be to stand by him. Even if it entails enduring the sight of him with another.

"I will make it," I exhaled.

"Wonderful, Annabelle.

"See you then."

"Farewell." The call ends.

So much for my plans of solitude in my apartment. My phone buzzes - a message from Rose.

"Rose: Dress shopping in ten. Off the sofa, please and thanks. "

Her intuition never fails. I stride into my bedroom, which, like my office, reflects my impeccable taste. It's not boasting if it's true.

At the age of twenty, I decided to move out. The constant bustle of my home, shared with my siblings who were eighteen and seventeen at the time, made it impossible to find any quiet space to concentrate on my work.

Stepping into my closet, I selected a white spaghetti strap top and paired it with light blue jeans, complementing the outfit with a cozy, loosely knit cardigan. I released my hair from the confines of the messy bun it had been in all day, running a brush through my brown tresses.

The persistent ringing of my phone interrupted the calm. Annoyed, I hurried to the living room, wondering why I was suddenly so popular. To my surprise, it was Tanya calling - Stephen's mother. What could she possibly want?

"Hi, Tanya, what is going on?" I asked, consciously avoiding the more formal 'Mrs. King' to sidestep a potential lengthy lecture.

"Oh dear, I am in quite the predicament and could really use your assistance," she replied, her tone laced with anxiety.

"What is the matter?"

"It is the event planner; they are all booked up, and the alternatives just do not meet Olivia's standards. She is adamant they will not be organizing tonight's party.

"I have got an interview lined up too," she added.

I hummed in response, uncertain of her intent.

"Do you recall how you put together Chris's parents' anniversary celebration in under two hours?"

I do not need to wonder any longer; her direction was clear.

"Tanya-"

"Annabelle, you are the only one I can turn to." Event planning was my backup career, just a step behind modeling. I even earned a certificate from an online course. Yet, the question remained: could I organize an event that reopened old wounds? But if it made Stephen happy, perhaps it was worth it. It is not as if it would cause Olivia to despise me.

"Okay, I will do it."

"Thank you dearly! I'll see you later."

A message from Rose popped up, indicating her arrival.

I collected my belongings and entered the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. As the doors closed, I took out my phone and began making calls for the event.

"You seem tense, what's the matter?" Rose inquired, concern in her voice as we drove away from my apartment.

"Tanya has tasked me with organizing Stephen's engagement celebration," I mutter, scrolling through my contacts for a caterer.

"You are kidding," she explodes into laughter.

"Rose, if you do not stop laughing, I am going to leap out of this vehicle," I warn her, my glare sharp as she attempts to stifle her amusement.

"Admit it, it is quite humorous, and a tad awkward," she snickers.

"Before we hit the stores, we need to make a detour at the Kings estate," I say, lifting my phone.

The remainder of the journey was spent frantically coordinating the event over the phone, a challenging feat given we only had four hours until the party. Arriving at the Kings estate, I was surprised to find the parking area overrun with vehicles, an unusual sight even for their frequent gatherings.

"Sophia!" Stephen's mother descends the stairs in haste.

"Kat, thank you. I'll arrange for collection," I assure the baker on the other end of the line.

"Your help means the world to us," she says, embracing me warmly.

"Sure thing." Surveying the room, I notice the decorations coming together nicely with gold streamers and black balloons adorning the space. My gaze locks with a set of striking blue-green eyes.

There he stands, being fitted by his tailor, looking every bit the part of dashing groom-to-be, his hair slicked back in a rebellious fashion. His eyes scan me from head to toe, and I find myself swallowing hard as our eye contact breaks. This man is my undoing.

"Anna! I have been shouting your name!" She approaches, offering me a bottle of water.

"Hydrate a little please. You have not put that phone down since we left your apartment." I am about to shake my head when my phone starts to ring again - it is the caterers.

"Hel-" Before I can finish, Stephen snatches the phone from my hand, his touch sending a jolt through me.

"She is tied up at the moment. She will ring you back," he declares, his gaze intense on mine.

"Stephen, what is the meaning of this?" I demand, but he ignores my question, taking the water bottle from Rose instead.

"Take a sip," he suggests, presenting the open bottle to me.

"Walls, fascinating!" Rose exclaims, darting away. The deserter.

"I need to-"

"Drink, Anna," he insists, his tone firm. I glance at him and take the bottle, gulping down the water eagerly; my thirst was genuine.

"Well done," he commends, a shiver running through me. Now, where did I put my phone?

"Stephen, I want my phone back!"

"You will get it after you have called Annabelle Jones Designs to order a suit for," he pauses, glancing at his wristwatch. It has been a constant companion on his left wrist since we were five - never on the right. It is one of those quirks about him that I inexplicably adore.

"In roughly three hours," he says with a teasing smirk.

"So, you are asking my firm to tailor your suit?" I inquire, a smile playing on my lips.

"Indeed," he confirms with a nod.

"Consider it done," I reply, chuckling.

"Alright then," I say with a laugh.

"Babe!" The voice is unmistakably familiar.

"Ah, Anna" Olivia greets me with a disingenuous smile.

"Olivia," I acknowledge with a nod.

"We need to leave, babe," she insists, clutching Stephen's arm tightly, and I feel a pang in my gut.

"But-" Stephen starts, but Olivia is already pulling him away.

"Revolting," Rose comments as she comes over and drapes her arm around my shoulders.

"Just ignore them," I exhale heavily. Glancing over, I see them chatting with his father. Stephen's smile seems forced, but he claims he is content. Perhaps it is time I accept that he might actually be happy.

"Shopping for dresses cures all woes, does it not?" I chuckle, stepping outside with Rose.

"Where's Stephen?" The designer's voice cuts through the air, her French accent thick.

"I am here," Stephen replies, approaching with Olivia in tow.

"Perfect, I just need one last measurement. And Anna, what color will your dress be for tonight's event?" she inquires.

"I am uncertain, perhaps blue," I whisper, sidestepping the silent accusations Olivia hurls my way.

"And a blue tie for Stephen," she notes. The rational part of me recognized the need to clarify that his tie should not be the same as my dress, yet the irrational, envious part hesitated.

Eventually, I spoke up.

"His tie should complement Olivia's dress, tonight and essentially every other evening," I murmur, barely audible. Our eyes lock, and my heart fractures - what is it, the fifth time now?

"Indeed, that is correct for Stephen. My mistake," she concedes, then departs.

His ties have always been in sync with my dresses, regardless of our joint presence at events. The idea of him coordinating his tie with another woman's dress casts a shadow over my mood.

"Time to leave, Anna," Rose urges, guiding me forward.

An hour later, we emerge from Versace, elated with our gowns, footwear, and the unexpected civility of the paparazzi.

Now, all that remains is to endure the evening's celebration.