Free No Falling Allowed (No Kissing Allowed) by Melissa West Page A

job and moving isn’t the end of the world.”
    I thought about my options, my expenses. “No, it isn’t. But even if I sold some of my things, that would only cover me for a while. I still can’t afford an apartment like mine on a single salary.”
    “What about your inheritance?” Lauren asked.
    I laughed. “I’m supposed to get it when I turn twenty-five, but I’d be shocked if my dad honored it after this. There’s probably a clause in it—join Soaring or die.”
    “Have you talked to your dad today?”
    “No, and I don’t plan to. It’s my life, not his.”
    “You’re right,” Cameron said. “But he’s still your father.”
    I nodded. “Yet that’s never been enough for him.” She reached for my hand, and I tried to keep my bottom lip from trembling. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to show him that I don’t need him or his money.”
    “That’s right,” Lauren said, taking my other hand. “You’re going to be the best wedding planner on the planet.”
    “I am!” I said. “You know…as soon as I figure out exactly what they do.”
    We all laughed, and then Cameron turned to me, an excited expression on her face. “Oh, I almost forgot—what happened with that bartender guy? We were so wrapped up in…” She frowned. “Well, you know…that I didn’t think to ask you.”
    I thought back to Thursday night, how perfect every moment had been, only to wake up alone as though it had all been a dream. Then again, maybe it had.
    “Nothing. Nothing worth talking about, anyway.”
    “But he went home with you, right?” Lauren pressed.
    “He walked me home…” I stared into the street, lost as to why I couldn’t tell my two best friends that he’d left. No note. No good-bye. But with being fired and then getting cut off by my father, they were already looking at me like a sad puppy at the animal shelter that no one wanted to take home. I couldn’t tell them that it had been one of the best nights of my life, or that it had clearly meant nothing to him.
    “So that’s it? He walked you home and then left? Nothing happened?”
    My gaze swung back to my friends, the picture of control, while my insides prickled at the memory, the hurt. “Nothing happened.”
    “Oh well,” Cameron said as she took another bite of her sandwich. “You’ll probably never see him again.”
    “Right…” And though I knew Cameron was right, I couldn’t help wishing that I could see him. Just once more. If only to prove to myself that it wasn’t all a figment of my imagination.
    …
    I made my way toward the Plaza at the intersection of Central Park and Fifth Avenue at one thirty the next Saturday, eager to meet Annalise and prove to her that I would be the best wedding planner in existence. I would listen and learn and do whatever I had to do to get this job. Forget the fact that I’d only assisted on a handful of weddings and knew little about the process. Small, inconsequential detail.
    So I squared my shoulders and went inside New York’s most famous hotel, following the various signs to the Kemp/Walsh wedding, the names Annalise had texted me that morning. I had planned events, and I had taste—impeccable taste. But it wasn’t until I glanced though the French Doors of the Plaza’s Palm Court, into the Terrace Room, that I realized I would need a lot more than taste to work for Annalise. She wasn’t merely talented. She was a magician.
    I quietly stepped into the room and craned my neck to take in the paintings adorning the ceiling, an obvious nod to the Italian Renaissance, and then the crystal chandeliers. The room was breathtaking all on its own, but Annalise had added special touches to turn it into the most enchanting place I’d ever seen.
    Candles were situated all around the room; white flowers peeked out in just the right places. In the front, she’d fixed a beautiful canopy decorated with more flowers and candles, then two hundred or more chairs sat in rows, each with a wedding