Everything

XLI

Everything was coming together, and given that it was the morning before I was set to become Mrs Spencer Haywood, I was more than relieved.

My dress had arrived, couriered, that morning, and was hanging on the balcony, ready to slip into tomorrow.

The chairs for the ceremony were currently being ushered through the front door and out through the back by two delivery guys, directed by Serena.

Flowers were already being put together, arranged and draped in the perfect positions, ready to artfully accompany our vows.

And the gazebo for the wedding reception was being pieced together by five bulky men from Sebastian's site, who'd arrived at the crack of dawn and got to work immediately, chatting and going through immense amounts of builder's tea, as if they were assembling Lego Bricks.

It all seemed to be perfect, and as I sat on the stairs in my dressing gown, Serena's fluffy slippers on my feet, rollers in my hair, and my nails wrapped in foil, the tension of the wedding planning all seemed to dissipate.

But the saying 'too good to be true' seemed to apply aptly to my situation, and before I knew it, chaos ensued, bringing disaster in its wake.

Spencer burst through the front door, phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear, worry etched all over his face.

He had a stack of boxes in his hands, as he headed towards the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" he barked down the phone, "TSTM? What the f*ck is that? Speak English, damn it."

I got up immediately from my spot on the stairs at the concern in his voice, and followed him into the living area.

He evidently hadn't spotted me, too caught up in whatever had his rapt attention on the other end of the line, resting the boxes on a side table.

"Look, none of that means sh*t to me. They have to be here, and they have to be here for tonight. No ifs, buts or maybes..."

He paused, clearly letting the person on the other end of the phone speak.

"No! Tropical storm, no tropical storm, turbulence or no turbulence - you would have to rescue the plane from the Bermuda fucking Triangle as far as I'm concerned. Damn it, Ricky! You know how much this means to me, means to my fiancee. Come on, you've got to do something here."

What? What was happening? Storm? Turbulence? Did this have anything to do with my family?

They were meant to be arriving at Heathrow on Spencer's plane this afternoon. He'd promised me that at least. Once mama and my abuela were here, I could truly relax. Licia and Antonio were due here on a first class flight from New York at roughly the same time. Then, my wedding plans would truly be complete, and I'd be ready for the big day - ready to become Spencer's wife.

"Spencer, what's happened?" I asked, raising my voice to grab his attention.

He turned, and my heart sank into my stomach. It was written all over his ashen face.

"Ricky - I'll call you back. Please for the love of God, sort this out." he disconnected the call.

"Spencer?" I questioned, hating what I was seeing in his eyes, "They'll be here, right? My parents and my abuela? Everything's fine, isn't it?"

"I--" he paused, indecision in his expression, raking one hand through his hair, "They say there's been a storm overnight over the Atlantic. It's cancelled all flights out of Mexico. Baby I--"

"They're not -- coming?" my voice cracked immediately as the realisation sank in, "They...they can't come?"

Spencer sighed, putting his head in his hand for a moment, "Sweetheart, I'm doing everything I can to get them here. Absolutely everything. Licia is already on her way here, the plane took off despite the turbulence forecast. But I'm having problems with convincing the people on my jet to step in - they say it just isn't safe to fly right now..."