Listen to Your Heart

by Sydney Logan

  After a quick shower and fresh clothes, I’m back in my car and heading toward the interstate. I have two important errands today, and both are on the other side of the city. I’ve just hit I-40 when my cell rings. A quick glance at the screen does nothing to ease my guilt.

  “Hey, Jules.”

  “Are you driving? You better not be talking to me while you’re driving.”

  I grin. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “I mean it, Caleb.”

  “Would you relax? I’m using the hands-free thing you got me for Christmas.”

  “Good. So . . . hi.”

  “Hi. What’s up? You sound tired.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Something’s wrong. She sounds miserable, which isn’t like Jules at all, especially when she’s at a photography conference. Unlike most normal people, there’s nothing Juliana loves more than sitting in workshops all day.

  “Okay, Jules, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I roll my eyes and inch the car up the freeway. Traffic is at a complete standstill.

  “Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I hear her sigh. “Caleb, I’ve been thinking about what you asked me.”

  “When?”

  “As I was leaving for the airport. You asked if I’ve ever met someone. Someone who took my breath away. Remember?”

  Thank God for traffic jams. Otherwise, I probably would have crashed my car into a median.

  “Why did you ask me that, Caleb?”

  Juliana and I have always had a strict no bullshit policy, but I’m not sure I’m ready to have this conversation with her. For one thing, she’s thousands of miles away. For another, I have absolutely no idea what to say.

  “Jules, let’s talk about this when you get home, okay?”

  “That’s two weeks away.”

  “I know.”

  She sighs softly. “Okay.”

  Traffic starts creeping, and I change the subject by asking questions about the photo conference. The Juliana I love suddenly emerges, and I can’t keep from smiling as she talks about filters and lenses and the new Nikon she purchased at a discount. She also mentions a photojournalist she met who works for National Geographic. Her excitement is infectious, and by the time traffic starts moving at a normal speed, I find myself relaxed and not dreading the day so much. That fact that I’ll see Skye later tonight might have a little something to do with it, too.

  “Did you get my message about the fitting?” she asks quietly. “You didn’t reply.”

  And just like that, my anxiety’s back.

  “Sorry. Yeah, I got it. I’ll text the guys to remind them.”

  “Good. I just realized it’s Thursday. I’ll need to call Mom later.”

  “I’m headed there right now.”

  “Oh, Caleb, you don’t have to visit her today. She knows I’m out of town. At least, I told her I was going to be. Who knows if she remembers.”

  “I know I don’t have to go. I want to. You know I love her.”

  “I know you do,” she says with a quiet sigh. “Trust me, I know.”

  Today’s Thursday, and like every Thursday for the past few months, I find myself standing in the foyer of the Martinez mansion. The house is immaculate, with stark white walls displaying endless family photos—most of which were taken by Juliana. The Martinez family is made of money, but neither the house nor its occupants are unwelcoming or arrogant. Rafe and Luisa Martinez have treated me like a son since the day we met. I love them almost as much as I love my own parents, which is why I’m here, standing in their house, and engaged to their daughter.

  Luisa had always expected a lot out of Juliana, and that list included a college degree, a successful career, an extravagant wedding, the perfect son-in-law, and a bunch of grandkids. During our college years, Luisa had dropped many not-so-subtle hints about my relationship with her daughter, and while Jules and I constantly reminded her that we were just friends, Luisa never gave up hope that someday we’d be exactly what we are today.

  Engaged.

  Luisa Martinez now has what she always wanted, but the circumstances are far from romantic.

  “Mr. Caleb, it’s good to see you. Mrs. Martinez is excited that you’re here.”

  I smile at Joaquin, the family’s butler. “How is she today?”

  “Oh, today’s a good day,” he says, but I can hear the sadness in his voice. Joaquin’s been part of the family almost as long as Juliana’s been alive, and Luisa’s illness has hit him hard, too. “Come with me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I follow him down the hall that leads to Luisa’s bedroom . . . if you can call it that. These days, it looks more like a hospital room, with machines and wires and bags of fluid hanging on each side of the bed. Luisa had always been an active woman, but these past few months have left her fragile and weak.

  Joaquin turns the golden knob and waves me inside the room, but I stop short when I see Luisa’s head leaned against the headboard. I softly clear my throat, and her eyes snap open, blinking rapidly and then shining brightly when she sees me standing in the doorway.

  “Caleb,” she says softly, a smile grazing her lips. “Come in.”

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I can come back.”

  “Nonsense. It’s Thursday.” She smiles, and I’m encouraged by her clarity. “I didn’t expect you today since Juliana’s out of town.”

  Joaquin offers me a smile before closing the door, and I slowly make my way to her bedside. Leaning down, I kiss her cheek and notice that her skin’s paler than usual. I sit down in a nearby chair and reach for her hand.

  “I wouldn’t have missed our Thursday visit for the world.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Caleb Lynch, do you know how many times a day I’m asked that question?”

  I chuckle. She’s feisty today. It’s nice to see.

  “About a thousand, probably.”

  “Close. Could we possibly talk about something else? Tell me how the wedding plans are coming along.”

  I smile tightly. Of course she’d expect a progress report.

  “Right on schedule, as far as I know. The groomsmen and I have our tux fittings this afternoon.”

  “Wonderful. Juliana says the wedding planners are a dream.”

  “I’ve only met one of them. Short thing. Blonde hair. Walks and talks like she drank too many Red Bulls.”

  “Oh, yes. Her name escapes me . . .”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and check Juliana’s text from last night.

  “Lynsey?”

  “That sounds right.”

  For the next hour, Luisa does nothing but talk about the wedding. I find it amazing that her mental capacity fails a little more each day, and yet, she’s able to remember every single detail of the wedding preparations, down to the color of the cocktail napkins. The more she talks, the livelier she becomes, so I plaster on my smile and allow her to believe the lie.

  There’s no denying it. For Luisa Martinez, the promise of our wedding day is the only thing stronger than the cancer that’s ravaging her body. Despite the failed treatments and the dismal prognosis, Luisa Martinez will live long enough to see her only daughter walk down the aisle.

  To me.

  “I do not have the flu!” Lynsey whines in my ear.

  “Well, the doctor says you do. It’s fine, Lyns. We’ll handle it.”

  Glancing at the schedule for the next few days assures me that I’ll have to lean on our part-time girls more than usual, but at least we don’t have a wedding this weekend.

  “I have a groomsmen fitting at three with Juliana’s fiancé. You know, the guy I’ve only met once who has no interest whatsoever in the ceremony.” She proceeds to hack up a lung, right in my ear. “I’m coming in.”

  “You are not coming in. I don’t want your germs, especially tonight. You’re staying home until at least Monday, just like the
doctor said.”

  She sniffles. “I can’t . . . wait, what do you mean especially tonight? What’s tonight?”

  “I have plans.”

  I hope. Who knows, now that my already-crazy schedule just became crazier.

  “With 80s guy?”

  I laugh. “He has a name, Lyns.”

  “I know, but I can’t remember it thanks to this stupid 102-degree fever.” She has another coughing fit. “Okay, I’m dying.”

  “You are. Take your meds and go to bed.”

  “You have my schedule?”

  “I’m pulling it up right now.”

  “Why don’t you take Macy with you this afternoon?”

  “You think I can’t handle a groomsmen fitting?”

  “I know you can, but she’s been asking for more responsibility. She could use the experience.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll take care of everything. Feel better.”

  After a short meeting with the girls to delegate some duties, I contact a few of our clients to let them know that Lynsey’s out of commission for the next couple days and to contact me if they have any questions. This afternoon, she has a groomsmen fitting for the Martinez-Lynch wedding at Forever Formals. I check the file, but the only phone number on the account is the bride’s. I give Juliana a call, leaving a voice mail to let her know that I’ll be at the fitting instead of Lynsey, and that I look forward to meeting her fiancé. Grooms are notoriously MIA during the planning process, but according to Lyns, this man has been particularly uninvolved. Unfortunately for Mr. Lynch, he’s the groom, and the groom needs a tux, so today, he gets to be involved.

  The rest of the morning is one catastrophe after another. There’s an accident downtown that forces me to cancel a meeting with a vendor. That delay makes me late for a consultation with the mayor’s daughter. By lunch time, I’m frazzled and exhausted and so totally done with this day.

  Then I think about Caleb, and everything’s right in my world once again.

  Last night was one of the most incredible nights of my life. My conscience tries to rain on my parade, whispering that I’m falling too fast for someone I barely know, but my heart’s just too happy to listen.

  “You’re smiling,” Macy says as we walk into Forever Formals.

  I play dumb. “Am I?”

  “You are.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  Macy laughs. “I’m just surprised. Whenever we have a shit day like today, you’re not usually this happy.”

  “Maybe I’m happy because we’re only fifteen minutes late for this fitting. I mean, on a day like today, that’s a record.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. I think a man’s involved.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I wave at the sales associate and wait while she calls the store manager. “Besides, I’m your boss. It would be completely unprofessional of me to confirm or deny that I’ve met someone.”

  “I knew it!” she whispers excitedly.

  The manager finally appears, saving me from embarrassing myself any further.

  “My beautiful Skye.”

  Antonio kisses me on each cheek. I’ve been his beautiful Skye since the wedding of the governor’s daughter that gave his store a full-page spread in Southern Bride. Professional connections are important in the bridal business, and that extravagant ceremony brought both of our businesses a lot of publicity.

  I introduce Macy, but Antonio’s too busy scrutinizing my face to notice her.

  “Something’s different,” he says.

  “There’s a man,” Macy whispers.

  Now he notices her. “A man?”

  She’s so fired.

  Antonio takes my hand. “My beautiful Skye has finally met someone. We’ll be planning your wedding next!”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I grumble. “Are the guys here yet?”

  “They’re in the dressing rooms. Follow me.”

  Suddenly all business, Antonio leads us to the back of the shop. As we walk through the racks of dresses, I notice a new shipment of bridal gowns, and I stop to admire the beading on one of the designs. My skin prickles, and when I turn around, I find Antonio and Macy both smiling at me.

  “Yes?”

  Macy sighs softly. I watch Antonio wipe a pretend tear from his eye.

  “It’s not for me!” I glare at them and continue my way toward the men’s section. When we get there, we see two guys standing in front of the mirrors with one of Antonio’s sales associates. I gasp when I recognize one of them.

  It’s Jesse—Caleb’s friend. The bartender and singer from The Boombox.

  His eyes lock with mine in the mirror, and his face flashes with shock.

  Weird.

  “Hey, Jesse. Fancy meeting you here.”

  He looks over his shoulder.

  “Umm . . . hey. Skye, right?”

  “Right. That suit looks great.”

  Is he the groom? It’s terrible that I can’t remember Juliana’s fiancé’s first name. Then again, fittings are Lynsey’s department. I rarely deal with the groom until the night of the rehearsal.

  “Do you work here?” Jesse asks, shifting his eyes toward the dressing rooms once again.

  “No. I’m the wedding planner.”

  He goes pale.

  “You’re . . . the wedding planner.”

  “I am. Are one of you guys the groom?”

  Jesse shakes his head. “I’m the best man.”

  “And I’m the groomsman,” the second guy says with a smile that’s probably intended to be sexy but really just looks creepy. “I’m Dane.”

  “The groom—Mr. Lynch—is still changing,” Antonio says dreamily.

  I grin. Apparently the groom’s a hottie.

  Dane nudges Jesse’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  Jesse takes a deep breath. I’m really concerned about his color. I actually think he might puke on Antonio’s beautiful carpet.

  “This is Skye. She’s the . . . the wedding planner.”

  “The smokin’ hot wedding planner,” Dane says with a wink.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

  “What the hell’s taking him so long back there?” Dane asks irritably.

  Good question.

  “If you guys are ready, Antonio and his associate can take your measurements while we wait for Mr. Lynch.”

  Jesse looks like he wants to bolt for the door, but Antonio already has the measuring tape out. The sales associate shouts out numbers while Macy adds notes to the file on her tablet. We like to keep a record of the measurements, along with the designer’s information, just in case we run into problems later.

  The sales girl is getting ready to measure Jesse’s inseam when a familiar voice echoes from the dressing room.

  “Why can’t I get this damn tie straight?”

  Caleb?

  Jesse utters a curse just as Caleb walks out of the dressing room.

  “Isn’t the groom delicious?” Antonio whispers in my ear.

  The groom.

  Caleb.

  Caleb’s the groom.

  I’m paralyzed by a tidal wave of emotions.

  I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

  Then Caleb’s eyes find mine in the mirror.

  His face—the same handsome face I saw when I first opened my eyes this morning—is staring at me with a look of absolute panic.

  Dane chuckles and slaps Caleb on the back. “Dude, you guys neglected to tell me that your wedding planner is drop-dead gorgeous.”

  Caleb says nothing. He just stands there, one hand on his dangling tie, gazing at me with a look so heartbreaking that I almost feel sorry for him.

  Almost.

  Despite my bewilderment, I square my shoulders and hold my head high. I can break down later. I can cry later. But I’m a professional, and right now, I have a job to do.

  I take a deep breath to keep myself from puking before I walk
toward the groom.

  The groom.

  With trembling hands, I take the tie and avoid his gaze while robotically tying it into a perfect knot.

  “You’re not Lynsey,” he whispers shakily.

  “Lynsey’s my partner. She has the flu.”

  “Skye . . .”

  I finally allow myself to look into his blue eyes. There’s pain there—deep, agonizing pain that rips my heart into a million pieces.

  But I’m a professional.

  “Your tie’s fixed, Mr. Lynch.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t give a shit about the tie. You’re a . . . you’re a wedding planner?”

  “Even better. I’m your wedding planner.”

  “Skye, you have to let me—”

  “The groom is ready to be measured, Antonio,” I announce calmly.

  Slowly, I turn around and walk toward Dane. While pretending to be very interested in the length of his jacket sleeves, I can feel Caleb’s eyes on me, but I ignore him as the final adjustments are made and the measurements are noted.

  “We’ll have the final fitting next month?” Antonio asks.

  I nod and send a quick text to Lynsey, letting her know about the next scheduled appointment. I also tell her I’m officially off this account, to which I receive a frantic reply that I’ll deal with later—after I’ve consumed a lot of wine and beat the shit out of something.

  I leave Macy to finish up with Antonio as I excuse myself and quickly make my way toward the nearest exit. Without warning, a pair of strong arms wrap around me, lifting me from the ground and pulling me toward his chest.

  “Don’t touch me, Caleb Lynch!”

  “You have to let me explain,” he murmurs frantically against my ear. “Please, Skye . . . please let me explain.”

  His voice aches with desperation, but right now, it has zero effect on me. I’m mortified. I’m heartbroken. I’m stupid. And I have to get away from him before I totally fall apart, because there’s no way in hell I’m going to let him watch me cry.

  I struggle until he lets me spin around in his arms.

  “Are you engaged?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. This is a yes or no question. Are. You. Engaged?”

  His face contorts with fear and frustration, and I have my answer.