by Sydney Logan
“You have some sauce . . .” He takes his fingertip and trails it across the corner of my mouth. My skin tingles as he lingers there, his eyes burning into mine.
“I think the raspberry,” he whispers roughly.
“Definitely the raspberry.”
Caleb lets his finger ghost across my lips, and our faces inch closer.
“How are we doing back there?” Pierre shouts from the front of the bakery, breaking the spell. “Has our groom made a choice?”
“There is no choice,” Caleb murmurs, and my heart pounds, because I know he’s not talking about the cake.
Taking a deep breath, I lean back, putting some distance between us, just as Pierre approaches the table.
“He likes the raspberry, Pierre.”
“Excellent. How many tiers?”
“Six.”
“And for the groom’s cake?”
I look to Caleb for an answer, stupidly hoping that maybe he’ll say screw the cakes because the wedding’s off. But his face is stone. And his mouth isn’t moving.
“He doesn’t have a preference. Just something without peanuts. He’s allergic.”
Pierre’s eyes grow wide. “Lynsey did not tell me—”
“No worries. He didn’t touch it. That sample will be going home with me.”
“Very good,” Pierre says, sighing with relief. “We can place this order today?”
I don’t even glance in Caleb’s direction. Why bother?
“Yes, Pierre. We can place the order today.”
He boxes up the leftovers and sends us on our way. The two of us are silent as he walks me to my car. After carefully placing the box in my back seat, I turn around to tell him goodbye when he takes my hand.
“Have coffee with me.”
“No, Caleb.”
He steps closer, gently pinning me against my car door.
“Tell me what you want, Skye.”
A whimper escapes my throat when he frames my face with his hands. I’ve missed his touch—and him—so much.
“I want you, Caleb. I want all of you. And you can’t give that to me.”
He sighs sadly and presses his forehead to mine. “I wish you could understand.”
“I wish you could, too.”
I have to get out of here before I fall apart. His expression is unbearable when I gently pull his hands away from my face. His stormy blue eyes are shattered and broken. I’m sure they mirror my own.
“The flowers. The emails. The voice mails. They have to stop.”
“You don’t like them?”
“I love them.”
“Then why—”
“Because you’re breaking my heart every single day and I can’t take it anymore.”
He reaches for me again, but I push him away.
“You have to let me go, Caleb.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how.”
“Figure it out. If you care about me at all, you’ll figure it out.”
Without another word, I quickly climb into my car. I force myself not to look in the rearview mirror as I drive away.
Stomping into the office, I head straight to Lynsey’s door. It’s open, and she’s on the phone. Because I’m a professional, I wait until she hangs up before unleashing my fury.
“I hate you! Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
Robyn looks stunned as I rush to my office, letting the door slam behind me. I collapse in my desk chair and gaze tearfully at the flowers on my windowsill.
They have to go.
I hit the intercom and ask Robyn to bring me a garbage bag. She walks in seconds later, wide-eyed and cautious.
“No more flower deliveries. If they’re for me, you refuse them. Understood?”
She nods and slips out of the room just as Lynsey walks in. I grab each vase of daisies and shove them into the bag.
“What the hell, Skye?”
“You tell me! How could you do that to me? How?”
“Get used to it.”
I shoot her a glare. “What does that mean?”
“It’s the wedding of the year. I’m going to need your help.”
“I told you to use Macy.”
“Oh, I will. I’ll need all the girls. But you’re my partner, and this is business. I’ve never directed a wed—”
“If you think I’m directing this wedding, you have seriously lost your mind.”
“You’re going to do more than direct. You’re going to help me plan it. From scratch.”
I fall into my chair. “What do you mean from scratch?”
“Juliana thinks we need to . . . re-evaluate some things. So we’re starting from scratch. I’m talking the gown, the napkins, the menu. Everything’s changing, and we’re in charge.”
“Why the hell are we starting from scratch? Why does it matter?”
Lynsey shrugs and leans against my desk.
“Did you guys choose a cake, by the way?”
I narrow my eyes. “I will never forgive you for that.”
“I know, but did you?”
“He picked the raspberry. I . . . might have talked him into it.”
Lynsey smiles. “Pierre’s raspberry has always been your favorite.”
“Yeah.”
“So here’s the deal. Fake or not, this is our biggest wedding of the year, and we are not letting this account slip through our fingers. We are professionals. We are going to put our feelings aside and plan this sham of a wedding. When it’s over, you and I will take our very large paychecks and go on vacation.”
“I don’t wanna go anywhere with you.”
“That’s fine, too.”
“I just don’t understand why we’re starting from scratch.”
“You will. In time. And you’ll thank us for it. So, clear your schedule for the next few weeks. You’re gonna be busy!”
I’m just about to tell her where she can stick my schedule when Robyn timidly walks into my office with a small white box.
“Sorry to interrupt. Package for you, Skye.”
“Thanks.”
Needing something to do with my hands before I strangle my best friend, I tear into the box. Inside, I find a clear cassette tape.
“What the . . .” Lynsey peers at the tape as I carefully place it on my desk. “Is that a cassette? Do they still make those? Who would send you that?”
There’s only one person on the planet that would send me a cassette tape. But it’s not just a cassette. The label assures me it’s much, much more.
LISTEN TO YOUR HEART
Love, Caleb
I turn it over and scan the playlist. Bon Jovi. Poison. Madonna. Michael. Whitney. Rick Springfield. Journey. Culture Club. Roxette. Bryan Adams.
Caleb Lynch has made me an 80s mixtape.
Lynsey’s mouth drops open when she reads the label.
“Please tell me you have a boombox.”
“Of course I do.”
She snorts. “Of course you do. Go home immediately. Pop that baby into the cassette player, and do exactly what it says on that label.”
Listen to your heart.
If only it was that easy.
“No, Juliana.”
“Yes, Caleb. More juice?”
I wondered why I woke up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. Now I know. She sits down with me at the island and asks me to pass the syrup.
“I thought you already picked out a dress?”
“Apparently, there’s a problem with that particular gown, and I told you . . .”
“You’re not making any decisions, I know.”
Jules smiles sweetly and checks her cell. While she plays on her phone, I finish my breakfast and try to find a way to get out of this appointment.
I have to hand it to her. Juliana Martinez is a woman of her word. She hasn’t made one decision about this wedding during the past two weeks. That’s all been up to me.
And Skye, ironically enough.
Lately, my life is filled with teaching during the day
and wedding planning at night. For most guys, this would be hell on earth, but it’s hard to complain because it means I get to spend time with her. I’m almost positive things like flowers and dresses were finalized long ago, but suddenly I’m making those decisions . . . with Skye.
What’s funny is that I’m still not really doing anything. What the hell do I know about china patterns and wedding registries? So, I just watch Skye and wait for her face to light up. And that’s what I pick.
For someone who prefers to deal with the schedule instead of the finer details of the day, Skye certainly has her opinions about the ceremony. In the process, I’ve learned so much about her. Like me, she prefers small weddings to lavish affairs. She likes finger foods instead of formal, sit-down dinners, and—when it comes to the music—she’d rather have a rock band instead of an orchestra.
Skye’s low-key and chill and perfect for me in every single way imaginable.
There are moments when I catch her looking at me, and I feel it . . . that pulsating electricity that flows so naturally between us. Despite everything, it’s still there, like a dormant volcano just waiting to erupt. But there are other moments—like when she shows up at the appointment only to find me there—when I see the melancholy in her eyes. She’s a pro, so she hides it well, but I know how much I’m hurting her by continuing with this circus. For whatever reason, Lynsey is MIA, leaving her best friend to deal with me and my shit.
Again, it’s hard to complain, but the last thing I want to do is hurt her more than I already have.
While Jules remains adamant that the wedding is off, she has no problem sending me to one appointment after another. But today, I’m supposed to pick a wedding gown, and Lynsey, for once, is taking pity on her best friend and meeting me there. Still, it’s ridiculous. I mean, as the groom, shouldn’t this be the one appointment I’m allowed to skip?
There has to be a way I can get out of this.
“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the dress?”
Juliana looks up from her phone. “Umm . . . I don’t know. I better ask.”
She types something.
“Who are you texting at seven o’clock in the morning?”
“Nobody.”
Then I hear a ping. Nobody my ass.
“Ah, okay. It’s only bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Seeing the dress is just untraditional.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to be untraditional,” I mutter. “Don’t you have to try it on or something? This is stupid.”
To my enormous relief, she agrees. “You know what? You’re right. I guess this is one decision I can’t leave to you and you alone.”
“You’re all heart, Jules.”
I thank her for breakfast and grab my briefcase. I’m almost to the door when she tells me she’ll meet me at the dress shop at four o’clock.
“What? Why am I still going?”
“Because I want your opinion.”
“Since when do you care about my opinion?”
“Since now.”
I’m running late and don’t have time to argue with her anymore. At least she’s not making me go by myself.
“Whatever. Text me the address.”
She promises she will, and I head off to work.
At 3:45 sharp, I take a deep breath before making my way inside the bridal shop. Not surprisingly, the place is full of ruffles and lace and I have no business being here at all. Because I have no idea where to go, I head straight to the counter.
“May I help you?” the lady asks.
Suddenly, my cell vibrates in my pocket.
“Just a second.” I fish my phone out and check the message.
Can’t make it. Don’t leave. You and Lynsey pick whatever you want. ~J
What the hell? If Jules isn’t coming, there’s certainly no reason for me to stay. What do I know about wedding gowns?
“Sir?”
“Change of plans. Thanks, anyway.”
“Are you Caleb Lynch?”
“Yes?”
“I thought so,” she says with a smile. “I was given a very detailed description. She failed to tell me how adorable you are, but I’ll forgive her.”
“She . . . who?”
The woman walks around the counter and loops her arm through mine. “Lynsey. She says I’m to take very good care of you. My name’s Tina. Would you come with me?”
Tina leads me through aisles of wedding gowns. It’s like a Minnesota blizzard—nothing but white as far as the eye can see. Suddenly, the ruffled seas part, and I find myself surrounded by full-length mirrors that reach from ceiling to floor.
“Just make yourself comfortable,” she says, pointing toward a chair.
Because I don’t know what else to do, I sit down. I’m just getting ready to send Jules a text when I feel her.
Her.
Then I look up, and I see her.
Skye’s standing on a raised platform, wearing a strapless wedding gown and gazing at herself in the mirror.
She doesn’t see me, but I see her.
And I’m knocked breathless.
I’m a guy. I know nothing about wedding dresses, but I know this one was created just for Skye. It clings to her curves and cascades down to her feet. The gown shimmers under the lights, and that fact that I just used the word shimmers to describe a dress proves that I’ve completely lost what little sanity I have left.
It’s now replaced with fear . . . spine-tingling, gut-wrenching fear.
It won’t be today. It might not even be this year. But someday, Skye will walk down the aisle, wearing a dress like that, and smiling that smile that haunts my dreams. She’ll recite vows and pledge her life to some man.
A man who didn’t ask her to wait for him.
It hits me like lightning, and suddenly, the chains I placed around my life and my heart completely crumble.
I love Skye. I love her.
And I am no longer bound by the promise I made to my best friend.
What an idiot I’ve been.
All she’d ever wanted was for me to put her first. In my mind and in my heart, she always had been, but my actions have proven otherwise.
That ends today.
“Caleb?”
I find her beautiful green eyes as they reflect back at me in the mirror. As I gaze into them, I see every mistake I’ve made. Every tear I’ve made her cry.
“Skye . . .”
Very slowly, she turns around on the platform, giving me the full view of her in the wedding dress. My chest constricts at the sight of her, because I know I’ve never seen anyone so breathtaking. I drown in the sight of her, and I never, ever want to come up for air.
“Our best friends are the two most conniving women I’ve ever met in my life.”
I can’t disagree. But they’re also geniuses, because they knew exactly what they were doing. They knew how I’d react to seeing Skye in this dress. I’m surrounded by beautiful, brilliant women, but the only one that matters is watching me with wide, weary eyes. Gorgeous and green, but so, so tired, and begging me to say something.
“I mean really, I should have known.” she says, continuing to babble. “Lynsey calls, saying she has a conflict. Then, Tina gets a call from Juliana saying she can’t make it and I should just pick something I like and let the seamstress take my measurements because she and I are so close to the same size . . .”
What a liar. Juliana’s at least six inches taller than Skye.
“So I figure why not? I’ve picked everything else for a wedding that’s not mine. Might as well pick the gown, too. I just wanted to get the measurements done and get out of here and why the hell aren’t you saying anything?”
Very slowly, I walk toward her. Skye’s eyes are filled with tears as she gazes down at me.
“You’re stunning. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m mortified.”
“And I’m in love.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as I reach fo
r her. She gasps softly when I brush my lips along the back of her hand. Stepping onto the platform, I gently wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close. She closes her eyes in defeat and melts against me.
“I love you, Skye. I love you, and I’m going to prove it to you.”
“Caleb, please . . .”
The urge to kiss her is so powerful it nearly causes my legs to buckle beneath me, but I know it can’t happen here. Not yet and not here. I have a mess to clean up, and I have to start now.
“I have to go, but I want to see you tonight. I shouldn’t be long, and then I’m coming to your apartment and we are going to have a very serious conservation about our future.”
I see indecision flicker across her face, but there’s something else there, too. She wants to believe me. She wants to trust me. So I say the one thing I know she needs to hear. And I mean it . . . more than I’ve ever meant anything.
“I love you, Skye, and I’m going to prove it. Tonight.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, and she sighs softly.
“Okay,” she whispers.
Jules is sitting at the island when I walk into the apartment. I close the door and walk over to my best friend.
“The wedding’s off.”
She jumps off the bar stool and hugs me tight.
“Thank God. It’s about time you came to your senses.”
Her eyes shine with tears as she pulls me to the couch.
“I love her, Jules.”
“I know you do. You’re both so stubborn. I was sure that working together on the gift registry would seal the deal, but Lynsey said it’d take something a little more dramatic. I bet she looked beautiful in that dress.”
“She looked . . . amazing. It was just the kick in the ass I needed. Skye’s right. You and Lynsey are the most devious women I’ve ever met.”
Juliana smiles proudly.
“Jules, I know it’s asking a lot, but could we . . .”
“Talk to my parents?”
I nod.
“Absolutely.”
“Could we do it now?”
She grins. “Impatient, are we?”
“Slightly.”
“I’ll talk to my dad.”
“I’m going with you.”
