by Sydney Logan
“Just tomorrow morning?”
“Maybe every morning.”
I grab a tank top out of my drawer and turn around, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. When I’m finished changing, I look over to find Caleb already in my bed and under the blanket. We gaze at each other until both of us laugh.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” he asks.
“I just . . . I can’t believe you’re here.”
His smile is heartbreakingly tender as he reaches his hand out to me.
“Come lay with me.”
I slowly walk over and place my hand in his. With a gentle tug, he pulls me down on top of him. Caleb’s arms encircle me as our bodies align, and we sigh as we melt into one another. He kisses me then, soft and sweet, and I slide down, nestling my head on his chest. While his fingers slide through my hair, I know I’ve never felt more cherished or loved in my entire life.
Suddenly, I’m crying.
“Hey, what’s this?”
I look up into his handsome face. “Nothing, I’m just such a girl.”
He smirks. “I have to admit that’s the first thing I noticed about you. That and your gorgeous green eyes. But that doesn’t explain why you’re crying.”
I sigh as he tenderly wipes my tears away.
“Just an emotional day.”
“You know what we need? We need music.”
With a smile, I point to my dresser.
“See that boombox? There’s a cassette in there with your name on it.”
He grins and sprints out of bed. As soon as he presses play, the room is filled with Journey’s Faithfully.
“I wondered if you got it,” he says, climbing back under the covers.
“You never mentioned it.”
“I didn’t know what to say. Besides, when was I supposed to bring it up? When we were picking out china for your fake wedding? Seemed inappropriate.”
“But you like it?”
“I love it. I listen to it every night.”
Caleb holds me close as we listen to song after song. I’ve nearly drifted off to sleep when he whispers in my ear.
“Everything’s going to be okay now.”
“No matter what?”
His fingers lace with mine.
“No matter what.”
I’m on the phone with a caterer when Lynsey walks in, slams my office door, and shoots me an icy glare. At least she has the professional courtesy to stay quiet while I finish the call.
“That’s right, Noelle. Two hundred guests at the Colonial Room. Email me some sample menus and we’ll see what works. Thanks.”
She waits an entire two seconds before opening her mouth.
“What the hell, Skylar Grace?”
Oh, the full name. Must be serious.
I smile sweetly at my partner. “Good morning, Lynsey. What’s crawled up your ass?”
“Would you mind explaining to me why Juliana Martinez is sitting in our lobby . . . with an appointment to discuss bridesmaids’ dresses? Robyn said you added it to the calendar, but that can’t be true because we’ve already ordered those dresses—an order we need to cancel because Juliana’s not getting married. So why is she here?”
It’s been a week, and I still haven’t given Lynsey the full story. Quite frankly, I’ve wanted to avoid a situation like this one.
I take a deep breath. “Lynsey, it’s a long stor—”
“You caved!”
“I compromised.”
“What’s the difference?”
I press the intercom button and ask Robyn to show Juliana to the small conference room.
“Lyns, I’m not discussing this with you until you calm down. It’s my life, and I know what I’m doing.”
“What are you doing?”
“Right now, I’m going to the conference room to help Juliana pick out fabric for the dresses. Mrs. Martinez has decided she wants black.”
“Funny, she wanted pastel pink two months ago. What changed?”
Everything.
“She thinks black will look elegant. I’ve already contacted the bridal shop to see if a color change is even possible. They said they’d do it, but we have to get the order in this week.”
I’m almost to the door when Lynsey reaches for my arm. Her eyes are full of hurt.
“Why, Skye? Why are you doing this?”
I blink back tears. It seems I’m not so brave when I’m not in Caleb’s arms. We’ve spent every night together this week, and while I feel loved and reassured at night, I’m having trouble keeping my sanity during the day.
“Later,” I whisper, hoping she’ll let it go for now so that I can get through this meeting.
To my great relief she does.
Lynsey heads to her office, and I force a smile as I walk down the hall and toward the small conference room. Through the glass wall, I see Robyn pouring coffee. She’s already placed a giant book of swatches on the table.
“Tea for you, Skye?”
“Yes, thanks.” I smile and sit down next to Juliana. “Good morning. Would you like a muffin or danish?”
She nervously clears her throat. “No, thank you. I don’t think I could eat if I tried.”
Same here.
“I hope everything’s okay. Your mom’s home, right?”
“She is. The memory loss is . . . well, it’s still there. But otherwise she’s doing okay.”
“I’m glad.”
“Can I get you anything else?” Robyn asks.
“I think we’re good. Thanks, Robyn.”
Juliana waits until the receptionist is out of the room before turning her wide eyes to me.
“Skye, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. This was my decision.”
“I couldn’t believe it when Caleb called. I don’t know if I could do what you’re doing. You’re planning my wedding, for heaven’s sake. It seems . . . cruel. I don’t want to be cruel. To Caleb or to you.”
“This was my decision. I’m at peace with it.”
It’s a lie. She knows it’s a lie, but she thanks me, anyway.
I open up the book of swatches. “I talked to the bridal shop. They’re willing to let us change the color of the dresses, but we have to decide today. I’ve marked a few I think you might like.”
“Skye, you know I don’t care about any of this. I’m just here to keep up appearances. Why don’t you just pick the one you like?”
“I’ve done enough of that. And this is not my wedding.”
Her eyes brim with tears.
“Skye . . .”
“I’m sorry. I . . . really think you should choose. Your mom will ask. I’m sure she’ll want to know the fabric and style. You would assume black is black, but there are various shades and textures.” I’m talking too fast. My hands tremble as I turn the page. “I . . . I would recommend satin or chif—”
“Skye, are you okay?”
“Or . . . maybe . . . maybe chiffon?”
My chest tightens and my vision blurs. What’s wrong with me?
“Excuse me,” I whisper shakily.
Rushing out of the conference room, I race through the lobby and out into the cool Nashville air. I close my eyes as I try to control my breathing, willing my body to calm down. After a few minutes, my heart rate slows and my muscles unclench. I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the panicky feeling that vanished just as quickly as it appeared.
When I feel steady enough, I walk back into the office.
“Skye?” Robyn asks when I pass her desk.
“I’m fine.”
She nods and I head back to the room. Juliana’s still there, watching me closely as I walk over to the table.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just needed some air, I think.” I smooth my skirt and sit back down next to her. “So, what do you think?”
“Skye, this is ridiculous.”
“Please just pick one.”
Keep it togethe
r, Skye.
Juliana eyes me strangely and points to a random swatch.
“Great.”
I make a note of the item number just as Lynsey walks through the door. Behind her is a tall, broad-shouldered man with surfer-blonde hair. A portfolio is tucked beneath his arm.
Juliana springs out of her seat. “Deacon!”
Deacon?
Lynsey smiles brightly. “I am so sorry to interrupt, but Deacon saw Juliana through the glass and just had to say hello.”
But Juliana and Deacon are totally ignoring us. He drops his portfolio on the table and swings her into his arms like they’re long lost lovers.
“What are you doing in town?” she asks excitedly. “I thought you were on assignment in London?”
“We wrapped earlier than expected. I arrived in town last night.”
Juliana’s practically bouncing. “My roommate and I just watched a documentary you shot in the Australian outback. It was amazing.”
Roommate. Not fiancé.
Interesting.
“Thanks,” Deacon says with a wide grin. “I’m headed to the Smoky Mountains, but I wanted to stop by and show some samples to Lynsey. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you through the glass.”
“He practically knocked me down to get in here,” Lynsey whispers as she sits down next to me.
I lean close to her ear. “Who is he?”
“Deacon Reese. Works for National Geographic. He’s thinking of freelancing, and we’re always looking for photographers. I told him to drop by and leave his book.”
“Shooting a wedding’s a little different than shooting the Australian outback.”
“I know, but he says he’s ready for something different, and his online portfolio looks incredible. He’s originally from Nashville.” Lynsey nods toward the two of them. “It seems he and Juliana met at that photographer’s conference she went to last month. It also seems like they really hit it off.”
It would seem so. His arms are still wrapped around her.
Deacon tells Juliana all about shooting Big Ben and Buckingham Palace while Lynsey and I sit at the table like a couple of eavesdropping idiots. It seems rude to just walk out.
Not that they’d notice.
“Maybe we should let him shoot Juliana’s wedding,” Lynsey murmurs. “Better yet, let him be the groom.”
I kick her under the table. Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling Deacon has no clue that the woman in his arms is engaged.
We watch them with fascination until they finally remember we’re in the room.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Juliana’s face flushes with embarrassment. “Skye, have you met Deacon?”
With a smile, I stand up and offer him my hand. “Not officially, no. It’s nice to meet you, Deacon. I look forward to seeing your work.”
“I appreciate you taking the time. I know a nature photographer is probably the last person you’d expect to be interested in weddings. I’m just . . . needing a change of scenery, so to speak. Plus, my parents are getting older, and I’ve been on the road a lot the past couple years. I’d like to work closer to home, and I thought freelancing might offer some new opportunities.”
Lynsey smiles. “We’re always looking for photographers, especially local ones. We can’t wait to see your book.”
“Thank you.” Deacon offers her his leather portfolio and his business card before turning his attention back to Juliana. “Are you dropping off some samples, too?”
Juliana nervously glances my way.
“We were actually just wrapping up when you walked in.” I smile at Juliana and offer her my hand. “Thanks for stopping by. Please expect to hear from us soon.”
Juliana clears her throat and plays along. She takes my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you, Skye. I look forward to it.”
Deacon and Juliana walk out together, and somehow, Lynsey and I make it until they’re out in the parking lot before we start giggling like teenage girls. When all you’ve done is cry for the past month, laughter really is the best medicine.
Lynsey wipes her eyes. “It’s official. Your life is a soap opera.”
I can’t deny it. It’s like our hearts are part of a gigantic puzzle and none of us know how to make the pieces fit. It’s obvious how they should fit, but making them correspond is driving us all to the brink of madness. Deacon Reese is the newest puzzle piece, and the poor guy has no idea.
When our laughter finally subsides, Lynsey notices the book of fabric swatches.
“Black, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Black can be elegant. Mrs. Martinez is right about that.”
I nod.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
With a heavy sigh, I turn to my best friend.
“We thought we had it all figured out. Juliana and Caleb told her the truth. Caleb said Mrs. Martinez was understanding and forgiving. A few hours later, she fainted. When she woke up, she had no memory of the conversation. I was standing by her bedside at the hospital, and she was talking to me about black bridesmaid dresses. It was so strange, Lyns. She even remembered the caterer’s name.”
Lynsey narrows her eyes. “The caterer we picked two months ago?”
I nod. “She even remembered the cucumber sandwiches she had for lunch that afternoon.”
“But she couldn’t recall the fact that her daughter’s wedding is a hoax?”
I shake my head.
“That’s . . . convenient, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on, Skye. I can’t even remember who we chose for a caterer. This woman remembered his name and the cucumber sandwiches she ate for lunch, but she has no memory of her daughter telling her the wedding’s off? Give me a break.”
“You weren’t there, Lynsey. You didn’t see the look on her face . . . the happiness that shined in her lifeless eyes when she started talking about this wedding.”
“I’m sure it was something to behold. I think Mrs. Martinez is quite the actress.”
“Stop it.”
Shaking my head, I gather my notes and head straight to my office. Lynsey follows me and plops down on my couch.
“We need to talk about this, Skye.”
“No, Lynsey. I am not going to talk to you about this anymore. That sweet woman is dying. Do you get that? She’s dying.”
“I do get that, and I’m sorry she’s sick. I’m just not sure how sweet she really is.”
“None of us have been saints in this situation. We’re all a big bunch of liars.”
“I know, but I’m beginning to think Luisa Martinez is the most conniving one of all.”
I can’t believe this. “When did you become such a cold-hearted bitch?”
Lynsey’s eyes flash with hurt.
“Right. I’m the cold-hearted bitch.”
“Lyns—”
She walks over to the door. “I’m going back to my office to flip through Deacon’s portfolio. You go right ahead and order those black dresses.”
“The doctor says the memory loss could be temporary,” I mumble.
“It won’t be! I guarantee that particular lapse in memory will be a permanent one.”
Tears swim in my eyes as I stare at my computer screen. How can she be so heartless and cruel?
She’s almost out the door when she stops and turns to face me. Her voice is soft and low.
“God forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’d bet my entire life savings that Mrs. Martinez remembers every single detail of that conversation. She wants this wedding so much that she’s willing to manipulate everyone around her. All of you are letting her get away with it, and my best friend is getting screwed in the process. If that makes me a cold-hearted bitch, then so be it.”
She slams the door as she leaves.
I’m walking around the music room when I notice Eli having trouble with a chord.
“Hey, Eli. Need some help?”
He nods, so I sit down next to
him and show him the correct pattern for the B7. It’s a tough one, especially for the hand of a ten-year-old guitarist.
“This sucks,” he says with a groan.
“It’s not the easiest chord. Even for adults.”
With a heavy sigh, he tries again. His frustration surprises me. I know he’s just a kid, but Eli’s usually more patient with himself.
“Caleb, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one’s listening.
“Do you, uh . . . ever get sick of practicing?”
I have a feeling that’s not what he really wants to talk about, but I play along.
“When I was your age, yeah. Practice isn’t a whole lot of fun.”
“So why do it?”
I nod toward his guitar. “May I?”
Eli hands me his instrument and watches closely while I place my fingers on the fret board. I strum the chord, and his eyes light up.
“That’s why you practice. Because someday, you’ll come across a song with that chord, and you’ll be proud of yourself when you can play it.”
He nods thoughtfully and watches my fingers as I shift between chords.
“Caleb?”
“Yeah?”
“You really like Aunt Skye, right?”
“I love her.”
“I don’t really understand how love’s supposed to work.”
Maybe his frustration isn’t about the chord after all. Maybe it’s a girl.
“I’m not really an expert on love, either. I just know how happy your aunt makes me.”
“My parents used to love each other. Now all they do is fight.”
Not a girl.
“Sometimes that happens with adults.”
“They fall out of love?”
With a nod, I give him a sympathetic smile and hand him his guitar. He half-heartedly works on the chord. I feel bad for the kid. Obviously he needs to talk about this, but I don’t know much about his parents’ situation. Maybe I should text Skye.
“Do they fall out of love with their kids, too?”
The boy’s voice is just a whisper, but the pain is undeniable.
“Your parents love you, Eli.”
He shrugs. “Dad works all the time.”
“You miss him.”
He shrugs again. It’s a typical kid response, but it kills me that he’s feeling this way.
