The words are automated. A knee-jerk nicety, as all my thoughts are shot down midflight.
“Aw, Gracie! Look at you getting all choked up. That means a lot,” he says, like he has no recollection of my own dreams of having kids with him someday. To create the stable, affectionate family I never had myself. He smiles, and the first spark of anger in my chest feels like a flame trying to catch in a drizzle.
“Brookey is only a few weeks along,” he goes on, “but she wants to tie the knot before she pops. She’s got areallyconservative family.” He grimaces, and I consider ending the call in protest to that nauseating nickname alone. “A big wedding is important to her, so…” His voice softens. “It’s important to me, too."
It’s too much. His audacity is beyond the pale, and before I can stop myself, the words slip past my defenses in a quiet tremor of hurt and disbelief. “Is this some kind of cruel joke?”
He looks aghast. “Gracie, no. God, of course not. I didn’t mean to—” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“You didn’t mean to what?” I demand as anger begins to burn through my shock. “Ask the ex you completely ghosted toplan your wedding?”
To his credit, he looks appropriately ashamed.
“Gracie, please,” he implores. “I’m sorry. I know you’re the last person I should be asking, but I’ve never met anyone as organized or creative as you. You’re the only person I know who could pull this off, and I’m desperate.”
At his flattery, the old, familiar urge to please him rears its head again like a Whac-A-Mole dummy I’m too slow for. This time, it takes more effort to remember that heknowsI’ve never been able to say no to him. But even I can recognize that what he’s asking is ridiculous to the point of absurd. There isn’t a wedding planner in the universe who’d be willing to take on a two-month timeline.
Patience finally snapping, I say, “Why don’t you just elope? I’m sure there’s an Elvis out there more than happy to do the job.”
Calvin shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Brooke’s parents would never forgive us, and I won’t have them shaming my wife.”
My wife. It’s another spear to the chest, but at this point, I’m basically an Edible Arrangement sans the fruit. What’s one more barren skewer to the heart?
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, half to Calvin, half to myself.
He shakes his head and leans forward. “Listen,” he says desperately. “I know I fucked things up between you and me. I ran away when I shouldn’t have, and you didn’t deserve it. But neither does Brooke, and neither… neither does my kid.” He stares deep into my eyes, vulnerable in a way he’s never been with me before, and my heart turns over like an engine failing to start. “I love her, Gracie. I love them both, and I want to do this right.Please, help me get it right this time. You’re my only hope.”
I swallow around the softball lodged at the back of my throat as misguided sympathy renders me speechless. He’s asking too much. I have enough on my plate as it is without the added trauma of helping him marry the woman I’d hoped to be one day. Of course I’ll say no. I have to.
But at his desperate face, careful compliments, and the first hint of an apology I’ve ever gotten from him, I’m somehownotmashing the End Call button when I know I should. Instead, I’m biting my lip, losing a desperate fight against the ingrained urge to avoid disappointing anyone—including Calvin and his pregnant fiancée, who only want the same things I’ve always wanted.Safety. Security. Happily Ever After.
Already, justifications for my bad decision are swirling in my mind. Haven’t romance novels taught me that everyone deserves a happy ending, even if they’ve made mistakes? Calvin and Brooke are never going to find another wedding planner or venue willing to work with this timeline. I honestly don’t even know if I’d be able to pull it off. I let out a caged breath. I need to say no, and yet—
“Can you give me a few days to think about it?”
His blond head pops up like a meerkat’s. “Yes! Of course! Gracie, you have no idea what this—”
“I haven’t said yes,” I tell him. “I need to check my calendar and… things.” And bythings, I mean my sanity.
“That’s fine, take all the time you need. I mean, don’t take too long.” He laughs nervously. “But thank you, Gracie. From Brookey, too.”
I repress the urge to gag. “Goodbye, Calvin.”
I end the call and promptly collapse against the cold stone wall. I close my eyes and hear a cheer go up, like 150 people are applauding my idiocy.The ceremony is over. From pure muscle memory, I press my earpiece and check in with Mark and Phoebe. When they give me confirmation that they’re ready, I know I’ve got approximately two minutes to pull myself together before I need to make a thousand carefully timed details flow seamlessly together.
I crack open my tear-stung eyes, telling myself to stand up straight, only to find Agatha striding toward me in a fury of pink. I expect a reprimand. Maybe a small slap to the face. But instead, she pulls me from the wall herself and hugs me. The scent of Chanel No. 5 engulfs me, and I let out a small sob.
When she whispers into my hair, her voice is soft. “That man deserves castration.”
I gulp down a small laugh. “Agatha, don’t—”
She pulls back to hold me at arm’s length. Her dark eyes scan my face as she purses her bright red lips together. “But you’re still going to help him, aren’t you?”
When I don’t confirm or deny it, her face softens. “Well, he was right about one thing. Youarekind. A little too kind for your own good sometimes.”
“I could tell him no if you’re against it. I could tell him we’re completely booked,” I say, even as the guilt I know I shouldn’t feel begins slinking through me.
“The decision is yours, Gracie. Larkwood is open to them, but only because I think this might give you the closure you need. If you do this, youhaveto promise me you’ll try to move on.”
