by Sydney Logan
Her eyes widen. “Mr. Lynch?”
I nod. “Lynsey’s expecting me.”
“I’ll let her know you’re here. Won’t you have a seat?”
I thank her and find the first empty chair. Glancing around, I pray for a glimpse of Skye. I don’t even know if she’s here, but I hope she is. I just want to see her face. Just to make sure she’s okay.
“She’s not here.”
I look up to find myself staring into the eyes of a very pissed off blonde.
“Follow me, Mr. Lynch.”
Taking a deep breath, I follow her into her office. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I’m certainly not prepared to hear the words that greet me when she closes the door.
“I don’t know whether to kick your ass or welcome you to the family.”
“I know which one I’d prefer.”
Lynsey smirks and offers me a chair. I thank her and take a seat, nervously glancing around her office until I spot a picture frame on the desk. Behind the glass is a photo of Skye and Lynsey at someone’s wedding reception. I exhale a shaky breath and let my eyes linger on Skye’s beautiful face.
Lynsey sits on the edge of her desk. “That picture’s usually behind me, on my windowsill. I put it there on purpose. I wanted to see your reaction.”
I force myself to look away from the photograph and into the eyes of the short blonde woman who apparently holds my fate in her hands.
“And?”
She shrugs. “About what I expected, to be honest.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“Neither do I. Time will tell.”
“How is she? Is she here?”
“She’s meeting with a florist downtown. Do you honestly think I’d invite you here if I thought there was any chance the two of you might run into each other? She’d murder me if she even suspected I was talking to you.”
I nod in understanding. “How is she?”
“How do you think she is?”
“I think she hates me.”
Lynsey shakes her head. “This would be so much easier if that were true. But no. She’s embarrassed. Confused. Hurt. I’ve never seen her so hurt. She was with her last boyfriend for over a year and she wasn’t nearly this devastated when they ended things. I shouldn’t even be telling you that, but I think it’s important you realize the extent to which you’ve broken my best friend’s heart.”
I bow my head. “Would you believe me if I told you that I truly didn’t mean to?”
“I would. I’ve heard the ten thousand voice mails. Quite impressive.”
That means Skye’s listened to them, too. The thought makes me smile.
“I just want to talk to her, Lynsey. I want to make her understand. Everything just happened so fast. Any decision I make will hurt someone I love.”
“So you do love your fiancée.”
I can hear the disappointment in her voice.
“I do. Juliana’s my best friend. But I’m not in love with her. There’s so much you don’t know. Surely you’ve noticed that neither of us are particularly excited about this wedding.”
“I’ve noticed. Go on.”
I sigh heavily. “Okay, but this conversation can’t get back to Juliana’s parents. It’s very important that you continue planning the wedding as if nothing’s happened. We will be getting married in two months, just like we planned.”
I’m pretty sure I hear a growl escape from her tiny body.
“But we’re getting an annulment soon after.”
Lynsey frowns and slowly sits down in the chair next to me.
“All right, Caleb Lynch. Start talking.”
I spill my guts. The stage-four brain cancer. The grim prognosis. Every last detail. By the time I’m finished, Lynsey’s wiping tears off her cheeks. I’m surprised by how good it feels to tell someone, even though I’m not telling the person who needs to hear it the most.
“It’s a hoax,” she says with disbelief. “The entire wedding’s a sham.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why neither of you care about the details of the ceremony.”
I nod. “Honestly, I wanted to elope, but Luisa wouldn’t hear of it. You should see her face when she talks about the dress or the flowers or the stupid wedding favors. She absolutely lights up like the sun. If this charade of a marriage makes her happy for even one day, it’s worth it.”
With a quiet sigh, Lynsey stands up and walks over to the window.
“Skye was right,” she says softly.
“About what?”
“She said you’re not asshole. She’s right.”
I smile.
“You’re stupid, maybe. Misguided, definitely, but not an asshole.”
“I appreciate that. I think.”
“I could still choke you, though.”
“I understand.”
She sits down behind her desk. “I don’t think you do. You don’t realize how long it’s been since Skye opened her heart to anyone. And in a very short period of time, you managed to stomp all over it. You, with your 80s music and Dirty Dancing and making out on her couch. She’s crazy about you, and you are a total coward.”
Despite the tongue-lashing, I can’t help but grin.
“She’s crazy about me?”
This time, there’s no mistaking the growl that resonates from her throat.
“Sorry.”
“I don’t even know what to say. This is . . . horrible. What do the doctors say? I mean, how long does she have?”
“The original prognosis was six to eight months.”
“And where are we?”
“This is month number two.”
She nods and leans back in her chair, gazing at me with a look so sympathetic that it nearly breaks me. But I have to be strong, because Lynsey Evans is Skye’s best friend, and I know better than anyone how strong that bond can be.
Right now, my fate is in Lynsey’s hands.
“Tell me what to do, Lynsey.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Caleb. You have to understand that Skye’s faith in love was shaky at best even before you came along. I don’t know how she’ll handle this information. I really don’t.”
“Would she wait for me?”
“You mean would she wait for that poor woman to die just so that the two of you can be together?”
I take a shuddering breath.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t know, Caleb. What you’re doing for this woman is commendable, and maybe, if you’d been honest from the beginning . . . but I don’t know. I’m just not sure she could ever forgive that. And I really don’t know if she’ll want to be part of this charade.”
I bury my head in my hands and nod numbly.
“But, yes, she’s crazy about you, so let me see what I can do.”
My heart thunders in my chest. “Seriously? You’re going to help me?”
“I’m helping her. There’s a difference.”
“I’ll take it. I’ll do anything, Lynsey.”
She grins mischievously. “You might regret those words.”
“Anything,” I repeat firmly, and she nods.
“Okay. You need to talk to her. I’m going to try to make that happen. I’m making zero promises, Caleb.”
“Got it.”
“In the meantime, you need to woo.”
“Woo?”
“Woo. I’m talking pretty flowers, sappy texts. You’re a musician, right? You know how much she loves 80s music. Use that to your advantage. Continue with the voice mails because I know for a fact she’s listening to them. And email. It’s a wonderful invention and gives you the chance to really pour your heart out. Start using it. For flowers, I recommend Pansy at The Flower Pot. But do me a favor? Don’t tell her I sent you, just in case this blows up in our faces.”
She then gives me Skye’s email address and the number for the florist. I enter both into my phone.
“I really appreciate this, Lynsey.”
; “Don’t thank me yet. Skye’s very stubborn. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“Understood.”
She glances at her watch. “Okay, you’ve got to go. She’ll be back any minute.”
“Couldn’t I stay? I’d love to just—”
“No! Out the door. Now.”
I chuckle while she hustles me out of her office and all but drags me to the parking lot. To my great disappointment, Skye’s nowhere to be seen.
“Lynsey, can I ask a question?”
“You have exactly ten seconds.”
“Why are you helping me? Not that I’m not grateful.”
She sighs heavily. “I’m helping you because I’ve never seen my best friend as shattered as she’s been these past few days. I’m helping you because I sincerely believe you care about her. If I didn’t believe that, you’d be six feet under by now. I have connections, Lynch.”
I grin. I don’t doubt her for a second.
“Go write your sappy love songs and order your flowers. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you, Lynsey. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This may not work.”
“Thank you, anyway.”
Lynsey gives me her first real smile before heading back inside.
“Good morning, Robyn.” I smile sweetly at our receptionist. I’ve been less-than-friendly the past couple days, so I’m determined to make today a good one. Plus, it’s Friday. It’s hard to be a grouch on Fridays.
“Good morning,” she says, laughing nervously as she hands me my messages. “I really hope you took your allergy medicine this morning.”
What an odd thing to say.
“I . . . don’t have allergies.”
“Lucky for you.” She grins and leaps out of her chair, taking me by the hand and leading me to my office. When she opens the door, my eyes grow wide as I take in the scene before me.
Flowers. Wall to wall flowers.
And not just any flowers.
Daisies.
Lots of daisies.
“Holy crap.”
Robyn sighs dreamily.
“Good morning!” Lynsey chirps brightly from behind me.
I’m suddenly being shoved into my office where the fragrance of wildflowers overwhelms my senses and causes me to sneeze. Repeatedly.
Maybe I do need allergy medicine.
“Did we rob a florist?”
She nods in appreciation as she scans the room. “I have to hand it to him. The boy’s impressive.”
“What boy?” I weave my way through the labyrinth of daisies as I search for my desk. Yellow. Pink. White. Purple. Most are in vases. Some aren’t. A single daisy rests in my chair. I toss it onto the floor and fall into my seat.
“I really meant for him to spread the deliveries out a little, but this works, too.”
“What boy, Lyns?”
My best friend, who is only quiet when she sleeps, suddenly grows silent.
“Say something, Lynsey Evans.”
“Aren’t they gorgeous, Skye?”
“What did you do?”
“Maybe you should read the card.”
“Which card? They all have cards!”
She glances at a pile of pink daisies that currently take up residence on my couch. “So they do. All handwritten. And all with different messages. The boy’s good.”
“WHAT BOY?”
“Have you checked your email this morning?” Lynsey asks, darting around the room and snatching cards out of vases. “You should really do that.”
With a heavy sigh, I shove a bunch of daisies off my desk and open my laptop. I type in my password just as she carefully lays the cards on my desk, as if she’s offering me a precious gift from on high.
“Read your emails. Then read these.”
“Why do I have a feeling that I’m going to kill you today?”
“Never. You love me too much.” Lynsey smiles brightly and heads for the door. “I’ll just leave you to it. Call me if you need me. And you will need me.”
She rushes out, leaving me alone in my field of wildflowers. They really are lovely, even if the smell is making me a little lightheaded.
Glancing at my computer screen, my heart skips a beat when I notice a familiar name in my inbox.
She’s dead. She is so, so dead.
With trembling hands, I click on the email.
Skye,
I hope you like the flowers.
I pray you’re not allergic.
I know I’ve made a mess of things. Please give me a chance to make it right. There is an explanation, I promise.
Oh, and tell Lynsey I’ll need the name of another florist. I’m pretty sure I’ve liquidated Pansy’s entire wildflower inventory for the year.
I miss you more than you can possibly imagine.
Love,
Caleb
Stunned, I gaze around the room. They’re all from Caleb?
I start ripping open the little card envelopes. Each message is short and handwritten, full of sweet words that make my eyes fill with tears. Lynsey’s right. Every card says something different.
Caleb did this. He did all this for me.
I’ve barely made a dent in the card pile when I hear my door open slightly. Lynsey peeks in, with a look so hopeful I almost laugh.
Almost.
“Get your skinny ass in here.”
Lynsey steps inside and gently closes the door behind her.
“Are you ready to listen now?” she asks quietly.
“You talked to him?”
She nods.
“You actually talked to him? You put him up to this?”
“He’s adorable, Skye.”
“He’s a liar, Lynsey!”
She sighs heavily and walks toward my desk. Normally, she likes to perch her bony ass on top of it, but today, she settles for the couch.
“Yes, I talked to him.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I knew there had to be more to this story, and I was right.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does, Skye. It really does.”
I shake my head. This morning, I gave myself a pep talk all the way to the office, determined to make today a good day. I just want to get through one day without crying. Is that asking too much?
“Call someone and get this shit out of my office. Donate them to a hospital or something, but get them out of here.”
“Fine, but aren’t you curious. Just a little?”
“Is he still engaged?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then no, I’m not curious at all.”
I’m a liar, and she knows it. Where is her loyalty? She’s my best friend. Mine. What is she doing talking to Caleb behind my back and talking him into ridiculous spectacles like what’s in my office right now? How could she?
“Skye, you honestly have no idea how complicated this situation is.”
“Then tell me, Lynsey. You seem to have all the answers.”
“I think I should show you instead,” she says, glancing down at her phone. “I have a meeting with the mother of the bride. You’re coming with me.”
“Not a chance.”
“You know Juliana’s still out of town. We have to get approval on the invitations.”
“And she can’t come here?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you call the groom and let him approve them? You two seem pretty friendly these days.”
“You’re being a little dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic? Look at my office!”
With a resigned sigh, Lynsey stands up from her chair. “He won’t be there. I would never do that to you. You need to meet her mother, Skye. You need to see.”
“See what?”
“That you were right. He’s not an asshole.”
My head throbs. I don’t know if it’s because she’s talking in riddles or because my office smells like a garden.
I sneeze again. Fo
ur times in a row.
“Fine. I’ll go, but only because I want to stop by the pharmacy for allergy meds. And you’re paying for them because this is all your fault.”
She smiles triumphantly and follows me to the door. “Deal.”
“And I want these flowers gone when I get back.”
“Done.”
“And if Caleb’s there, I swear I’ll—”
“He won’t be there, Skye. He’s too busy looking for a new florist. Pansy owes me. Big time.”
I shoot her an icy glare. With a laugh, she links her arm through mine and leads me out of the office.
As wedding planners, we often get the chance to check out some beautiful locales. Majestic churches, plantation-style homes, historical landmarks, and mountain cottages are favorite spots for ceremonies. So, I’ve seen a lot of gorgeous places, but the Martinez estate—with its sprawling double staircase and European style chandeliers—really takes the cake.
“No wonder they didn’t give us a budget,” I whisper.
“That’s not the only reason,” Lynsey mutters.
The butler returns from . . . somewhere, and smiles at us.
“This way, ladies.”
To my great disappointment, he doesn’t lead us up the stairs. Instead, we follow him down a long hallway.
“We’ll need to keep this visit short,” he says softly. “Mrs. Martinez is pretty tired today. This week’s treatment was particularly rough on her.”
Treatment? I glance at Lynsey. She nods and continues looking straight ahead.
We finally stop in front of a pair of cream doors with fancy gold knobs. The butler waves us inside.
“Thank you,” Lynsey says.
We quietly step into the room.
The first thing I notice is the oxygen tank.
The second thing I notice is the woman.
She’s frail, with hollow cheeks and pale skin. A beautiful silk scarf is wrapped around her head. She appears to be sleeping, and I can’t help but think this is the worst possible time for a visit.
The butler quietly clears his throat. “Mrs. Martinez, your guests are here.”
Her eyes pop open.
“The wedding planners?”
We nod.
She smiles, and I swear it could outshine the sun.
The butler, who she calls Joaquin, helps her sit up and asks if she needs anything. Mrs. Martinez whispers something, and he helps her adjust her scarf. Lynsey and I pretend to check our phones, hoping to give her a small shred of privacy as she gets comfortable. After a few seconds, she invites us over to her bedside.