Listen to Your Heart(20)

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.”