Listen to Your Heart(21)

“Skye . . .”

I finally allow myself to look into his blue eyes. There’s pain there—deep, agonizing pain that rips my heart into a million pieces.

But I’m a professional.

“Your tie’s fixed, Mr. Lynch.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t give a shit about the tie. You’re a . . . you’re a wedding planner?”

“Even better. I’m your wedding planner.”

“Skye, you have to let me—”

“The groom is ready to be measured, Antonio,” I announce calmly.

Slowly, I turn around and walk toward Dane. While pretending to be very interested in the length of his jacket sleeves, I can feel Caleb’s eyes on me, but I ignore him as the final adjustments are made and the measurements are noted.

“We’ll have the final fitting next month?” Antonio asks.

I nod and send a quick text to Lynsey, letting her know about the next scheduled appointment. I also tell her I’m officially off this account, to which I receive a frantic reply that I’ll deal with later—after I’ve consumed a lot of wine and beat the shit out of something.

I leave Macy to finish up with Antonio as I excuse myself and quickly make my way toward the nearest exit. Without warning, a pair of strong arms wrap around me, lifting me from the ground and pulling me toward his chest.

“Don’t touch me, Caleb Lynch!”

“You have to let me explain,” he murmurs frantically against my ear. “Please, Skye . . . please let me explain.”

His voice aches with desperation, but right now, it has zero effect on me. I’m mortified. I’m heartbroken. I’m stupid. And I have to get away from him before I totally fall apart, because there’s no way in hell I’m going to let him watch me cry.

I struggle until he lets me spin around in his arms.

“Are you engaged?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. This is a yes or no question. Are. You. Engaged?”

His face contorts with fear and frustration, and I have my answer.

“That’s all I need to know.”

“That’s not all you need to know! I know this looks bad. God knows this looks bad, but I swear there’s an explanation.”

We’re causing a scene, but I don’t care. Maybe they’ll call the cops so that they can drag me out of here and put me out of my misery.

“I don’t need your explanation. I understand perfectly. You’re a cheater and a liar and I never want to see you again. Lynsey and Macy will handle your account.”

“Please don’t do this!”

He’s begging now, and I have to admit it’s a little satisfying. Too bad my embarrassment’s making it hard to find joy in his misery.

“You need to go change. Antonio’s going to be worried about his suit.”

A crowd’s started to gather. Macy’s surrounded by Antonio and the groomsmen, watching the train wreck that’s suddenly become my life.

“This isn’t over, Skye.”

“It’s absolutely over. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t email me. Don’t come to my apartment. Don’t think about me. And don’t touch me. You don’t get to touch me ever again.”

The groomsmen suddenly appear by our side.

“Sorry,” Jesse says quietly, “but umm . . . the guy needs your shoe size.”

“And I need your phone number,” Dane says.

Caleb’s steely gaze lands on his groomsman. Because I’m a bitch, I reach into my bag and pull out a business card. I turn to Dane and offer it to him with a smile.

“Call me anytime.”

I don’t have to look at Caleb’s face. I can feel the rage radiating from his body as I turn on my heel and walk out the door.



I’m proud of myself. I drive a very confused Macy back to the office and make it all the way home before my emotions finally consume me. Collapsing on my couch, I bury my face in the blanket that still smells like him and bawl uncontrollably. My cell rings constantly, and at one point I hear someone beating down my door, but I ignore it all.

Stupid. That’s the only word that adequately describes it. I should’ve known something wasn’t right. Caleb was too perfect. Too wonderful. Too good to be true. I’d fallen fast, and now I’m paying for it.

As my apartment begins to darken and my tears start to subside, I allow myself to accept some of the blame. I let myself get carried away, and in doing so, I hadn’t taken the time to even ask him his last name. Would I have even made the connection? Who knows. But something as basic as his last name might have saved me from the overwhelming grief I’m feeling right now.

Caleb Lynch was exciting and intense and, in the end, completely devastating.

Stupid. I’m a stupid, stupid girl.

I grab my cell, knowing I need to send a quick text to Lynsey to let her know I’m alive. A quick glance at the screen tells me I have over fifty missed calls and just as many voice mails.

Holding my breath, I listen to the messages as they echo in my ear.

I’m sorry.

Please answer your phone.

Please answer your door.

Please talk to me.

The anguish in Caleb’s voice intensifies with each message, but it’s his final confession that completely tears my heart in two.