Save the Date Read online

  Tiffany settles her skinny butt in the chair and cracks open the binder, flipping the pages with quiet efficiency. I take the moment to go to my little desk tucked into the corner, grabbing a slim white folder from the stack of many slim white folders that are sitting in my outbox. I give these to every potential client. The folder is full of information to help them make their decisions, including past client recommendations that make me sound like a superstar.

  I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but in business, it’s necessary. I have to convince these people I am the one they need. I am the only one who will make a difference, and who will deliver them the right product.

  Sounds dramatic, but it’s true. In the wedding industry, we all do this. The best florist in town, the most magnificent cake baker, the photographer…we have to play up our talents.

  “Here is some information for you,” I tell her as I sit in the chair across from Tiffany, sliding the glossy white folder in her direction.

  She doesn’t even bother looking at it. She’s too busy flipping pages, quickly scanning the samples, wrinkling her nose before turning to the next one. Flip, scan, wrinkle, flip, repeat. I take her in quietly, trying to see what her absentee groom sees in her. I do this a lot. Sometimes I can totally see the love radiating between the future bride and groom. Or the chemistry. Some of the couples I’ve worked with were muy caliente, if you catch my drift.

  Considering the fiancé isn’t here yet—and where the hell is he?—I can’t help but think he must be a jerk. Like Tiffany appears to be. Most likely he’s a handsome jerk, because Tiffany is a beautiful jerk, with the gorgeous red hair and the golden-brown eyes and the perfect set of boobs and the heavily made up face that doesn’t actually look heavily made up at all. More like she’s merely emphasizing her assets—those big brown eyes, her matte red lips—and downplaying the negatives. Like the contouring on her nose, which totally slims it down, but not quite enough.

  I’ve watched a lot of makeup tutorials on YouTube. I know of which I speak.

  “Oh.”

  Tiffany’s breathy exclamation pulls me from my thoughts, and I realize she’s staring at a page, a particular sample, with hearts in her eyes.

  Seriously, don’t you wish emojis came to life? I certainly do.

  “You found something you like?” I fold my hands and rest them on the table, eager to grab an order form so I can start filling it out. But she’s what I call a one-legger, as in someone who’s wanting to buy something as a couple, yet they come in all by themselves. Meeting with only the future bride could be a mistake. She might need her fiancé’s opinion first before she can order anything.

  Or his money.

  Or his approval.

  Yes, I’ve seen it all.

  Even worse is the one-legger guy who shows up for the appointment. I mean, come on. We know who makes all the decisions on these kinds of things for the wedding. The bride.

  Not the groom.

  Speaking of the freaking late groom…

  “I think I found the exact thing I want, but I probably shouldn’t make that final decision without Alex here,” Tiffany explains, her heart eyes never straying from the sample she’s fallen in love with.

  “Maybe you should call him,” I tell her, my voice gentle. He needs to be here. The reason we’re here so freaking early is because of him. It’s downright rude that he hasn’t shown up yet. “He did confirm with you that he would be here this morning, correct?”

  “Yes, he did,” she snaps, pulling her iPhone from her giant, pink iridescent Chanel bag, opening the phone with face recognition—I still have an iPhone 7 plus, I don’t know what that bougie life is like. She taps the screen a few times with a perfectly long, perfectly coffin-shaped nail before holding the phone to her ear.

  Her volume setting is so loud I can hear the ringing. I can hear her fiancé’s voice when he answers.

  “Where are you?” Tiffany somehow hisses, drawing out the you. “You’re fifteen minutes late.”

  “Had to take a phone call,” I hear him say, irritation filling his voice.

  His…awfully familiar deep voice.

  Huh. I don’t know who this Alex character is. I don’t know any Alexes, though I’ve dealt with a few grooms named Alex in the past. Oh, and that one Alex from when I was a kid. How could I forget him? Tall. Skinny. He wore glasses. Was my older brother Carter’s best friend. Gave me my first kiss when we were playing hide-and-seek at night and we hid together in a storage shed in my backyard.

  Yeah, that Alex. Haven’t seen him in years. Have no clue what he’s up to, can barely remember his last name, if I’m being honest. He switched schools right after he and my brother graduated the eighth grade. Something about a private high school? Maybe boarding school, so he could get a supposed better education.

  “Hurry up,” she snaps, her irritation ultra-obvious. “I’ve already found what I wanted.”

  “Then what’s stopping you? Get it.” He’s such a guy, making it sound way easier than it is.

  “But I want you here, baby. I really need your opinion. You know how much it means to me,” Tiffany whines.

  Ugh. Does this guy find her whining appealing? Because I’m already over it and it literally just started.

  Not that she can see beyond the smile on my face. Damn it, I’m thrilled to be here at eight-fifteen in the morning to assist her while her fiancé takes phone calls and neglects us.

  Whatever.

  “I’m almost there.” I can tell he’s not almost here. How, I’m not sure, but it sounds like a line. “I’m just around the corner.”

  Now that is a total line. We aren’t particularly around the corner from anything. We’re right on Ocean Avenue, nestled between an art gallery and a children’s clothing shop that sells fifty-dollar onesies.

  No, I’m not kidding.

  “Hurry up,” Tiffany repeats just before she pulls the phone away from her face, stabbing at the red button with her index finger and finishing the call. Her smile is saccharine sweet when she aims it at me. “Do you have anything in the wedding invitations that matches this save the date card?”

  “I do.” Without hesitation, I pick up the even larger invitation sample binder and grab a hunk of the pages, flipping them to the left before I start scanning each individual page. I know the matching invitation is in this section…

  The bell above the door rings, indicating that someone has arrived, and I’m surprised he’s here so soon. I guess he was practically around the corner. Tiffany leaps out of her chair and heads to the man who’s now standing just inside the entrance. I hear the gentle murmur of conversation, and I tell myself to turn away to give them a moment of privacy, but it’s like I can’t. Instead, I watch her envelope the tall man in the perfect suit in a smothering embrace before pressing a smacking kiss to his lips.

  Every single hair on my body stands on end when I catch a glimpse of the man’s face. Well, probably not every hair, but close enough. I’m on edge because I know this man. Well, not know him know him, but I recognize that perfect suit. The shock of dark hair.

  Tiffany moves so she’s standing beside him, curling her arm through his as she leads him to me. The moment I fully take him in, my heart drops into my stomach, or maybe even lower. Like, maybe I’m going to give birth to my heart and it’s going to leave my body forever because the disappointment flooding me feels like an actual, living thing.

  Shakily, I rise to my feet as Tiffany announces, “This is my fiancé, Alexander Wilder. Alex, this is—”

  “Caroline,” Alex freaking Wilder finishes for her, his expression full-on dazed and confused.

  Oh. God. This isn’t just Alex the cute guy at the coffee shop. This is Alex, the boy who was my first kiss. The boy who was my brother’s best friend.

  Yeah. That Alex.

  Tiffany appears dazed and confused too. But only for a second, before she blinks herself into full on shrewd mode as she says, “Oh. Well.” There’s a heavy pause, one that makes me increasingly uncomfortable with every second that ticks by, while her fiancé doesn’t seem fazed in the least. “So you two know each other?”

  In full on deny mode, I immediately say no while Alex “Stupid Jerk” Wilder says yes at the same exact time, making us look like a pack of liars.

  “Oh. Ha ha.” I actually say ha ha, and if I could slap my forehead, I would. I’m making a complete fool of myself, and I don’t like it. But knowing who this guy really is, is making me antsy. And doesn’t he recognize me? At least a little bit?

  “We spoke at the coffee shop earlier,” I tell Tiffany with a faint smile and a little shrug, like it was no big deal.

  And it wasn’t, you know? Just because I thought he was hot, just because I thought we had a teeny-tiny connection…

  Come on. We so didn’t. That was just early morning banter before I had a full dose of caffeine.

  Totally misconstrued.

  Oh, and the fact that I knew him a long time ago. No big deal. I won’t bring it up if he doesn’t.

  “She cut in line,” Alex adds smoothly. “And after you left the coffee shop, that’s when I realized I do know you. Through your brother. Carter.”

  Damn it, he just brought it up. I haven’t talked to Carter in a while, and that’s because he’s in Southern California now, doing what he does best—selling real estate. I wonder if he stayed in contact with Alex. The boy of my long ago teenage dreams who’s standing in front of me now, extra hot and with a freaking fiancé. He has changed…

  A lot.

  I didn’t hang out much with my brother and his friend back then, because Carter was so mean to me when we were kids, and he hated having a pesky little sister, the jerk.

  I remember Alex being quiet. Kind of nerdy, with the awkwardly tall, skinny b
ody and the glasses he was constantly pushing up his nose. Carter did all the talking back then, but that’s probably because we were at our house and Carter was showing off.

  “Right. You’re Carter’s friend,” I finally say, my voice faint. I know he knows Carter, but I’m still having a difficult time wrapping my head around this.

  “We were best friends through middle school, though we lost touch after eighth grade. We’re friends on Facebook now.” Alex steps forward with his hand out. Oh God, he wants me to shake his hand. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to touch him. At all. This is going to be bad. So bad…

  I don’t form crushes on future grooms. It goes against my personal rules. Plus, it’s something I’ve never had to deal with, so no problem, right?

  But I feel all jittery standing in front of Alex right now. Remembering the last time I saw him, when his lips were plastered on mine on a warm summer night ages ago. I’ve gone over that kiss in my mind so many times since then, I’ve totally idealized it.

  I’d idealized him.

  And now he’s here. He flirted with me at Sweet Dreams. We had chemistry. If I’m being completely honest, I think we might still have chemistry. Right now. At this very moment. We’re not even speaking. But it’s the way he’s looking at me. How I’m looking at him.

  Blinking, I tear my gaze from his, focusing on Tiffany, who’s watching this entire transaction with a wary gaze.

  “Nice to meet you. Again,” I tell him, sounding fake as hell. As if I have no control of my extremities, I extend my hand and he takes it, giving it a firm shake. A gentle squeeze. A lingering gentle squeeze, his warm blue gaze locking with mine, his smile faint.

  Devastating.

  My knees go weak and I release his hand as quickly as possible, but it’s no use. I’m the one with heart eyes now, and this is so, so bad.

  Like, the worst thing that could happen ever.

  Two

  “This is the one I want,” Tiffany tells him, tapping that coffin-shaped, matte black painted nail on the save the date card she stopped on only a few minutes ago. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

  I am already on my work iPad, bringing up the order form we use for all of our clients. Focusing on work versus focusing on Alex Wilder.

  Why did it have to be him? And why is he with the pushy, snobby Tiffany? God, even her name sucks, which is typical, I know, and such a cliché. But there they are, sitting across from me at the giant desk in the back of Noteworthy. The dashing, handsome Alexander Wilder—my brother’s childhood best friend and my first ever kiss, WTF—and his beautiful, red-haired fiancée Tiffany.

  Ick.

  “Whatever you want,” he says, sounding distracted.

  I glance up briefly to find him staring at the phone he’s clutching in his right hand. He lifts his head, as if he can feel my eyes on him, and when our gazes meet, I quickly look down, my cheeks heating at getting caught.

  I don’t remember him being this attractive, and that is something I would definitely have remembered. I don’t tell too many people my first kiss story, because it’s so silly. I was only what…twelve? Almost thirteen? He was fourteen, we were hiding in that old storage shed, I saw a giant spider web and practically leapt into his arms, he comforted me and the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine and it was…

  It was nice.

  “You’re not even looking at it.” Tiffany’s whining again, but honestly? I kind of can’t blame her. She’s correct—he’s definitely not looking at it, and I’m sure that’s frustrating her. Crap, it’s frustrating me.

  I glance up again to see he’s once more concentrating on whatever’s on his phone. Dark brows furrowed, lush lips parted, that look of concentration is undeniably sexy.

  My heart skips a beat.

  I tell my heart to knock it off.

  He lifts his head a little, his gaze slides to the right, and he gives the invitation she’s still tapping with that black matte nail a perfunctory glance. “I love it.”

  “Perfect.” She’s beaming, first at Alex, then at me. “We’ll definitely take them.”

  Oh my God, I so want to roll my eyes because seriously, he didn’t even look at it, but she’s so damn happy he’s agreeable, I guess I’ll restrain myself.

  “And the matching invitations too?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Tiffany says with a firm nod. “Plus the thank you cards.”

  Cha-ching. The triple play is happening. “How many do you need?”

  “Five hundred,” Tiffany says.

  Alex shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Alex.” She rests a proprietary hand on his forearm, her gaze beseeching when it meets his. “Your family knows at least that many people, if not more.”

  “They’re mostly business associates. And most of them we don’t even like.” He turns that intense blue gaze on me. “Two hundred.”

  “That’s not enough.” Now Tiffany’s looking at me, her gaze imploring. “We need at least three hundred.”

  “Two fifty,” Alex counters.

  My fingers hover above the iPad’s keyboard. “It’s always better to order extra,” I offer nervously. “That way you won’t run out. It’s better to have too many than not enough.”

  “Caroline has a point,” Tiffany turns her full attention on Alex. “We’ll send out two hundred fifty invitations, but we’ll order three hundred. Just in case.”

  “Just in case,” I add, smiling at Tiffany when our gazes meet. Like we’re in this together. “When do you need them by?” I ask as I start making my entries on the order form. This part is easy. The sale is practically confirmed, and you rarely lose them at this point, though of course, it can still happen. Usually I’m extremely confident in my sales abilities, but for some reason, that’s not happening today. I’m a little shaky, almost as if I drank too much caffeine, and there’s a nervous fizz bubbling in my stomach.

  I blame it all on Alex. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that this gorgeous man was the skinny boy who’d been Carter’s best friend.

  The skinny, shy boy who told me he liked me before he disappeared from our lives forever…

  Talk about a small world.

  “Oh, probably in less than a week?” Tiffany smiles sweetly while I look at her all bug-eyed. Less than a week? Is she serious? “We need to mail them out as soon as possible, since the wedding is in June.”

  Wait a minute. Did she just say June? It’s currently March. And we’re nearing the end of March. They are cutting it way close. Too close. “Um, can I make a suggestion?”

  Tiffany says nothing, she just blinks at me. It’s Alex who answers, “Go for it.”

  Hmm, hearing him say go for it in that deep voice conjures up all sorts of fantastical things that I shouldn’t be imagining.

  I shove those imaginings to the wayside.

  “Shouldn’t you forget about the save the date cards and just send out the wedding invitations?” I can’t believe I uttered those words, but it’s true. When we’re cutting it this close on the calendar, there’s no point in sending out save the date cards. The actual wedding date is too close.

  “Oh, but I want the save the date cards so badly. They’re just so…cute,” Tiffany says, wrinkling her nose.

  Maybe we can make this work. “Okay. What date in June is the wedding?” I ask, my voice weak as I bring up the calendar and start counting the weeks.

  “June 8th,” she says.

  Of course, it’s in the beginning of the month. “Um.” I offer them both a sympathetic smile, like I’m about to deliver some bad news, and I guess I am, if she’s got her heart set on those particular cards. “With this timeline, you really are better off skipping the save the date cards and going straight to the in—”

  “No.” Tiffany interrupts me with one firm word. “We must send those cards first. If we can get them by next week, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  I’m still looking at the calendar, but for different reasons now. Now she wants the cards by next week? At least she’s giving me a little more time. The turnaround is at least two to three days, and that’s being generous. The company we order from ships fairly quickly, though they won’t guarantee delivery unless you actually pay for it.

  And those expedited shipping charges are no joke.

  “It’s tight,” I tell Tiffany cautiously as I calculate the days in my head. “But we might be able to pull it off.”