Page 7 of This Woman Forever
Next.
I smile, looking down at my list of things to do. My smile falls. Fucking hell. “Wedding planner,” I say, pulling my laptop close and hitting up Google. The list is endless, and I figure the ones at the top are likely to be the best and most popular, so I start there. Yes, that might mean they’re also fully booked, but I’ll make this well worth their while. Besides, half the job is done for them—venue, registrar, dress. I even know a baker and a florist. So, really, they’ll be more of a coordinator. A very well-paid coordinator.
The first answers, and I ramp up my charm to top level, getting up from my stool and wandering. “Hi, Tessa, my name’s Jesse Ward.” God damn it, this would be much easier in person. I could flash my smile and biceps. “I’m looking for a wedding planner.”
“I’m afraid I’m fully booked for the next three years.”
I laugh. “Fucking hell.” She must be really good. And exactly what I need. “We’re getting married a week on Saturday.”
Now it’s her laughing.
“It’s twelve days’ work,” I go on, not deterred. “For one hundred grand.” And she shuts up. “There’s no budget,” I add.
“I think I might be able to figure something out.”
I bet you can, Tessa. “Great. My wife to-be will be home this evening. That work?”
“Absolutely.”
“Perfect. I’ll send you our address.” I hang up and go to my list, crossing out everything on it—it’s now Tessa’s list—and leave only two more things. I dial John, my stomach doing a little flip.
“Is she there?” I ask.
“She’s here.”
I nod and breathe out. “I’m on my way.”
I sit outside The Manor for an eternity, staring up at the building that’s been my life for the best part of twenty years, feeling... I don’t know. Weird? I can’t put my finger on it. Empty? Detached? Abs?—
My phone rings, and I recoil at the dash display. Coral? I laugh sardonically. Seriously?
I reject the call and get out, heading up the steps, opening the door and listening. It’s not busy—standard for this time of day. Swallowing, I walk on, vigilant, watching every door, waiting for her to appear. I find John first, coming out of my office, his wraparounds unusually sitting on his bald, shiny head. “All right?” I ask as I approach.
“She’s not good.”
I look at my office door. “Is she in there?”
“Yes, she’s in there.”
“What have you said?”
“I’ve said you’re marrying Ava.”
“And what did she say?”
“Nothing. She cried.”
“Have you told her I know she used your phone to text Ava?”
“I haven’t said anything.” Except that I’m marrying Ava. He lightly pats my shoulder as he passes. “I’m around if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly as he wanders away, leaving me to fend for myself, putting his shades back into place.
I face the door.
Take in air.
Reach for the handle.