16. Cole

"So,she's the wedding planner for her ex's wedding?" Sara called out from the front room as I zipped up my garment bag. I'd chosen my favorite suit of Arthur's. A black Armani that, of course, he had tailored to his exact measurements, which thankfully were mine as well. I'd only worn it on one other occasion. It was an awards show where I was the plus one of a media mogul.

"Yeah. She said her ex didn't know his fiancée had hired her," I explained as I walked into the front room.

"Really?" My sister's brow furrowed. "I don't know…That's…weird, right?"

I shrugged. It might be weird, but it worked out well for me. I doubted that Bailey would have retained me under any other circumstances. Not that I was actually going to let her pay me. I wasn't. Although, she didn't know that.

There was no way that I could allow her to be my client. I might not know her well, but I cared about her. If nothing else, I would do this for her as a friend because, unfortunately, that was all that I could offer her. Friendship. Not that she wanted more. Although, if I'd gotten the right idea about the sneeze, she was attracted to me, so there was that.

"You should wear this blue tie. It matches your eyes." Sara handed me the tie, and I placed it on the hanger in the garment bag.

"There's a lasagna, a pot roast, and a stew in the fridge. You just have to warm them up. And there's a fresh box of Hot Pockets in the freezer for the twins. It's a twenty pack, so that should last through the weekend. There are?—"

"Hey, you don't have to worry about us." Sara interrupted me. "Just enjoy yourself."

Yeah. That wasn't going to happen. I was definitely going to worry about them.

"Okay, fine, worry about us, but please, try to enjoy yourself." Sara offered the compromise after seeing my expression.

"Call if you need anything. I can be home in two hours," I told her for probably the hundredth time.

"We'll be fine," she assured me, probably for the hundredth time.

"Arthur said you can use the Cadillac if you need to, or Uber, of course."

Although Arthur didn't drive much anymore, he still had a license and a classic 1959 Cadillac de Ville that was in perfect condition. Usually, I drove my work truck, and Sara had the Expedition; not that she drove much either. But I couldn't take my work truck to Napa, so I had to take the SUV.

"Leave. Now. Go. Have fun." She opened the door and shooed me out of the apartment.

I kissed her on the top of the head and said a silent prayer that I was doing the right thing, and that they would all be okay.

On the drive over to pick up Bailey, I felt the nerves I'd been suppressing begin to percolate. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt any butterflies in my stomach over the opposite sex. It had to be when I was in middle school and saw Lindsay for the first time. I wish I could say that over the years, the butterflies had gone away, but even after ten years together, I'd still felt them every time I saw her until the day she was gone.

It was the same feeling I'd gotten the first time I'd seen Bailey. A bride was yelling at her about flowers or something, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Even in the face of being screamed at, she had this calm, angelic energy that I'd been mesmerized by. She captivated me in that moment, and, all these months later, I was still under her spell.

I pulled up to her apartment complex, a brick building with black trim and vines growing up one side. It had a modern storybook feel that reflected what I'd observed about Bailey. I texted her that I was out front. I would have parked and gone to her door, but since parking was so bad on her street, she told me just to let her know when I was there and she'd come down. So that's what I did. She immediately messaged me back, saying she was on her way.

As I waited, I glanced inside the SUV, making sure that there were no Capri Sun pouches, candy bar wrappers, crumbs, or empty water bottles. I'd detailed it the day before, but I'd dropped the twins off for school this morning, and it was mind-boggling how quickly they could make a mess.

I was turning back around in my seat when I saw her emerge from the building. Her hair was pulled back off her face, and she wore a white V-neck T-shirt, jeans, and white Vans sneakers. It was the most casual outfit I'd seen her in. She looked adorable and somehow even more like my dream girl. Seeing her in jeans and a T-shirt conjured visions of curling up on a couch with her, of shopping at the farmer's market, going to the movies and dinners, walking by the water at Crissy Field—all of the things people did in relationships. It had been so long since I'd had any desire to do any of those things. I'd just put them out of my mind after Lindsay left.

A single suitcase trailed behind her. The large black bag that I'd seen her carrying several times before was over one shoulder, and she was holding up a garment bag. I got out and opened the liftgate.

She met me in the back of the Escalade, smiling widely. "Hi."

"You look… amazing." I wanted to say adorable, but I didn't know how she would take that.

"You don't have to say that." She glanced down at herself, appearing self-conscious.

"I know I don't." I lifted her suitcase and put it beside my duffle bag. Then I hung up her garment bag beside mine. I motioned to her bag. "Do you want me to put that back here?"

"No, that's okay." She patted it.

I'd hoped that once I saw her, the nerves that I'd been battling would chill the fuck out, but if anything, they'd only increased. I shut the liftgate, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door.

"A gentleman. Thank you."

"Arthur would never forgive me if I didn't open a lady's door."

"He's old school, just like my Granddad. I appreciate it." She smiled as she climbed inside, and I shut the door.

I walked around the driver's side and realized my palms were damp. My nerves had caused my hands to become sweaty. Before opening the door, I wiped them on my jean-covered thighs and told myself to get it together. This was just a weekend at a vineyard with someone I was excited to spend time with. That's it. We weren't the ones getting married. Although I wouldn't be upset if we were.

We started driving and Bailey put our destination address in the SatNav.

"Thank you for driving. And agreeing to come," Bailey said as I pulled onto the 101.

"I've been looking forward to it." I flexed, then closed my fingers around the steering wheel.

"You don't have to keep saying stuff like that. I mean, this isn't a real date—this is your job, so you don't have to say nice things."

This weekend was going to be really long if, every time I complimented her, she told me I didn't have to say that. Instead of addressing it now, I just ignored it. "I can't remember the last time I've gone away, even for a weekend. It's been…years."

Six years, to be exact. Not that I was counting. The last getaway I'd had was when Lindsay and I went to Big Bear to celebrate our high school graduation. Three weeks later, Peter went to the doctor for a headache, and the nightmare began.

"Really?!" Bailey was clearly surprised by my admission.

"Yeah."

"Oh, because you are always working on the weekends, right? I mean, I guess that would be when you'd be the busiest."

That wasn't the reason, but I didn't correct her. Instead, I turned on the radio. "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" by Frankie Valli came through the speakers.

Bailey clapped her hands together. "Oh, I love this song!"

I reached down and turned it up. "Do you like oldies?"

"I love them! It's pretty much all I listen to."

"Me, too."

"Really?!" Again, she seemed surprised.

"Yeah."

"Can I ask you something? Something personal?" She turned toward me.

"Only if it goes both ways."

"Goes both ways?" she repeated.

"You can ask me something personal if I can ask you something personal."

"Oh, okay, yeah, sure," she agreed, and I waited.

When she didn't say anything, I prompted, "What did you want to ask me?"

She brushed the strand of hair back, which I'd noticed always fell in her face, as she took a breath. "Sorry, right, um, okay, how old are you?"

I grinned as I glanced over at her. I was sure that she must have changed her question so that I didn't ask her something too personal. But when I looked at her, she seemed to be genuinely curious.

"That's your personal question?"

She nodded, and I could see in her eyes that she truly did want to know.

"I'm twenty-four."

"Twenty-four," she repeated under her breath.

I'd always been told I was mature for my age. Even before I became a legal adult and had to step up to help Sara and the kids, I'd had to grow up and handle things no eight-year-old, or six-year-old, or four-year-old should. Things like finding my parents unresponsive with needles hanging from their arms and having to go bang on neighbors' doors in the middle of the night to get help. Things like never knowing where my next meal was coming from and picking through the garbage in the cafeteria to get sandwiches and bags of chips that weren't finished. Things like learning how to wash my clothes in the sink so they would be clean for school.

I glanced at Bailey, and I couldn't tell what was going on behind her gorgeous eyes. Her expression was unreadable. "Is that a problem?" I asked.

"No. No, not a problem at all." She shook her head. "I just feel like, I don't know, a cougar."

"You're not a cougar," I stated definitively. She couldn't be more than thirty, and even if she was, that didn't make her a cougar.

"I'm thirty-six. I was twelve when you were born. I think that qualifies."

"So, it is a problem."

"No, I mean, this isn't…if this was…but it's not, so, no, it's not a problem."

I knew what she was trying and failing to say. If she were serious about me, if this were an actual date instead of what it was, then it would be a problem. I respected the fact that she felt that way, but I disagreed. Heartily.

Which I would say, if there were actually a chance we could be together. Since there wasn't, I didn't see the point. I figured I might as well cash in on my personal question.

"So, this wedding. You said it's your ex's, right?"

She nodded.

"How long were you two together?"

I figured it had to be a fairly significant relationship if she'd go so far out of her comfort zone to hire me. Or at least try to hire me, since I had no plans of accepting a dime.

"Um, that's sort of hard to say."

"Is it?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time." I pointed to the navigation that said we would arrive at our destination in two and a half hours.

"Right, well, Simon was my first boyfriend. We met when I was fourteen, the summer before my freshman year and his senior year of high school. We dated over the summer and through the school year. After graduation, he took a gap year and went abroad."

"So, you broke up?"

"No, I mean, at least I didn't know we had until he came home over Christmas with another girlfriend."

"And you had no idea he was seeing someone else?"

"Nope."

"Had you talked to him? When he was overseas?"

"Yeah. He called me once a week, and he sent me a bunch of postcards and emails. I even went to the airport to pick him up with his parents."

"You did?"

"Yeah, and he walked off the flight with a six-foot-tall Norwegian model."

"Wow. That's… I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"So you guys, what, you stayed friends?"

"Yeah, I mean, we kept in touch. Over the years."

I glanced to my right, and from the look in her eyes, I could see that they'd kept in touch, emphasis on touch. They'd hooked up. My guess was every time he was between relationships, or when it was convenient.

She was still in love with him. That much was clear.

I didn't know what was going to happen this weekend, but I planned on doing everything in my power to get her over Simon. She was thirty-six, and they'd gotten together when she was fourteen. That meant she'd spent twenty-two years in love with a man who didn't appreciate her.

That's a lifetime of unrequited love. Bailey deserved to be treasured, adored, respected, valued, prioritized, and cherished. And this weekend, that's exactly what I planned on doing.