Emma thought she had everything under control, but when her ex—the last-minute savior of her wedding—suddenly disappeared, leaving only a letter behind, the cracks in her carefully planned day started to show.
What could Ryan’s letter reveal, and why was Matt looking at her like he already knew?
Emma paced the living room, her phone clutched tightly to her ear as if the force of her grip could solve all her problems.
Her steps were quick and restless, the kind that left invisible tracks on the carpet.
The tension in the room was palpable, but Matt didn’t seem to notice—or care.
He sat sprawled across the couch, casually scrolling through sports updates on his phone.
“She just quit, Matt! Two weeks before the wedding! Who does that?” Emma exclaimed, the frustration in her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
With a dramatic toss, she flung her phone onto the coffee table, narrowly missing Matt’s coffee mug.
Matt barely glanced up.
“Just find another planner,” he said, as though the solution were that simple.
Emma stopped pacing, staring at him in disbelief. “Oh, genius idea! Why didn’t I think of that?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air.
“Do you even realize how hard it is to book a good wedding planner?
They’re booked out months—years—in advance, Matt!”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “if it’s that impossible, what are you going to do?”
Emma hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.
“I… I might know someone who can help. But you’re not going to like it.”
Matt finally sat up, his interest piqued.
“Who?”
Emma avoided his gaze. “Ryan.”
The air in the room shifted. Matt froze, his jaw tightening.
“Ryan? As in Ryan, your ex?”
Emma sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“Yes. But he’s one of the best wedding planners in the city, Matt.
And he’s the only one who might actually pull this off on such short notice.”
Matt snorted, leaning back. “Oh, great. So your ex gets to plan our wedding.
That’s not awkward at all.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Emma asked, her voice rising with exasperation.
Matt stared at her, his face a mix of annoyance and resignation. Finally, he sighed. “Fine.
Call him. But if he starts reminiscing about your prom night, I’m out.”
Emma pushed open the door to Ryan’s downtown office, her heart pounding like she was back in high school giving a presentation.
The office was just as she imagined it—sleek, modern, and meticulously tidy.
Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in natural light, bouncing off glass surfaces and designer furniture.
Ryan stood by his desk, his back turned, casually flipping through a stack of fabric swatches.
“Ryan?” Emma called out hesitantly, her voice betraying her nerves.
He turned around, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to warm surprise. “Emma, i was shocked you called me and said you want to meet.
It’s been… what, five years?”
“Six,” she corrected, her voice soft but steady. Seeing him after all this time felt surreal. His easy grin, the same one that had once made her heart race, was still intact.
Ryan took a step forward, his tone teasing.
“And to what do I owe this honor? Here to raid my Rolodex for fabric tips?”
Emma exhaled sharply, launching into her story.
Her words came in a rush, punctuated with wild hand gestures as she explained her wedding planner’s abrupt exit and her last-minute scramble to fix everything. Ryan leaned against his desk, arms crossed, nodding occasionally.
His calm, attentive expression only heightened her awareness of how frantic she sounded.
When she finally paused, he tilted his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Just like that?”
Ryan’s smile widened.
“Sure. But on one condition.”
Emma blinked. “Name it.”
“Dinner.
After the wedding. Your treat.”
She laughed nervously, not entirely sure if he was joking. “Thank you, Ryan, you are a lifesaver.”
The door behind her opened, and Matt walked in, his presence heavy with suspicion.
His eyes darted between Emma and Ryan, assessing the situation.
“Thanks for helping out,” Matt said, his tone clipped.
Ryan extended a hand, his grin unwavering. “Anything for Emma.”
Matt hesitated for a beat before shaking Ryan’s hand, his posture tense.
Emma caught the exchange, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air like a storm cloud. This was going to be complicated.
Ryan and Emma stood side by side at the arrangement table, the scent of fresh roses mingling with the faint aroma of catering mishaps lingering in the air.
The caterer had just left, mumbling apologies for an unfortunate mix-up.
Emma’s hands flew to her temples as she processed the news.
“So, you’re telling me the main course is now vegan lasagna instead of filet mignon?” she said, her voice climbing an octave.
Ryan leaned casually against the table, his expression infuriatingly calm. “Well,” he began with a smirk, “you could spin it as a ‘newlywed cleanse.’ Matt might even thank you for saving his cholesterol.”
Emma blinked at him, then burst out laughing despite herself. The tension in her shoulders softened.
“God, you always find a way to make me laugh.
Even now.”
He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s my specialty—keeping the bride sane. Someone has to.”
Emma shook her head, her smile fading into something softer.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
