“I’m sorry, Alice, I’m just not fond of that venue, either.”

“Roselle,” I say calmly. “We have to come to a decision fast. The wedding is only six months away.”

Sometimes I hate being a wedding planner, especially when I come across a bride-to-be who suffers from the curse of indecision.

In the past week, I presented Roselle Mercier with so many options, but she hated every one of them. There was always something wrong. She doesn’t like the venues, constantly changes her mind about the flowers, suddenly doesn’t like the invitation cards, which have already been mailed out and there’s nothing we can do about it. Now every time she walks through my office door, I dread our conversations.

“I know. I know I’m being a bridezilla, but I want it all to be perfect. I need to follow my heart, and right now it doesn’t like that château.”

“It also didn’t like the previous one and the one before it.” I clasp my hands in front of me on the desk. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.” Roselle twirls a lock of her long, blonde hair around her index finger. The movement causes her huge diamond engagement ring to sparkle.

“I hope I’m not overstepping here, but I’m kind of getting the impression that you might not really want this.”

“Want what exactly?” Her face clouds.

“The wedding.” I cross my legs under my white vintage office desk. “Roselle, do you really want to get married?”

Her expression tightens. “Why are you asking me that question?”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you’re unable to make a decision about anything to do with this wedding. Could it be that subconsciously you don’t want it to happen?”

Her shoulders sink. “It doesn’t matter whether I want to get married or not. I’ve been dating Alexandre for ten years. It’s time. I wanted this.” She pauses. “I do want this. I’ve waited a long time for him to propose, and he finally did. I have no reason not to want to marry him. He’s my whole world.”

“Ten years together is a long time. Maybe you’re scared things might change once you’re married.” Asking all these questions makes me feel like a psychologist, but I guess that’s what I am to some of my clients. Weddings have a way of sometimes bringing out the worst in people. Sometimes someone from the outside often needs to step in before the people involved are swept away by their emotions.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Roselle twists her engagement ring around her finger, big brown eyes hooded by her long lashes.

“Yes, of course.” It’s not as if we hang out in the same circles anyway. After this wedding, we will probably never see each other again. There are times after a wedding ends where I lie in bed, several months or years later, wondering if the couples I organized a wedding for are still together, still happy.

“I cheated on Alexandre.” She removes the ring only to slide it back onto the finger again. “It ... It happened two months ago.” Her lips tremble as she speaks. “I’m pregnant.”

I unfold my arms and lean back. I definitely didn’t expect that. They looked so happy and in love a couple of months ago when they walked into my office. “Does Alexandre know?”

“I told him last night ... about the baby. He doesn’t know I slept with someone else.”

I’m quiet for a long time, wondering what to say to her. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. “What did he say?”

“He wants us to get married sooner. He’s excited about being a father.” A tear trickles down her cheek. “But I feel so bad for lying to him. But if I tell him the truth, he might leave me.”

I’m dying to know why she did it, why she cheated on the man she claims to love so much. But it’s not my place, and I don’t want to judge. There’s only one thing for me to do. I place a hand on hers.

“Roselle,” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry to say this, but I think you have a lot of things to work out first before you decide to get married. I’ll be here if you do decide to go ahead with the wedding.”

She nods and her wet gaze meets mine. “Alice, have you ever loved someone so much it hurts?”

“Yes.” I detach my gaze from hers. “Yes, I have.”

It’s been six months since I said goodbye to Lance, and I’m still in the process of picking up the pieces of my heart. I’ve glued a few of them together, but some are pulverized to the point I can’t pick them up. And others got lost along the way. But I’m doing fine walking around with an incomplete heart.

My business gets me through the tough times. When I wrote him the goodbye letter on the plane, I never expected to get a response, but it still hurt when he didn’t write back. His decision to move on with his life made it easier for me to do the same. In my weak moments, when thoughts of him invade my mind, I do my best to remember the good times. I hold on to the belief that each day is a step closer to healing.

“Alexandre is my heart,” Roselle says. “I don’t know why I cheated on him with a random guy at a bar. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. Then it was too late.” She blinks away tears.

“I’m really sorry. I wish I could help you with this.”

Roselle drops her head into her hands.

My cell phone rings. Emile’s name flashes on the screen but I ignore it for a moment.

“Roselle, look at me.”

She looks up, eyes wet. “I don’t know what to do.”

I hand her a tissue from a silver box on my desk. “Maybe you should think about telling Alexandre the truth. If you don’t, the guilt will eat at you. Or he might find out by accident.”

“Yeah.” She purses her lips. “Maybe you’re right. Alexandre knows me too well. It’s only a matter of time before he reads my mind.” She rises to her feet. “I’ll call you next week to let you know how to proceed.”

She walks out of the room with shoulders hunched and tears still streaking her cheeks. I’d hate to be in her shoes.

Alone again, I return Emile’s call. The past week she’s been home sick with a bad cold. But it’s okay because our business has been doing so well that we had to hire two additional wedding planners to help.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Not good,” she says, breathless. “You have to come home, please.”

My spine straightens. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I did something stupid. The apartment is on fire. I fell asleep and forgot to put out the cigarette.” She coughs. “I should have listened to you and quit the damn things.”

I’m already on my feet and on my way out the door. “How bad is the fire?”

“Really bad. I’m so sorry, Alice.”

I’m barely able to breathe as I run out the door and get into my car. “Are you hurt?” Belongings can be replaced, but not my friend.“Where are you now?” My words have a hard time coming out of my constricted throat.

“I’m fine. I got out in time. I’m outside. The firefighters are on the way.”

“I’m on my way.” I start the ignition, but before I drive off, I take a moment to breathe in, to pull myself together. I remind myself that some things in life happen, and we can’t avoid them. We can only control the way we react to them. Panicking right now wouldn’t be a good idea.

Despite the traffic, I make it home in record time. As I approach the house, I’m surprised not to see any sign of smoke or fire. I quickly pull into the parking space assigned to our apartment and jump out of the car.

I’m breathless by the time I reach the last floor and burst into the apartment.

Emile is sprawled across our printed yellow couch, a smile on her face.

“Emile, what’s going on?” My gaze darts around. “You said there was a fire.” I lift my hands and let them fall. “Why would you lie about something like that?”

“I’m sorry, lovely.” She sits up. “You’ve been working so much. You need to slow down a little. Since you returned from Cabo, all you do is work. I wanted to ask you to lunch, but if I did, you wouldn’t have agreed.”

“I can’t believe you scared me like that.” I collapse onto the couch. “You of all people.”

She comes to place a hand on my back. “Breathe, just breathe. It’s all right.” She pauses. “It was a bad joke. I should have come up with something else.”

“Forget about it.” I rise to my feet. “I was having a bad day, anyway. At least you look like you’re feeling better.” My gaze takes in Emile’s pale face. Her nose is still red from being blown too many times, but I’m glad to see she got her strength back.

“The worst is certainly over.” She touches one of her auburn pigtails.

“Well, let me go have a quick shower. We could go out for a pizza.”

I pick up my purse and walk the twenty steps to my room. I push the door open and freeze.

“No,” I whisper, clutching my chest. “Lance?”

“Yes.” Lance is standing next to my bed with the help of crutches. His wheelchair is folded, leaning against one of my peach-colored walls. “It’s me. I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think your friend would be able to pull it off.”

I close the door and take a few unsure steps into the room toward him. I’m finding it hard to believe he’s real. “I can’t believe you’re here. And you’re ... wow!” Tears flood my throat.

“I’m real. Come here.” A grin sweeps across his face. “Come and touch me. See for yourself.”

“What happened? How?” I glance at his wheelchair and then back at him.

“The past few months I was in South Africa undergoing an intensive experimental treatment. It’s working.” He lowers his gaze to his legs, then raises it again, eyes dancing. “Well, I’m not quite there yet, but my body is reacting well. I might never really walk again, but as you can see, I can stand ... with a little help.” He pauses. “I only saw your letter when I returned home last week.”

My hands fly to my mouth. “Oh, my God, Lance. I can’t believe this.” My vision blurs.

He’s here. I’m made a choice to give him up. I said goodbye. Now he’s here. He has not forgotten me. He didn’t give up on us. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion, I don’t even know how to feel.

“What are you waiting for? Come here and hug me already.”

My entire body is hot as I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck. He buries his face into my shoulder and inhales. “You still smell so good … like home.” He pauses. “After you left, I felt completely empty. Nothing and no one could fill the hole you left in my life.” He sniffs as I hold on tight. “I was a fool to let you go, even when you showed me that I can live. Even if I never walk again, I can live. I want to experience life with you, if you’ll still have me.”

I pull away from him, tears pouring from my eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.” He gives me a mischievous grin. “And by the way, we happen to have some unfinished business. I came all this way because I want to make love to you.”

“But—”

“The treatment didn’t only help my legs. It improved some important functions. Do you want to give me a test drive?”

I throw my head back and laugh from the belly. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you, baby. I’m incredibly crazy about you. Now please shut the door and allow me to do something I’ve been wanting to do to you for a long time.”

Giggling, I do as I’m told and turn back to him with so much joy buried in my heart I almost can’t contain it.

I help lower him to the bed and remove his clothes. When the clothes melt from my body, Lance stops to study the upside down rose tattoo between my breasts, running the tip of his finger down the length of the thin stem. “By the way, I never pegged you for a girl who likes tattoos.”

“I have my moments when I like to experiment.”

“Well, I like this little experiment,” he whispers.

“Good. Now shut up and kiss me.” I lower my lips to his.

We kiss for what feels like forever. The man I love is here, and there’s no rush. We have all the time in the world to savor every second of our second chance. This time, he doesn’t pull my hand away when I touch him, encircle my hand around him. A shudder of excitement passes through me when he hardens between my fingers.

Our lips are locked in a kiss when I finally climb on top of him and allow him to enter me. We both gasp at the rush of electricity that shoots through us the moment we connect at a deeper, more intimate level. But still, we take our time.

A moment before I come, Lance moves his lips to my ear and whispers, “Marry me, Alice Dupuis. Don’t spend another second without me in your life.” He grabs my bottom and pushes deeper into me.

I don’t need to think about it.

“Oh, my God. Yes, yes,” I scream as I ride him faster and harder, his hands tight on my ass, tears blurring my vision. The orgasm and his proposal make both our worlds spin.

Wasting no time after our engagement, Lance and I fly to Las Vegas three days later. We only tell our friends and families after exchanging vows. Marrying in Vegas was fun, and we wanted it to be just us. I don’t care how much more time I have with Lance, whether it’s a day, a week, a month, a year or forever. I’ll cherish every moment as Mrs. Alice LaClaire. He was worth the wait.