Zoe stood in front of an office space in South Beach, reading a sign embossed in a delicate scroll print—a very nice font for thank-you cards. Enchanted Events. She sneered before turning the handle and barging in.
Natalie was making coffee at a shabby-chic table in the corner. As the door swung open and banged against the wall, she gasped and spun around. The pot slipped from her hand. Dark roast splashed down the table linen, and leapt out of her cup to land on the front of her pale blue blazer.
Then Natalie saw who it was and the cup dropped from her hands. It broke and the rest of the contents splashed over her suede shoes and onto the cream area rug.
Zoe smiled, pleased at the results of her visit so far. She always knew how to make an entrance.
“Natalie.” She drew out her name in false affection. “How are you? It’s been so long.”
“Zoe! W-What are you doing here?” she stammered.
“I thought we could catch up. You know, have a little girl talk.” She strolled casually through the office, wrinkling her nose at the over-the-top romance decor. There were heart and kiss symbols, cheesy quotes about love and marriage, and stock photography of people holding hands. It was so clichéd, like cupid just exploded in the room.
Natalie shrank back as Zoe got closer. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said.
“Then why are you so nervous?”
Natalie made an attempt at drawing herself up. Straightening her coffee-stained blazer, she lifted her chin. “If those clients wanted your business instead of mine, they would have stayed with you.”
At least she wasn’t trying to deny what she did. Zoe had to give her that. “Hard for them to refuse the prices you’ve been advertising. No one in the industry is going to look kindly upon you when you’ve been undercutting every planner in the city.”
“This is a cutthroat business. You taught me that.”
“I also taught you to make friends, not enemies,” Zoe said. “It’s a very interdependent community. Everyone benefits when the wedding business thrives. It works off word-of-mouth, reputation. It can be very damaging to your career to make enemies.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes. “You’re one to talk.”
Zoe took a step forward, and Natalie automatically backpedaled, bumping against the shabby-chic table and spilling the creamer down the back of her skirt. Zoe smiled, and Natalie flinched.
It’s not like she’d ever hit the poor girl—mostly because that would be an unfair fight. However, it was too tempting to not toy with her a little, like a cat would a mouse.
Natalie’s eyes flitted to the French doors on the other side of the room. The golden lettering swirling across the frosted glass said Chelsea Carruthers.
Zoe had come to get answers, and not just about how Holly Hart had known about their appointment at Love and Lace bridal shop that day. She had bigger questions to ask first. And as much as she disliked Natalie at the moment, she knew she wasn’t capable of blowing up her office or cutting her brake lines.
Chelsea, on the other hand, was a wild card. She just had that vindictive, underhanded, sociopathic feel to her. So far, the cops had turned up nothing in their investigation. If they weren’t going to get the truth, then Zoe was going to have to.
She so hoped Chelsea was guilty. The satisfaction of seeing her behind bars while simultaneously eliminating her most annoying competition was a two-birds, one-stone scenario.
Zoe backed away from Natalie who now stood in a puddle of hazelnut creamer. “I’m not done with you.” Leaving Natalie to sweat a little, she headed for Chelsea’s office.
“You can’t go in there,” Natalie said, her voice a little squeaky.
“Don’t worry,” Zoe said. “I just want to talk.”
Natalie took a step forward, like she wanted to stop her, but then thought twice about it. “She’s not in.”
But Zoe knew she was lying because she could see a figure move behind the frosted glass. “Nice try.”
Gripping the handles, Zoe flung the doors open. She strolled into Chelsea’s office like she owned the place, a smug smile on her face. Only Natalie hadn’t been lying. Chelsea wasn’t in, but someone else was.
The person turned, and suddenly, she was staring down at her past.
“Sean.”
“Zoe? Zoe Plum, is that you?” Sean got to his feet. “Oh, my God.”
Zoe winced, like his geniality just slapped her in the face.
He smiled that brilliant smile of his like he was so happy to see her. Too brilliant, too white, too friendly for how she’d imagined him over and over again during the last six years. She’d imagined him ugly, and mean, and not worth missing for even a second. But he was just as good looking now as he was the day he’d dumped her.
Sean laughed in disbelief. Zoe recalled his laugh like it was a name she’d heard a million times. It used to sound so musical to her ears. Now it sounded like the wedding march—so overdone.
“It’s been so long,” he said. “How are you?”
He crossed the small office and reached out as though to give her a hug, as though they were a couple of old friends, as though he hadn’t turned her life—and her heart—upside down.
Without meaning to, Zoe found herself backpedaling into the reception area, just like Natalie had done a minute before. Her heart had stopped dead in her chest. In fact, part of her thought that would be best. Yes. She could just keel over right there on the Live, Laugh, Love carpet and then she wouldn’t have to come up with a response.
But when she didn’t die soon enough, her heart began to ache from lack of oxygen. She took a gasp of air, continuing to stare in disbelief. Sean’s expression never wavered. He still looked like he was an old friend wanting to catch up.
Zoe wasn’t about to pretend that this was some social call. She wasn’t one to hide her feelings at the best of times, far less the worst. And this was the worst.
But Sean was good at hiding his feelings. Because he’d pretended that he’d loved her, that he’d wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Pretended right up until the last possible moment. The moment when it really mattered.
Suddenly, Zoe remembered where they were: a wedding-planner’s office. That’s right, he was getting married—or at least trying to again. She felt her fingers and toes go numb as her body shunted all her blood to vital organs just to keep her alive. The ugly office went dark around the edges and she felt like she was going to pass out. Her upside-down-heart was struggling to keep up.
Out of some sick masochistic need, she heard herself ask the obvious. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for Chelsea.”
“Of course.” She nodded, not unlike a bobble head. “She … she told me that you’re getting married.”
“You’re obviously here to see her. She won’t be long if you wanted to wait.” He gestured to the other chair in her office, as though inviting her to sit with him.
She wondered why on earth he would invite her to wait for Chelsea. Didn’t he know they were practically enemies? Of course, Zoe realized, he doesn’t know.
Why would Chelsea tell him about their run-ins, about what a bitch she was being to his ex-fiancée? Zoe imagined that to get anyone to marry her, Chelsea probably had to hide her maliciousness. Lie about who she really was.
“No. Thank you. I think I’ll be going.”
“Are you sure?”
Right. Like she wanted to be near him for any longer than she had to be. Like she wanted to be in the same room with the two of them. As if Chelsea wouldn’t take full advantage of the situation, rub it in Zoe’s face just how much in love they were.
And what was wrong with Sean? Was he completely oblivious? No. Not oblivious, she thought. Just over it. He wouldn’t think twice about why this would be weird. Just like he probably hadn’t thought twice about her since their wedding day. She’d been the only one dwelling on it this whole time.
Zoe turned to leave, but Sean lurched forward. “Wait. Please. I think…” He ran a hand thought his thick, dark hair—and she’d so hoped that he’d be sporting a cul-de-sac by now. “I think that maybe we should talk. You know. Get things off our chest. Out in the open. Some closure.”
She stared at him as though he just told her he was a professional wrestler now. “Closure,” she repeated numbly.
“Maybe we can go grab a coffee. Catch up.” He smiled. God, he could be so damned charming when he wanted to be.
But not charming enough for her. Ever again. “No.” She shook her head, forcefully. The very idea nauseated her. “I can’t. I’m busy.”
“Too busy to catch up with an old friend?” he asked hopefully.
Zoe’s lip curled at the word “friend.” “Yes,” she said. “I-I’ve got a date.”
Natalie snorted. “A date?” She was still standing frozen by the coffee table, cream dripping onto the carpet as she watched the scene between Zoe and Sean unfold. Zoe had forgotten she was even in the room. That she even existed.
“You have a date?” Natalie asked pointedly.
They’d worked closely together for two years. Hearing no talk of a boyfriend, or having a date with a man, or even any mention of being interested in one, Natalie had probably made the assumption that Zoe was a hardened spinster—which wasn’t far from the truth, though Zoe preferred the term seasoned bachelorette.
Zoe glared at Natalie, daring her to challenge her story. “Yes. A date.”
Sean’s eyes took on that look of a hurt puppy, the one that prevented her from ever being able to stay mad at him for long—with the exception of his last screw-up. “With who?”
Between Sean’s undeserving look of betrayal and jealousy and Natalie’s disbelief, Zoe felt her face harden into a smooth mask. She wasn’t that hurt twenty-four-year-old anymore. She’d gotten over it—sort of.
She raised her chin. “My fiancé.”
Turning on her heel, she marched toward the door. On her way past Natalie’s desk, she spotted a turquoise daily planner lying next to her laptop. Zoe’s determined footsteps slowed as she considered it for a moment.
It was the same daily planner Natalie had used while working for Zoe. With Zoe’s favorite contacts, her favorite vendors, and her favorite suppliers—including wedding-dress shops. It would have had all the info for Piper’s wedding in it. Every last detail.
Reaching out, she swiped it off the desk and flipped through it. “Did you tell anyone about the wedding venue for Piper Summer’s wedding?” she asked Natalie.
Natalie looked affronted. “Of course not. Being professional means maintaining client confidentiality.”
“Except she’s not your client and you haven’t acted the least bit professional so far. Did you tell anyone?”
She scowled. “No.”
“Good. Keep it that way, or we’ll have to have another little chat.” She waved the daily planner in the air. “I’ll be confiscating this. And if you have a problem with that, take it up with Holly Hart.”
Natalie opened her mouth, an argument on her face, but before she could speak, Zoe turned her back on her two exes—assistant and fiancé. Marching out of the office, she slammed the door behind her and went to get ready to meet her future husband.