Enemies, Lovers & A Valentine’s Baby

Prologue

The Rehearsal - Lila

“Lila, there’s something wrong with the seating arrangement,” Katie, my assistant, says to me as she walks hastily towards me.

“What?” I mutter. I’m already spiraling out of control here. I really can’t afford for anything to be out of place.

“The seating arrangement is all wrong! Somehow the arrangements got messed up because we have nowhere to seat the bride’s mother, Georgia Andrews,” she says frantically, staring down at the guest list in her hand.

“What do you mean there’s nowhere to seat Sue’s mom? I personally placed name tags on each seat.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, because someone else is sitting at the table where the bride’s mom should be, and it’s definitely not her.”

Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I wring my hands nervously, willing myself to stay calm.

I’m already at my wits’ end making sure that everything is going exactly as it should for this wedding. I’ve been an event planner for years, but this one means more to me than any event I’ve ever planned before.

Because it’s my best friend’s wedding. Everything has to go perfectly.

Seriously? How can anyone miss the huge name cards I placed on each seat?

“We gotta figure this out fast because she’s starting to get impatient,” Katie whispers, staring at the front of the room where Sue’s mom is looking annoyed, waiting to be brought to her seat.

I glance frantically around the decorated hall, momentarily pausing to admire my work. I really outdid myself, if I do say so myself. Everything is stunning.

I hope Sue likes it as much as I do. I wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams, and I still very much intend to—right after I fix this little issue.

“Come on, let’s go figure this out,” I say.

I walk over to the table reserved for the bride’s family and close friends, Katie hot on my heels. I pretty much know her entire circle, so it shouldn’t take me long to spot the unfamiliar face who shouldn’t be there.

As we get closer, my eyes zoom across all the faces. They’re all familiar, except for one man who sits in the seat that had been reserved for Sue’s mom.

He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, a head full of dark hair angled downwards, peering at his phone.

He’s the reason for this mix-up.

“Excuse me,” I call softly, plastering a smile on my face to make sure the interaction goes smoothly. I just need to get him to move to his seat before Sue’s mom completely loses her patience.

“Sir?” I call again when he continues to ignore me. Finally, he raises his head up.

The first thing I notice is gray.

I’m met with the most intense gray eyes I’ve ever seen, with hints of blue. Sharp, bright, calculating, and impossible to miss. Captivating in the kind of way that has you staring hypnotically into them against your will.

Right now they look like a storm is brewing in them.

His full lips are set in a tight line, brows drawn tightly together, pulling me back to the matter at hand.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his displeasure at being interrupted from whatever he was doing on his phone.

The smile quickly drops from my face at the sharpness in his tone. I was going to be sweet about it, but his reaction has me unsure what to say next.

“You’re, um—”

“Do you have a speech impediment or something?” he mutters impatiently.

My brows lift at his remark.

“Excuse me?” I say, taken aback by his rudeness.

“Look, lady, I’m busy, so if you have something to say to me, you need to say it now.”

Lady?

Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“You’re in the wrong seat,” I say coldly, crossing my arms in front of me.

I was going to say it to him nicely, but since he wants to be an asshole about it, we can play it his way.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re in the wrong seat. The names are literally written right there,” I say, gesturing to the name cards on the table in front of each seat.

“Who the hell are you to tell me where I can or can’t sit?” he snarls, setting down his phone and glaring up at me

“I’m the event planner, so I—”

“So, if there’s a mix-up then it’s your fault, right? Isn’t it your job to make sure everything goes smoothly? Shouldn’t seating arrangements be the bare minimum of what you should be able to get right?”

His tone is condescending.

“Apparently you are both blind and dense, because unless your name is Georgia Andrews, you have no business sitting at this table. Or did you miss the very large name card right here?” I fire back.

His eyes harden, narrowing into little slits.

“You’re not very bright yourself, are you? That’s probably why you’re working as a glorified server who still can’t do the one thing she’s paid to do—get seating arrangements right.” Disgust is written all over his face as he turns away from me.

Anger coils inside me like a tight rope.

“What did you just say to me?” I ask, my eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

“You heard me.”

His body is tense, face set in a hard expression that would’ve unnerved me if I wasn’t so furious.

“I’d like to hear you say it again,” I say, taking a step forward.

“Come on, Lila. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go,” Katie says softly from behind me, her hand nudging my shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, Lila, let it go. Scurry back to whatever little hole you crawled out of, or find someone else to bother, ‘cause I’m not the one,” he waves his hand dismissively.

I grit my teeth, unable to believe that this is really happening.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yes. But at least I’m not a glorified server parading myself as an ‘event planner.’” He adds air quotes for emphasis. “What did you say you do here, exactly? You’re the event planner and you can’t even figure out the basic logistics of seating arrangements? You literally have one job and you screw it up. Doesn’t that make you a failure?”

I wince at his sharp words. They cut through me like knives, a dull ache starting low in my chest.

“It’s not my fault that you are too blind to see the—”

“Of course, here we go again with the half-assed excuses. If you were half as good at your job as you claim to be, then you would know that I’m supposed to be seated at this table.

I stare at him with a puzzled look on my face.

“If I’m not supposed to be in this seat, then where exactly am I supposed to be?” he says, voice full of hostility.

I open my mouth, but my voice threatens to fail me. I hate that there’s a slight tremor in it when I start to speak. Rage burns through me at his unnecessary meanness and my eyes gleam with tears.

I blink them back rapidly, doing my best to make sure they don't drop.

I will not give this man the satisfaction of watching me break.

“This table is reserved for family and close friends. You’re not meant to be—”

“And what, pray tell, would you call the best friend of the groom?” he asks smugly, crossing his arms as he waits for my response.

I’m taken aback for a second. This is Greg’s best friend? Shit! Greg and Sue are practically eloping based on the speed of this wedding. He literally proposed a month after meeting her, and here we are two months later, which is why this is the first time that I am meeting his best friend. Not the way I envisioned our first interaction.

“Your seat is right...” The words die in my throat as I notice his name card is not where it should be at the table. My mouth opens and closes repeatedly, but no words come out.

“That’s the guest list in your hand, right?” He ignores me and gestures to Katie behind me, still clutching the guest list folder in her hands.

“Check it then. Cole Matthews?” I already know what it’s going to show.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I went over the guest list a hundred times with Sue and Greg. They were very specific about who they wanted at this table. Their parents, extended family, and—Greg’s best friend who would be flying in from Seattle to attend the wedding.

How could I have missed this? I feel like I’ve gone over every detail even in my sleep! I need to make this right.

Greg had made it very clear how he felt about him. He’d gone on and on about how this guy had been his best pal since they were teenagers in high school. Apparently, his work had him in a different city every month or so, but he would be flying into Boston for the wedding.

Greg wanted me to make sure he had the best view at the wedding and would be seated with his family. Apparently, this guy was like a brother to him, and I…messed it up. I somehow didn’t reserve a seat for him.

I can tell this isn’t going to end well. This guy seems to be in no mood to hear any excuses or apologies.

Katie opens the folder, her eyes skimming over it hastily. I already know what she’s going to find even before she says the words.

“It’s…here,” she mutters reluctantly.

“Look, I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews, but—” I start, but he cuts me off again.

“But? You’re still going to try and defend your incompetence? What, you can’t even get an apology right?” He smirks, eyes gleaming at me with malicious intent.

“Sir!” Katie exclaims. “You’re crossing the line; it was an honest mistake.”

My bottom lip threatens to quiver, but I force my face into a stoic, expressionless mask.

“If you can’t even get this small thing right, then I’d hate to see what the rest of your life looks like. Maybe it’s time to reevaluate your life choices and find out exactly what it is you’re good at, ‘cause this ain’t it.” He smirks.

“You’re too old to not have your shit together, and to not have an actual talent. This,” he gestures around the decorated hall, “is not what you’re good at. It’s a crutch, because you’re too lazy to actually do anything with your life!” He chuckles humorlessly.

The dull ache in my chest morphs into this intense pain that threatens to suffocate me. My eyes brim with tears, his words piercing through me like arrows. Yet, he still doesn’t stop. How can someone as great as Greg be best friends with someone like this?

“You aren’t going to cry, are you? God. Women,” he sighs disgustedly, shaking his head.

“Always playing the victim. Always so good at manipulating to get their way,” he mutters, his own voice laced with venom.

There’s a faraway look in his eyes now, almost as if he’s talking about someone else. Only I’m the one standing in front of him.

“You’re the one who came up to me. You’re the one who tried to get me to leave my table. You’re the one who made the mistake that brought all of this on. Yet somehow, I’m the bad guy for telling you the truth.”

“Sir, you’re really overstepping—” Katie starts.

There’s a loud buzzing sound in my ears, and suddenly, a wave of nausea and lightheadedness rolls over me as my lungs struggle to take in air.

The last thing I remember is those tears that I tried so hard to hold in finally breaking through and rolling down my cheeks as my legs give way and I drop to the floor.