Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
HAYES
T he phone had been glued to my ear all morning, a constant stream of hold music and robotic voices interrupting my thoughts. Wedding vendors were a special breed, equal parts efficient and maddeningly disorganized. Most of the payments went through smoothly, but a few speed bumps reminded me that even the most polished event planners could stumble.
I never imagined I would be a guy organizing a wedding. Technically, I wasn’t organizing it, but I was the one making calls and handing over my credit card. It was all very tedious. I pretty much had my credit card number memorized at this point.
But whatever I could do to help Kathy and my father have a smooth wedding was worth it. They weren’t exactly spring chickens. They didn’t need to be dealing with all this tedious garbage. We all agreed to take on as much of the burden as we could and allow them to coast through the next couple of weeks.
I leaned back in my chair, staring out the window of my office while I waited on hold. Manhattan bustled below, taxis weaving through the streets and pedestrians dodging each other on the sidewalks. It was usually a scene that grounded me, but today it felt like white noise.
What bothered me wasn’t the endless emails or the payment confirmations. It was the way my mind wandered when things went quiet. More than once, I found myself zoning out, picturing choices I’d make if it were my wedding I was planning. Specifically, if it were Dixie and me. I imagined her in a beautiful dress, that kind of ethereal, flowing gown that would make her look like she floated rather than walked. My whole family would be there to watch us exchange vows.
The hold music abruptly stopped, snapping me back to reality. “Hello, Mr. Bancroft? Thank you for waiting. Your order for the custom flower arrangements has been confirmed,” said a cheerful voice on the other end.
“Thank you,” I murmured, my thoughts still half on Dixie.
“Is there anything else you need help with?” the voice asked. “Any arrangements for your home or office?”
“No thank you.” I ended the call and looked at the list of people I was supposed to be calling. Next, was the ice sculpture guy.
With a resigned sigh, I dialed the number for the ice sculpture service, once again preparing for a brief spell of hold music and the inevitable small talk. The phone rang exactly four times before a gruff voice answered.
“Vic’s Ice Sculptures, this is Vic speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Vic, this is Hayes Bancroft. We have a booking for an ice sculpture for a wedding?—”
“Ah, yes, Bancroft. You’re getting the dual swans, right?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed, twirling the pen in my hand as I spoke.
“We’re all set on our end.”
“Just wanted to confirm it’ll be delivered to the venue by three?”
“Yeah, we’ll have it there. And just to double-check,” his voice took on a note of professional caution, “this venue has someone who can guide where to place it? Those pieces need steady hands and a calm environment for placement.”
“Absolutely, there will be someone from the venue’s event coordination team. They have all the details,” I assured him.
“Perfect,” Vic responded, his voice easing a bit. “Anything else you need from my side?”
“No, that’s it for now, thanks.”
“Alright, if anything changes or more needs come up, give me a holler right away.”
“Will do. Thanks, Vic.”
“Have an ice day,” he said and hung up.
I shook my head slightly, appreciating a decent pun, and tried to refocus on the task at hand. I knew Dixie would think an ice sculpture was too much, but I would do it anyway. Maybe not swans. Something like doves seemed like her speed.
The Maldives had done a number on me. Her laughter, the way her skin glowed in the sun, the ease with which she charmed my family—it had all been intoxicating. I didn’t just “have it bad,” as my brothers and cousins had teased. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with her.
That was crazy. I never imagined I would be the type to fall in love with anyone, let alone have it happen within a matter of weeks. It was such a wild feeling to be walking through life without knowing you were missing anything and then one day everything changed. Now, I was debating between lilies and roses for my own wedding.
I needed a break. I checked the time. I was cutting out early and meeting Ryan for a drink. He’d texted a few times asking to get together. I felt guilty. I had a feeling he was going to ask why I bailed on his party after being there five minutes.
The bar we’d chosen was a low-key spot, far removed from the sleek, upscale lounges I usually found myself in. It was the kind of place with wood-paneled walls and scuffed floors, where no one cared who you were as long as you tipped well and didn’t start trouble. I spotted Ryan at a table near the back, already nursing a beer.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” he said with a grin.
“Traffic,” I replied, taking the seat across from him. “You’d think the city would thin out after the holidays, but nope.”
We made small talk for a bit—work, the chaos of city life—but it wasn’t long before the conversation turned to his new home.
“She’s got me working overtime,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I thought we were done once we moved in, but apparently, ‘making it ours’ is a full-time job.”
I laughed. “You’re well on your way to a beautiful life together.”
He groaned. “Beautiful is the key word. We bought that place because it was turn-key. You saw it. I thought it was perfect. Pamela says otherwise. She said it’s not really ours. Our names are on the deed and we have the keys, which I think means it is ours. We’ve lived there for over two months now, but she said it’s not ours. She wants to put her touch on things.”
“She’s got a point,” I said, taking a sip of my beer. “It doesn’t truly feel like home until you’ve both left your mark on it. It’s about making memories, right? Personalizing it makes those walls more than just a structure.”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s just all these renovations and decorations are eating up every weekend. And my bank account.”
“It’ll be worth it,” I reassured him. “Once it’s all done, you’ll sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Plus, Pamela will love you even more for embracing her ideas.”
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “When did you become Dr. Love?”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied, grinning. “Just been doing a lot of thinking lately, especially with the wedding planning for Dad and Kathy. Makes you reflect on what’s important.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of things that are important.” He looked around like he was afraid someone might be listening. “My kid is going to be born soon. I’m starting to get a little nervous.”
I grinned, genuinely happy for him. “Ryan, you’re going to be a great dad. You’d be missing a few screws if you weren’t nervous.”
He looked both excited and a little terrified, the way all soon-to-be dads probably did. The good ones anyway. “Thanks. I hope so. I mean, how hard can it be, right?”
“Yeah, it’s just a human being,” I teased. “No parents have ever messed up their children.”
“Pamela is going a little crazy with the nursery planning,” he said.
I laughed again, shaking my head sympathetically. “Prepare for more paint samples and fabric swatches than you ever wanted to see in your life. My brother went through this recently.”
“Yeah.” Ryan rubbed his temple, then smiled. “She’s already talking about themes and color schemes. Something about a safari adventure.”
“That sounds like it’ll be an adventure for you too,” I said with a laugh.
“Just wait until this is happening to you,” he said. “Although I think you’re pretty dedicated to being a bachelor.”
“Actually, I’m not sure about that anymore.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been seeing someone for a few weeks,” I said.
“You?” he asked with genuine surprise.
“Yes, me.”
“Who is this woman?”
“Actually, you know her,” I said. “I met her at your housewarming party.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“Dixie.”
“Dixie?” He looked confused. “Wait, Pamela’s old high school friend? The one that does furniture or something?”
“That’s the one.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Why not?” I asked, keeping my tone light but feeling a protective edge creeping in.
I couldn’t explain what it was exactly that he said or did, but it had me going on the defensive.
He shrugged. “She’s just her own person, you know? Walks to the beat of her own drum.”
“Exactly,” I said, leaning forward. “That’s the draw.”
Ryan smirked, but his expression stayed friendly. “Relax. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. She’s bold, beautiful, free-spirited—everything you’re not, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly.
“Hey, opposites attract, right?” He took a sip of his beer. “It’s just, she can be a bit of a flake sometimes. You know that, right?”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Well, look at our housewarming. Pamela invited her, and she bailed. No call, no text. Just up and left without saying a word.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You realize I also left without saying a word, right?”
Ryan laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fair point. But billionaires are flaky, too.”
I didn’t argue, but his words rubbed me the wrong way. Ryan wasn’t being malicious, but I didn’t like hearing Dixie criticized, even casually.
“We left together,” I told him. “Your wife was trying to set her up with some loser.”
“Paul is a good guy,” he said.
“Maybe, but he’s not for Dixie. They had nothing in common.”
“And you do?”
Ryan’s skepticism was like a cold splash of water, but it sparked something defiant within me. His doubt made me want to explain—no, to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove to him what I felt for Dixie wasn’t just a passing fancy. It was something deeply rooted.
“Yes, we do,” I said. “More than you might think.”
He eyed me curiously. “Like?”
“For starters, we both appreciate the simple things.”
“Since when do you like the simple things?” he asked with a laugh.
“Since she’s shown me how nice it is to just hang out.”
He seemed to back down a little. “Look, my wife’s known her for a long time. Dixie’s always been the black sheep of her family. She’s not like her sister, or anyone else for that matter. But she’s got her own charm. Her family is more like yours.”
“What does that mean?”
“Successful. Refined.”
“And you don’t think Dixie is any of those things.”
“I think Dixie would be perfectly happy living in a paint shop and wearing her overalls every day,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong. “And that’s just fine if that’s her choice.”
He laughed. “Shit, you’re already defending her.”
“I guess I am. I think there’s a lot of pressure to be this perfect version of oneself. Sometimes it’s better to be happy in your own skin rather than trying to make everyone else happy.”
“Alright, alright,” he said with a smile. “Easy, tiger.”
Ryan wasn’t wrong about Dixie being different, but that was exactly what I liked about her. She wasn’t afraid to be herself, even if it didn’t fit into neat little boxes. I was so bored with people like that. It was a little cliche, but she was a breath of fresh air. She made me feel like a new person.
By the time we finished our drinks and parted ways, I was more than ready to leave the bar behind. The day had been long.
As I stepped onto the sidewalk, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and smiled as her name lit up the screen.
Dixie: Hey, come over later?
Whatever stress or irritation I’d felt melted away, replaced by a warmth I couldn’t quite explain.
Me: Wouldn’t miss it.
That just made my day a lot better. I couldn’t believe how much I missed her.