16. Carly
CHAPTER 16
CARLY
T he two strangers both turn and stare at me with a grin, and I feel like kicking Gabe in the shins. Why would he announce this to them?
They’re an odd-looking couple — he’s tall, freckled, and wrapped up in a bright blue puffer jacket, his ginger curls poking out from beneath the hood. Meanwhile, Ruth is stylish, her outfit matching, from her jacket to her shoes to her gloves. Her dark skin glows with a clear care routine, and she’s obviously spent time picking out earrings that match her skin tone perfectly. She’s an effortless beauty and not at all the kind of person I would imagine to be engaged to John.
But she looks at him with such loving, wide eyes that it’s hard to see a universe where they wouldn’t be completely besotted with each other.
I feel like by meeting these people, I’m getting a glimpse into a life that Gabe is so reluctant to tell me about.
“A wedding planner?” says John. “Tell us more.”
“I usually work with high-end clients,” I say, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear and grimacing.
“Money’s not a problem,” says Ruth.
I open my mouth and close it again. How can I tell these people no in a way that doesn’t seem cruel?
“I tell you what, let’s go to the café,” says Gabe. “Let’s talk this out someplace warm.”
“Good plan,” agrees John.
We head off through the snow to the Bean Bistro, which I presume is the only cafe in town. A hot rush of coffee-scented air hits us as we enter, and I lower my hood, feeling my face flush as warmth returns to my cheeks.
It’s not busy, and we get served quickly. Again, the girl behind the counter treats Gabe like some sort of local celebrity, like she knows him personally and adores him. Sure, they probably all use his services from time to time. But this reaction is really shocking me.
I’ve seen that he’s a good man, but everyone acting like he’s a hero is the last thing I would have expected. He seems too reclusive for friends. He’s the kind of guy who actively shuns human connection.
But here we are in the cafe with his two friends, and in every store we’ve been into, the people at the checkout have known him by name.
He can be harsh and cold, but there must be a part of him that cares about other people, really. Why else would he offer me up to his friends? Why else would he have bought me a hot chocolate?
“So,” says Ruth. “What are your usual rates?”
“Okay, well. Most of the couples I work with are starting from square one, so they have no idea what they want or how to get it. For those kinds of people, I tend to offer a package where I help them with absolutely everything. For others who have more vision, I do offer an hourly rate, but often people just choose the package because it gives them peace of mind about what they’re getting.”
“All right, so we’re starting from nothing,” says John. “We would need your help with almost everything. How much would the package cost us?”
I swallow hard. Most of my clients are millionaires. They don’t come from small towns. They want luxury. For them, I charge extortionately, but for these two people, tens of thousands seems excessive.
Besides, I don’t think what they want will be half as complicated as what some of my nightmare brides demand.
I decide I should just lay it out straight with them. “Most of my clients are the kinds of people who need to invite hundreds of guests, to have photos in exclusive places, to book venues that are so fancy that I, as an average person, feel like a sham going to. For them, it’s usually around fifteen thousand dollars.”
I feel Gabe wince next to me. I continue. “But in a small town, unless you wanted something really complicated and difficult to arrange, I would probably lay out a package for about seven.”
“That’s okay,” says John.
“It is?” I ask.
“For sure. What you’re not realizing is that my wife-to-be is one of the top real estate brokers in the country.”
“I specialize in historic homes.” Ruth smiles, and I suddenly realize that she must get her teeth whitened and her clothes tailored. “I travel all over the country to view properties and help people buy their dream homes. We live comfortably.”
“Why do you still live here?” I ask and wince when I realize exactly how dismissive the question sounds.
Ruth laughs politely. “This is our home. We were born here. We have our friends here.” I don’t miss the look that she gives to Gabe, and though I’m desperate to ask what the situation is between the three of them, I don’t dare. “Why would we need to live anywhere else when we’re happy?”
I don’t have anything particularly to say to that. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy anywhere I’ve lived. I’ve never felt that attached to it.
“Well, if you’re willing to take me on,” I say, “Then yes, I can help you plan your wedding.”
Gabe gives me a curious look, and I glare at him. This isn’t what I want to be doing, but I’ve already lost the client I came all this way for, so I should at least try and recoup some of my losses.
“Wonderful,” says John. “So what do we do now?”
“I will write you up a full list of the steps we’re going to go through. Then we’ll meet to talk about the kind of wedding you want. You know, church or non-religious, bright colors, subdued colors, big, small, extravagant reception. That kind of thing. Then I’ll go away and research how to make that happen for you.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” says John. “We were really worrying about this. Why don’t you find girls on the side of the road more often, Gabe?” Gabe bristles beside me, but John doesn’t back down. “She’s staying with you? Mrs. Andrews said so.”
“Yes,” says Gabe through gritted teeth. “She is staying with me. In the spare room,” he adds quickly. “And she’s welcome to for as long as she’s helping you guys.”
“I am?” I say, turning to him.
Underneath his beard, he’s blushing profusely. This is not the reaction I was expecting from him. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says quickly.
“I think that would be wonderful. Thank you.”
And I’m not just saying it because I want to spend more time with him. It really would help my finances to not have to pay for a hotel or transportation.
Suddenly, this small town seems a lot more appealing.
Suddenly, it seems like I am going to get to know Gabe after all.
I can’t pretend that that idea isn’t tantalizing. He’s a fascinating guy, and I feel like if I try, I can get through to him. And now I’m going to have plenty more chances. I want to get to know the real Gabe underneath all the grump.
“Great. Well, if you two are happy with everything, then why not? I’ll plan your wedding. I’ll stick around.”