Chapter 32
MANDY
Istared out the car window as Briggs navigated the pre-dawn streets toward the airfield.
The city was still dark, just a few early risers and delivery trucks breaking the silence.
I should have told him not to bother and he needed sleep before court, but I was glad he insisted on personally driving me.
I knew he didn’t drive all that often. And after being in Manhattan traffic, I completely understood.
And to know he was doing something he hated just to spend an extra thirty minutes with me meant a lot.
His hand found mine across the center console, fingers lacing together like they belonged that way.
“You could have slept another hour,” I said quietly.
“I wanted to take you.”
This man who scheduled everything down to the minute, who valued efficiency above almost all else, had gotten up at four-thirty in the morning just to drive me to the airport.
We pulled through the gates of the private airfield. The jet was already on the tarmac, lit up and waiting. Briggs parked and killed the engine, but neither of us moved.
“So,” he said.
“So.”
He turned to look at me, his face barely visible in the dim light. “Call me when you land?”
“Of course.”
“And if the groomzilla gives you any trouble, I’ll be on the next flight out there. “
“I can handle him,” I said, but I was smiling.
“I know you can.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to miss you.”
My throat tightened. “I’m going to miss you too.”
He leaned across the console and kissed me. It was slow and thorough and tasted like goodbye. It was supposed to be a see you soon.
Except it didn’t feel like see you soon.
He walked me to the plane, carrying my bag despite my protests. At the bottom of the stairs, he pulled me into his arms.
“Text me,” he said against my hair.
“I will.”
“Every day.”
“Every day,” I promised.
One more kiss, and then I forced myself to pull away. If I didn’t go now, I might not go at all.
I climbed the stairs without looking back, because I knew if I did, I’d see him standing there watching me leave, and I’d probably run back down.
The flight attendant greeted me with a warm smile and offered coffee. I accepted gratefully and settled into one of the cream leather seats. The engines hummed to life beneath me.
I pulled out my phone and sent Briggs a quick text.
Me: Thank you for this morning. Go kill it in court today.
His response came almost immediately.
Briggs: Already miss you. Safe flight.
The plane began to taxi. I watched through the window as the city lights grew smaller, then disappeared entirely as we climbed into the dark sky.
And that’s when the tears came.
I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sob that wanted to escape.
This was ridiculous. I was crying over a man I’d known for less than a month.
A man I’d accidentally married while blackout drunk.
A man who lived on the opposite coast and had a life that had absolutely nothing to do with mine.
Except he didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like home.
I grabbed a tissue from my purse and tried to pull myself together. The flight attendant was being very polite about pretending not to notice my mini breakdown.
How had this happened? How had Briggs Blackwell gone from the most infuriating man I’d ever met to someone I couldn’t imagine not having in my life?
We’d been on what, four dates? Five if I counted our wedding night, which I didn’t remember, so I wasn’t sure it counted. This should still be the casual phase. The getting-to-know-you phase. The are-we-going-to-be-a-thing phase.
Instead, I was married to him. Temporarily living with him. Falling for him.
I’d fallen for him. That was the truth I’d been avoiding. Somewhere between the karaoke and the carriage ride and the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I’d gone and fallen in love with my fake husband.
I wiped my eyes and took a shaky breath.
I needed to get it together. I had a full day ahead of me, starting with a meeting about cake and ending with God knew what kind of wedding emergency.
These were what my days were about. I spent my days putting out little fires.
It kept me busy. Did I really have time for a husband?
The sun was starting to rise as we flew west. I watched it and thought about how Briggs was probably already at the courthouse by now, putting on his armor and preparing for battle.
I pulled up our text thread and typed out another message.
Me: I hate that I already miss you this much. This is your fault for being so perfect.
I hit send before I could overthink it, then immediately regretted being so vulnerable. But it was true. He was perfect. For me, at least. It was definitely cheesy, but I didn’t care.
My phone buzzed.
Briggs: Not perfect. But I’m glad you think so. Miss you too. More than I should after only a few hours.
I smiled through the tears that were threatening to start again.
By the time we landed in LA, I’d managed to compose myself.
I texted Briggs that I’d made it safely, grabbed my bag, and took an Uber home.
My house looked the same as always, but somehow emptier.
I dropped my bag in the entryway and stood in the middle of my living room, feeling displaced in my own home.
My phone rang. Cleo.
“Hey,” I answered. “I’m just grabbing my briefcase and then I have to meet my clients in two hours.”
“How was New York?”
“Good. Really good.”
“You sound sad.”
I sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s meet for coffee,” she said.
I considered what I needed to accomplish and then said fuck it.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
I didn’t have to say where. It was the same place we always got coffee.
When I walked into the very busy coffee shop, I spotted Cleo with her big dark sunglasses on. In LA, everyone wore their sunglasses inside. I was pretty sure they were all hoping people would mistake them for celebrities.
“Okay, spill,” she said when I sat down with my iced mocha. “What happened?”
“I think I’m in love with him,” I said. The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “With Briggs. I think I’m actually in love with him.”
Cleo’s face broke into a huge smile. “That’s a good thing, right? I mean, he’s your husband.”
“Is it?” I sipped my drink and mulled over the thoughts plaguing me. “We live on opposite sides of the country. He has his life in New York, I have mine here. This whole thing was supposed to be temporary. A business arrangement that got a little out of hand.”
“But it’s not temporary anymore.”
“Isn’t it?” I felt tears pricking at my eyes again.
“What are we supposed to do? I can’t move to New York.
My entire business is here. My clients, my vendors, my reputation—it’s all built on being the LA wedding planner.
And I can’t ask him to leave New York. His family is there, the company headquarters, his entire life. ”
Cleo was quiet for a moment, studying me. “Have you talked to him about this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m scared.” I pulled off my sunglasses and rubbed my eyes. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this was just a fun few weeks for him and I’m over here falling apart because I had to leave him for one day?”
“Mandy.” Cleo grabbed my hands, forcing me to look at her. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen you date. I’ve never, ever seen you look at someone the way you look at him. And more importantly, I’ve never seen anyone look at you the way he looks at you.”
“How does he look at me?”
“Like you hung the moon and the stars and he can’t quite believe you’re real.”
I couldn’t stop the smile.
“But what if the distance is too much?” I asked quietly. “What if we can’t make it work?”
“What if you can?” Cleo squeezed my hands. “Look, I’m not going to lie and say long distance is easy. It sucks. But you know what sucks more? Not trying. Giving up on something real because you’re scared of the logistics.”
“Logistics are huge,” I said. “Not going to lie, I like having sex with him and I just don’t think phone sex is going to do it for me.”
She laughed. “Way too much information.”
“Sorry, but you know what I mean. How are we supposed to go weeks or months without seeing each other?”
“Give it time,” Cleo said. “You’ll figure it out. And in the meantime, you’ll see each other. It’s not like you’re never going to be in the same place again. People with spouses in the military do it all the time. You just have to learn how to make it work.”
“I know.” I wiped at my eyes. “It just hurt more than I expected, leaving him this morning.”
“That’s because you’re in love with him.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I really am.”
The alarm on my phone went off. I groaned and shook my head. “I have to go deal with this groomzilla. We’re going to have to have guests sign waivers before they eat this diabetes-inducing cake.”
“Come on. You’re Mandy Carter. You eat groomzillas for breakfast.”
“I wish that were true.”
We said our goodbyes and I was off to the bakery.
It was a small boutique operation run by a woman named Marie who made the most incredible cakes I’d ever tasted.
She catered to the rich and sometimes famous.
Her cakes were not the basic chocolate or vanilla.
They were exquisite. No dry, boring cakes.
She was already waiting when I arrived, looking as exhausted as I felt.
I hated that I had to come to her with more drama, but she was used to it.
When you catered to the type of people we did, there were always those that tended to be just a bit more… exacting.
“Did you make it?” I asked.
I had called her yesterday when I got the phone call and told her what I needed.
Marie grimaced. “I did. I’m almost afraid to put my name on it.”
“I know. I agree it’s a lot. They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
When they arrived, I immediately picked up on the tension. The bride was clearly not happy about the change in the cake situation.
“Mandy!” The groom’s voice was higher than usual, which was never a good sign. “We have a situation.”
“Another one?”
“The napkins.”
I took a deep breath. “What about the napkins?”
“They’re the wrong shade of cream.”
“We ordered antique cream. That’s what you approved.”
“I know, but now that I’m looking at them next to the tablecloths, they’re too yellow. We need ivory.”
I closed my eyes and counted to five. “Okay. I’ll handle it.”
“And the programs— “
“What about the programs?”
“The font. It’s too modern. We need something more classic.”
“We approved that font three months ago. I don’t think we can get the printer to change them this close to the wedding.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking we could pay a rush fee. “
“I’ll handle it,” I said again, keeping my voice calm. “I’ll get you new samples by Friday.”
“Thank you, Mandy. You’re the best.”
I forced a smile. “Let’s eat cake.”
The rest of the day was a blur of phone calls and meetings.
More fires to deal with, but at least the cake was settled.
By the time I got home, it was late. It felt strange to walk into my empty house.
I checked my phone for the first time in two hours.
There was a missed call from Briggs and several texts.
I messaged him back, but I didn’t call. It was one in the morning in New York. He’d be asleep.
We’d catch up in the morning.
I hoped.