Chapter 56
Fifty-Six
Lexi
Over the next few days, the Ninth King of Rome pesters me about the vote results. Sure, closure would be good, but unless I break radio silence and contact the man who made it clear that his past means we can’t be together, I’m not going to know who won.
I swivel in my desk chair, staring at NKR’s fourth message nudge. It’s time to shut this down.
I lost contact with the other guy in the bet with me.
Surely not permanently. His heart is clearly taken with you. I saw the pictures.
I inhale sharply, then read the rest of his message.
If you give me his name, I could do a little digging from my end. See if I can find out from him who won.
Wow. You really can’t let this go, can you?
Hey. You handed this persistent dog a bone. Good luck prying it out of my teeth. ;)
That old-fashioned wink again. I find myself grinning for the first time in days.
I imagine him as a sixty-something-year-old man, maybe a bit puffed up with his photography skills in naming his account the Ninth King of Rome, yet behind the times with technology and social media.
Maybe he’s itching for some excitement to fill his retirement days.
He’d be looking for Mark in the Italian equivalent of the white pages. Cyberstalking is way beyond a punctuation-winky-user’s expertise.
Besides, it’s impossible to cyberstalk Mark. His internet footprint is nil. He told me he’s not on social media, but I checked anyway a few days ago, just to be sure. Like I said, useless tips for getting over a guy, available here.
Should I tell him? I would have given him Mark’s name anyway, if we’d used his IG account like originally planned.
Mark Russo. Architect. I stare at his name typed out on my phone for a beat too long, then hit send.
Thanks. Stand by.
How’s that for letting go? I’m getting my answer without Mark, without trying.
I slide my phone into a drawer, determined not to think about it for the rest of the day.
Let me tell you what you’ve already guessed, folks. That plan does not work, even filling my weekend schedule with a hike with friends and a movie in the theater.
How do you shut off love?
By Monday morning, I’m fidgeting, looking for something to do. A client canceled at the last minute and I absolutely can’t sit with nothing happening or I’ll start feeling.
A young couple comes into the office. Julie is picking out flowers for a formal gala event, so I stand. “Welcome to Flair Events. I’m Lexi Walker.”
“I’m Kathryn, and this is my fiancé, Noah. It’s nice to meet you.” She twists her gorgeous, thick, dark curls into a twist and clasps it in place with a clip.
Noah tugs a curl she missed, smiling at her in a way that breaks my romantic, hurt heart all over again. A little over a week ago, Mark tucked my hair behind my ear in the Vespa rental office, his look adoring and his half-smile emerging as the prologue to a joke. Now I have my hair all to myself.
“We’re looking for a wedding planner. I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment before coming in—should we make one now or . . .”
“No, I can fit you in for a preliminary meeting. Let’s move to our client meeting room.”
I grab my tablet and lead them past the tiny kitchen to a small, comfortable room with two couches and a coffee table with fresh hydrangeas in a vase. “Have a seat. Would you like anything to drink?”
They decline and sit. Kathryn smiles at me disarmingly. It’s a mix of sheepish awkwardness and kind interest. Noah settles his arm around her, clearly along for the ride but supportive.
“You come highly recommended.” She’s sweet and earnest, and I like her immediately.
“Oh?” I give her a chance to tell me who, but she plows ahead.
“We would have come in earlier, but we hadn’t settled on a date yet.” She glances at Noah, and he gives her a furtive, secretive smirk. “Is two months from now too soon?”
“Well, that depends on your chosen venue and how big a wedding you’d like.”
She points at me. “Yes. Venues. That’s the first thing we need to figure out. I’d love to have the wedding at Park Street Church and the reception—”
I grin. “Wait, if you’re sure you want us, we should sign the contract outlining the description of services first.”
She drops against the couch back. “Oh, sorry. It’s just all so exciting.”
I hand them the paperwork and they promise to read, fill out the blanks with their information, sign, and bring it to our next appointment.
Then she tells me about the church and the fountain in the Boston Common nearby.
I’ve never done a wedding there—honestly, we don’t even do too many weddings anymore.
We focus more on product launches, corporate events, digital strategy, and branding, so I’m very curious who recommended us.
“I can give the venue a call and see what they have open for early October.”
“Could we set up a time to look at it? Just so I can make sure it’s what I want.”
“Absolutely.”
I make the call and, with my hand covering the phone, pass along the offer of a tour two weeks from today.
Kathryn’s face falls. “Anything earlier? We’re available at the drop of a hat. Anytime at all.”
I chuckle. “Let me check.”
In the end, we settle on a week from tomorrow at noon. As they rise to leave, Kathryn gives me a quick hug. “Sorry. I know that’s weird but I’m just so excited.”
She pulls away, tears in her blue eyes. Tears? I wish. I ran out of those days ago.
Noah takes her hand and another deeply understanding smile passes between them, full of their history and love.
This might be the last wedding event I ever agree to do. It never used to be this hard.