Chapter 12 Lexie
Annabelle’s words send a ripple of fear through me. Has she been waiting all this time to corner me about what happened between Theo and me in the lobby? I’m not even sure how to name it myself—but whatever it was, it wasn’t what I’d planned for today, and it certainly didn’t feel innocent.
I guide her to a small table in the center of the floor while actively trying not to pass out. “Is everything okay?”
Once we slink into the chairs, she glances behind her shoulder to where Theo’s standing in line and sighs. “I can’t stop thinking about our conversation.” Oh, thank God. “And, well, you signed an NDA, so this is confidential, right?”
“Yes, of course,” I say as I prop my elbows on the table and lean forward.
After another deep breath, she says, “In your experience, can you tell when a couple isn’t going to make it?”
Oh, shit. She just dove right in and skipped all conversational foreplay.
I get the sense she doesn’t have a lot of people she can confide in.
There’s no mom or doting mother-in-law, no maid of honor at her side, no best friend.
The best she’s got is practically a stranger who’s paid to help plan her wedding.
I should keep things professional, but the notes of vulnerability in her voice, the way her eyes search mine for reassurance, makes me put aside my biases.
She needs a friend right now, not someone holding on to a near decade-long grudge.
“Every couple’s situation is different, and it’s hard to give you a black and white answer.” I steal a glance at Theo from the corner of my eye, measuring how long Annabelle and I have before he returns. Theo will have my head if he finds out we’re having this conversation.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he turns towards us and his gaze catches mine.
His eyes narrow, clearly not trusting me—I honestly don’t blame him—and a sick satisfaction grows knowing I have this power over him.
The line moves forward and he shifts back to the counter.
A warm hand on my own shakes my attention back to Annabelle.
What am I doing? She doesn’t deserve any of this. I need to choose my words carefully and make sure she hears me, because someone like her deserves happiness.
“But I can try to help if you tell me what’s going on,” I continue. “In my experience working in the industry, I’ve picked up on certain patterns.”
With a shaky finger, she tucks a long, dark lock behind her ear.
“When we started talking about getting married, it just… made sense. I mean, I’ve known him my whole life.
We’ve been on and off since we were teenagers.
” She exhales, thin and unsteady. “It felt like the inevitable next step. And our families—” She shakes her head.
“That part’s complicated. There are expectations.
” Her hand twists her ring. “And… shit.” She glances over her shoulder again. “So, what are the patterns?”
I take a moment, choosing my words carefully. “There’s one thing I’ve noticed over the years,” I say softly. “When couples are excited—or even nervous—they usually become more themselves.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“They have stronger opinions, clearer preferences. More emotional presence,” I continue. “Even anxiety has an energy to it. It takes up space.” I hesitate, then add, “Excitement does too.”
Theo still hasn’t moved up the line. I refocus on Annabelle.
“But when you and Theo first came in,” I say gently, “what stood out to me wasn’t nerves or excitement. It was how… careful you seemed.”
Her fingers continue twisting the ring.
“Like you were editing yourself,” I continue. “Choosing your words. Shrinking your reactions. As if part of you was already adjusting to fit the future instead of imagining it.”
She swallows.
“That doesn’t mean the relationship is wrong,” I say quickly. “But when someone starts to feel smaller—quieter—before the marriage even begins, that’s something worth paying attention to.” I meet her eyes. “Because marriage shouldn’t require you to disappear.”
I let the silence stretch, giving her space to sit with it.
I remember feeling like something was off and couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
But after stewing, it became clear. Brides especially are giddy, ask a ton of questions, and usually take their own notes.
When I escort them from our office, they pepper in more and more questions until the elevator pings.
But Annabelle was more indifferent than smiley.
So, yes. I’m just doing my public service duty by pointing this out. But I’m also saving her. No doubt in my mind that she’ll be better off without Theo.
Through the hum of travelers rolling bags, phone conversations, and the soft hiss of espresso brewing, she stays silent as her gaze sweeps the hotel lobby.
Theo inches closer to the barista, and my pulse thuds harder. The cheek gnawing and ring spinning increases, but she’s silent. Theo’s now chatting with the barista and pulling out his wallet. Come on, Annabelle. She’s so close, but our window for talk time is narrowing by the second.
“And now, you’re having cold feet,” I say, gently, waiting for a brace in her shoulders, but she only deflates. “You went from not feeling any excitement at all to cold feet. Why do you think that is?”
Well, look at me go. I would’ve made a good therapist after all had Theo not destroyed those dreams.
She keeps her eyes on her hands. “Honestly, I don’t know.
I mean, I love Theo. He checks all the boxes.
Smart. Good looking. He’s a doctor. Gives back to the community.
” My breath locks. She needs to do this on her own, to have agency in this decision, but she needs to hurry the hell up.
I’m just leading her to what she already knows is the truth: she is too goddamn good for him.
“I tend to be, I guess more… flexible. And Theo’s just very intense sometimes. He likes control. A lot of control.” She says this with a little chuckle, but heat barrels through me.
“Wait. Does he ever…” I don’t want to say it. Theo is a lot of things, but…
Her head snaps up. “Oh God no. No. He’s a good man. He would never, ever hurt a woman. Ever.”
I can see it in her eyes. She’s telling the truth. But he doesn’t get a gold star for the bare minimum of not laying a hand on a woman. He still ruins people’s lives. He still destroyed mine all those years ago. And if Annabelle stays with him, he’ll ruin hers, too.
“I’m just not sure what to do here.” Her voice cracks. “I keep thinking about what you said. If someone has cold feet, there’s probably a reason why.”
And there it is. I’m not trying to exploit her pain, but she has to see this.
She’s kind, generous, the sort of woman who could spend her days sailing on yachts and shopping, yet instead chooses to run a non-profit.
We’re currently sitting at a four-star hotel—at best—and she has not made one snide remark, not even a single scoff, about having her wedding at a place like this.
Run, Annabelle. As fast and as far as you possibly can.
“So, what are you going to do?” I ask.
A long moment passes. Concern flickers across her face.
This could all disappear if she just left him.
Once she has distance, the fog he’s wrapped her in would lift.
“I honestly don’t know,” she says. “My grandmother is having some health issues at the moment. She keeps asking me to come join her in Italy.” She worries her lip, visibly conflicted.
“But with the wedding and everything,” she says, sliding her chair a little closer to the table, “I just don’t know if it’s feasible for me to leave. ”
I place a gentle, reassuring hand over hers. “It is absolutely feasible. I can handle the logistics. We can do virtual site visits, daily updates, video calls—whatever you need.”
The words tumble out before I can stop them.
And then it hits me. If she goes to Italy, it leaves me alone with him. I don’t want that. Not at all.
But I want even less for Annabelle to stay and quietly ruin her own life.
Across the room, Theo is already at the counter, saying something to the barista that leaves her giggling, cheeks flushed enough to be visible from here.
Good. Hopefully his flirting will keep him occupied for a few moments longer.
Annabelle is on the verge of a breakthrough, and I can’t risk him undoing it.
“It can be really hard when family is so far away and you can’t be there for them.
” Time is running out when I see the barista snapping the lids onto the cups, peeking glances at Theo every chance she can.
Even though the thought of being alone with Theo—of planning this wedding—makes my chest tighten, I know I have less than two minutes left to give Annabelle the encouragement she needs. “My father passed when I was ten.”
Annabelle’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I say. The memory still hurts, but I push through knowing that this will help Annabelle find the freedom she deserves.
“The cancer took him quickly, which was a blessing in disguise given the pain he was in. For a month, I stayed in bed with him, watching cartoons while he slept.” I pause.
“Even now, I don’t take that time for granted.
I’m grateful I didn’t hesitate when it mattered. ”
Theo grabs the drink carrier from the counter and storms towards us. My pulse thuds heavy in my ears as I say, “Sometimes a little distance and time with family can bring you the clarity you need.”
Before Annabelle can respond, I glance at Theo and interrupt with a grin, “Oh… wow. I can smell those coffee beans from here. Thank you, Theo.”
His gaze flicks between us, sharp and assessing. He clocks the way Annabelle’s shoulders are drawn in, the tension she hasn’t quite masked.
“What did I miss?” Theo asks pleasantly—too pleasantly.
“Just boring girl talk,” Annabelle says quickly, forcing a smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Theo hums, low in his throat. “Ah. The most dangerous kind.” His eyes settle on me, deliberate. “I should’ve known.”
“Relax,” I say lightly, despite the growing unease settling in my stomach. “We were talking about family.”
“Thank God I arrived in time, then,” he jokes. His tone is easy, but his body tells me that he doesn’t find the humor in this conversation.
We make small talk while we finish off our drinks and then Theo gets up to toss our empty cups into the trash, gesturing towards the exit. “Shall we?”
As we rise to follow, Annabelle lingers just long enough to catch my hand. Her fingers squeeze tight. “You have no idea how much our chat means to me,” she whispers.
Theo turns back at that—just slightly. Not enough for Annabelle to notice. His smile never falters.
But his eyes do.
And that’s when the panic hits.