Emma thought she had everything under control, but when her ex—the last-minute savior of her wedding—suddenly disappeared, leaving only a letter behind, the cracks in her carefully planned day started to show.
What could Ryan’s letter reveal, and why was Matt looking at her like he already knew?
Emma paced the living room, her phone clutched tightly to her ear as if the force of her grip could solve all her problems.
Her steps were quick and restless, the kind that left invisible tracks on the carpet.
The tension in the room was palpable, but Matt didn’t seem to notice—or care.
He sat sprawled across the couch, casually scrolling through sports updates on his phone.
“She just quit, Matt! Two weeks before the wedding! Who does that?” Emma exclaimed, the frustration in her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
With a dramatic toss, she flung her phone onto the coffee table, narrowly missing Matt’s coffee mug.
Matt barely glanced up.
“Just find another planner,” he said, as though the solution were that simple.
Emma stopped pacing, staring at him in disbelief. “Oh, genius idea! Why didn’t I think of that?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air.
“Do you even realize how hard it is to book a good wedding planner?
They’re booked out months—years—in advance, Matt!”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “if it’s that impossible, what are you going to do?”
Emma hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.
“I… I might know someone who can help. But you’re not going to like it.”
Matt finally sat up, his interest piqued.
“Who?”
Emma avoided his gaze. “Ryan.”
The air in the room shifted. Matt froze, his jaw tightening.
“Ryan? As in Ryan, your ex?”
Emma sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“Yes. But he’s one of the best wedding planners in the city, Matt.
And he’s the only one who might actually pull this off on such short notice.”
Matt snorted, leaning back. “Oh, great. So your ex gets to plan our wedding.
That’s not awkward at all.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Emma asked, her voice rising with exasperation.
Matt stared at her, his face a mix of annoyance and resignation. Finally, he sighed. “Fine.
Call him. But if he starts reminiscing about your prom night, I’m out.”
Emma pushed open the door to Ryan’s downtown office, her heart pounding like she was back in high school giving a presentation.
The office was just as she imagined it—sleek, modern, and meticulously tidy.
Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in natural light, bouncing off glass surfaces and designer furniture.
Ryan stood by his desk, his back turned, casually flipping through a stack of fabric swatches.
“Ryan?” Emma called out hesitantly, her voice betraying her nerves.
He turned around, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to warm surprise. “Emma, i was shocked you called me and said you want to meet.
It’s been… what, five years?”
“Six,” she corrected, her voice soft but steady. Seeing him after all this time felt surreal. His easy grin, the same one that had once made her heart race, was still intact.
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