Best Man for the Wedding Planner

“No, please. Don’t start the next sentence with ‘but.’”

She squeezed his hand. “I have to, Dan. These feelings... I need to let them out so I can deal with them. These last few days have been...transformative. Please don’t doubt that I care for you so much.”

“The other night, it was love.”

She swallowed, nodded. “Yes. But what I’m saying is, the logistics of us being in a relationship... I don’t even know how that would work. You live in Toronto. I’m in Banff.”

“So that’s it?” He pulled his hand away. “You’re not even willing to try?”

“I didn’t say that.” Her voice had tensed, and he tried to quell the frustration he was feeling. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to talk this through.

/> “Then how do you see this working?”

“I don’t know. I’ve gone over it a million times in my head. We’ve built lives in different places. I’ve built this business. I have clients that I can’t just abandon, and if I cancel contracts, then I have deposits and fees that have to be repaid. I can’t afford to do that. It’ll bankrupt me.”

He understood that. It wasn’t as easy as handing in a resignation and taking a new job. His father had always owned his own business and it was a very different thing.

“And,” she continued, “it seems...precipitous to pack it all in on a week’s reconnection. It’s...it’s too fast.”

“You’re not sure about us.”

“Are you?”

He paused. Was he? If he were sure, would he have felt the stomach-twisting nerves that had plagued him all morning? Hadn’t he been worried that she’d say no? He certainly hadn’t trusted her to say yes.

Trust. Ah, yes. That sticky, sticky word.

“No,” he whispered. “No, I’m not sure at all.”

The hopeful energy in the room disappeared, replaced by something he could only describe as futility. She looked disappointed in his answer, as though she’d been waiting for him to convince her about them. Her gaze slid away from his and her shoulders rounded, just a little bit.

“It’s more than closure, Delly,” he tried, nudging his knee a little closer to hers. “We both know it. We’re not over each other. God, the way you kissed me by the falls...the things we said...”

“I know,” she replied, her voice rough. “I know. But maybe what we need to do is actually get over each other rather than beat ourselves silly trying to make something work.”

“So you’re not even willing to give this a chance.” He knew the words came out harshly, but he didn’t care. She was the only woman he’d ever truly loved. He wanted to start over. But they both had to want it. They both had to be in the same place, mentally if not geographically. Hope fizzled away, leaving him feeling so empty, it was frightening. Before he’d had his anger to keep him warm. Now he had nothing.

A loud buzz-buzz sounded, and his phone vibrated in his pocket.

“You should check that. It could be important.”

“I don’t need to. I’m not married to my phone.”

Or anything or anyone else either, he thought bitterly.

An awkward silence followed, and then another loud buzz-buzz and a vibration.

With an annoyed sigh, he fished into his pocket for his phone and took it out and hit the button at the bottom to illuminate the screen. He scanned the text message, a smile growing on his face. At least there was some good news in his day.

“What is it?”

“It’s Morgan. Tamara had a baby boy at ten thirty-seven. Three weeks early, at six pounds, three ounces.”

He turned the phone around so she could see the picture of the newborn, swaddled up in flannel and a stretchy hospital cap.

“Congratulations.”

Her voice was cold and anything but congratulatory. And then he knew he’d blown it. What had he been thinking? Here they were, trying to talk about their future, and he was all excited over the one thing she could never have—a baby of her own. How insensitive could he be?