“Well, the only good news about this happening with such a famous client is that they’ll probably have figured it out by the time they all get back to work tomorrow.”

“So they’ll be pissed, but not surprised.”

“Yes, but not pissed at you,” Alexis said.

“I don’t know about that. I just keep thinking that a good wedding planner would have figured this out. That you would have figured this out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody goes into a wedding-­planning endeavor suspecting that it’s all a publicity stunt.”

“You know what pisses me off the most,” Heather said. “That I knew something was up early on, but that I let her play me. I totally bought all that bollocks about her promising her fiancé to be low-key.”

“‘Bollocks’?” Alexis smirked. “Someone’s been spending too much time with Logan.”

Heather spun around in her chair, happy to have a change of topic, however brief. “Speaking of Logan, any idea who the boob-tastic broad all over him last night was?”

Alexis lifted her shoulders. “Nope. And I don’t care. I don’t,” she insisted when Heather gave her a skeptical look. “He’s allowed to date.”

“Sure,” Heather said. “But he came with you.”

“Our cabs arrived at the same time and we walked in together,” Alexis said in amusement. “What is it with you and Brooke trying to turn us into some grand love story?”

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Heather sighed. “I can’t help it. I love love.”

“Speaking of . . .” Alexis sat down opposite Heather’s desk and grinned. “You and Josh seemed mighty cozy at midnight.”

Heather looked down at her mug. “I was having . . . an epiphany.”

“That you love him,” Alexis said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“That obvious?”

“Yes. But it was lovely to see. Did he, ah . . . have a similar epiphany?”

“I thought so? Maybe?” Heather shook her head. “I have no idea. He wanted to say something, and I know that he cares about me. I know it. But he’s still holding back. I thought it was just classic bachelor-itis, but I think it’s more than that.”

“You didn’t talk about it after the fact? Or this morning?”

“Nah, he’s sick with some nasty cold,” Heather said. “I left him in bed with medicine and fluids. One more reason to hate Danica Robinson. It killed me to leave him looking so miserable, which tells you how far gone I am over the guy. I wanted to take care of him and tuck blankets around him and make him homemade soup.”

“Why don’t you let me take care of all of this,” Alexis said, gesturing at Heather’s office.

“No way. She was my client. I’m the one that failed to see the signs. The least I can do is take point on my own cleanup duty.”

“What do you mean the least you can do?”

Heather bit her lip. “This is bad for the Belles, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“We scored the most famous wedding of the year, and then the wedding didn’t happen. That can’t be good for business.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Alexis said slowly, coming into Heather’s office and leaning against her desk, “but it’s possible you’re taking on a bit too much responsibility here. This reflects badly on two people, and two people only: Danica and Troy. And maybe her team of people who knew about the charade. But it doesn’t reflect poorly on you. And certainly not on the company.”

“Thousands of dollars,” Heather said glumly. “Like thousands and thousands, all for nothing.”

“Yes, but we’re not taking the hit. That’s what Danica’s deposit was for, and if the deposit doesn’t cover it, you can rest assured she’ll be getting an invoice for any spillover, especially for your time.”

“It’s not the money.” Heather fiddled with a paper clip. “This was a test. And I failed.”

Alexis frowned. “What do you mean, a test?”

Heather met her boss’s eyes. “This was my chance to show you I could make it as a full-blown wedding planner. And I blew it.”




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