I had never seen Aiden so angry before.

He was almost blowing smoke out of his nose as he stared me down, like I had done him a great injustice. I tried to squeeze his arm and calm him down, but what I said had only seemed to make him angrier than he already was.

"You've seen the way we are with each other," he practically spat in my face, towering over me because he was so tall and broad, "Is that what you would call love, Rosalie? When have you looked at us and thought that we embody all that is loving in a relationship? You're smart, you can't be so blind. Don't you warn your clients when you think they aren't compatible? You've seen so many weddings happen, you must be an expert by now. Don't you even mention that they might be marching right into the eye of the hurricane?"

I stared at him, trying to calm my breathing, trying to figure out what I could tell him so that he didn't take his anger out on me in front of everyone in the shop. I gulped.

"It's not my place to interfere in a relationship, despite what I think about the match. Some people aren't how they seem to the world. I cannot judge a couple based on a few moments I spend with them," I said, feeling my voice shake slightly.

He scoffed at me and looked away. I brushed myself off, telling myself that I didn't need to be scared of him.

"And," I said, raising my eyebrows, making Aiden turn to face me again, "My business is the business of weddings." I shrugged, with a small smile, "Why would I want to steer people away from having a wedding?"

Aiden's expression changed as he stared at me. His frown dissipated and his expression turned thoughtful. And then, in the most spectacular turn of events, he laughed. The sight made my heart twinge. "You're a true businesswoman," he told me, "I respect that. It's a bit twisted, but I respect it."

I shrugged, trying not to take what he said as too much of a compliment. I had learned from my years in the trade that meddling into relationships, especially rocky ones, don't always end well. "Everything is a bit twisted," I told him.

He gave a chuckle. "Shall I try on the next one?" he asked and I nodded.

Aiden went back into the fitting room and I waited, writing down my remarks about it to make sure I narrow down the best options to show Caroline.

The next time Aiden walked out, he wore a white suit with a black tie. His face had an absolutely dejected expression on it, as he looked down and kept adjusting his lapel. I got up to help him fix his tie and pocket square.

I had absolutely no idea why Caroline would even think to put her husband in a white suit at a red wedding. He would stick out like a sore thumb and the suit itself didn't do Aiden any favours. He was one of the most handsome men I had ever met, but he didn't carry himself with his usual confidence and charm when he wore this.

"Is something wrong with the lapel?" he asked me, as he constantly smoothed it.

I shook my head. "It's perfectly fine," I said, trying to stifle a grin at how ridiculous he looked.

I turned him by the shoulders to look at himself in the full-length mirror behind him. Standing next to him, I trailed my eyes down the reflection of his that I saw in the mirror.

I brought my eyes up again and he and I looked at each other in the mirror. For a moment, we just stared and the next, we both burst into laughter.

Aiden doubled over, in laughter and I tried not to laugh too loud so that we didn't attract any attention from the other customers.

"Something's seriously wrong with this suit," he said, when he had finally managed to stand up straight again.

"Don't blame the suit. It could be your fault," I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He feigned an expression of shock and laughed again. "Well, I'm sorry. I can generally pull of a white suit," he told me, "This one just seems a bit off."

I shook my head. "A poor workman blames his tools," I told Aiden.

He bumped his shoulder against me, giving me a look. "You watch your tongue," he cautioned me, sarcastically.

I laughed, walking back to my seat. "Oh, I'm going to be scared of threats made by a man who looks like he got rejected from the wait-staff at a hotel," I mocked.

Aiden dropped his jaw, smiling. "You're terrible," he told me, unbuttoning his jacket and walking towards the fitting room, "So, maybe not a white suit."

"Definitely not."

A few hours later, I tried to focus on my work, but I kept getting distracted by the happenings of that morning. I kept going back to the moments where Aiden and I had behaved like friends who had known each other for years.

Jenna walked in, interrupting my thoughts.

"You're smiling," she said, looking at me suspiciously, "Met someone so soon?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I told her, shaking my head quickly, "I'm just in a good mood."

"So, did you pick a suit for the wedding?" Jenna asked, perching herself at the edge of my glass-top desk.

"We narrowed it down to three and Caroline gets the final say," I told her, leaning back in my chair.

"What do you think about those two?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, "They seem a bit of an odd couple."

"Jenna, we really don't know what they're like in private," I told her, trying to throw her off.

The things that Aiden had told me that morning bothered me. He had been completely convinced that he and Caroline were totally incompatible, but he still continued to plan his wedding to her. I wondered what I was missing.

"Did you see the Louis Vuitton outfit Caroline wore the last time she came here?" Jenna asked, "It was like she was a mannequin in the store. How much does she get paid for her work?"

I giggled. "I don't know, Jenna, but my mom always told me that it's not always rich people who wear branded clothing. She worked in a jewelry store and she used to always say that the people who wore branded items weren't always the richest people, or the ones who spent the most. They usually just did it for the show. The richest people were more understated regarding their clothing. Their clothes would always be tailored to perfection, with a few elegant and classy accessories. That's how you could pick the rich people."

Jenna pumped her eyebrows. "Aiden's definitely very rich then, she said."

She and I shared a smirk.

There was a knock at the door to my office. We both looked up.

Standing there, was the last person that I would have ever thought to have come to my office.

Ian.

"Ian?" I heard myself saying.

"Hey," he said, slowly, "Can we talk?"

Jenna and I shared a look. I nodded to her, letting her know that it was alright to leave. After she left, Ian slowly walked towards me.

"Hey," he said, again.

"Hey," I said back, unsure of what to do.

"I haven't been here in so long," Ian smiled, nervously, gesturing to the office.

I nodded. "You said I worked enough and you didn't want to be around all this wedding stuff."

He chuckled, nervously. "Yeah." He scratched the back of his head.

"You're working late," he told me.

"It's five forty-five, Ian," I said.

He nodded to me.

I waited for a few silent moments for him to say something, but he didn't. I was getting impatient. Ian had never annoyed me so much than in that very moment.

"What do you want, Ian?" I asked, walking around my desk.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine."

He was silent, again. I just watched him, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you think we made a mistake? Let's try this again, Rosalie," he told me, earnestly.

"What?"

"Let's get back together, Ro. We had two good years. Let's live like that again," he told me, coming closer to me.

I stepped back so that I was leaning against my desk.

"Ian, we broke up for some very good reasons," I told him, shaking my head, "We weren't good for each other. We grew apart and what we did was for good measure. It's not a good idea that we go back down that path."

"Didn't we have some good times, Ro?" he asked.

"We did, Ian, but we weren't being honest. We had good times because we were good friends and we managed to have fun together, but there isn't much that's holding us together. You don't even like the things I talk about and I don't want to spend more nights being the third-wheel to your phone or your TV," I said. He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand and stopped him. "Yes, I had my faults, too. I know I didn't always give you the time you needed, but maybe that's a sign. We didn't miss each other – Ian, I can't have this conversation with you every time you think we should get back together. Take some time and really think about the logic without thinking about the fact that you may be lonely."

He regarded me and then frowned.

"You don't care about me," he said, "You stopped caring about me months ago."

"Ian, that's not –"

"No," he held up his hand, "I don't need this."

And as suddenly as he came, Ian was gone.

*

What is even happening?

Guys, I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you supporting me in this book. I appreciate it so much and I hope I give you something you like to read.

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