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“Knot Your Average Wedding, this is Devonna speaking. How may I assist you today?” The crisp, professional voice of Anica’s assistant filled the line.

“Devonna, it’s Callan. I need to speak with Anica.”

There was a brief pause. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burkhardt, but Ms. Marcel isn’t in the office and is unavailable at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Cut the crap, Devonna. I know she’s avoiding my calls. Is she there? Put her on the phone.”

“She’s not. Would you like to leave a message?” Devonna replied, her tone cooling several degrees.

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden steel in her voice. “When will she be available?”

“Her schedule is fully booked for the rest of today,” Devonna informed me, and I could hear her typing on her computer. “And tomorrow. And, in fact, for the foreseeable future. If you’d like to discuss your wedding plans, I’d be happy to assist you, or I can connect you with Ms. Landry.”

“I don’t want to talk to Mari, I want to talk to Anica.”

“I understand, Mr. Burkhardt, but that won’t be possible right now. Ms. Marcel has instructed me to handle all communications regarding your wedding. If you have questions or concerns about the arrangements, I’m fully briefed on your file.”

“This isn’t about the wedding,” I said, running a hand through my hair as I tried to keep my growing temper at bay. “This is personal.”

“I’m aware and up to date on the situation. I’ll relay the message that you called. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

I was being managed, and I knew it.

“No,” I said finally. “Just... tell her I called. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, Mr. Burkhardt. Have a pleasant day.”

The line went dead, and I stared at the wall for far too long after she’d hung up.

“Well? Did you just get shut down by an assistant?” Kris asked, sounding impressed.

“She’s a good gatekeeper,” I muttered. “I’m starting to see why Anica hired her.”

“So what now?” Morgan asked.

“Now...” I sighed, pocketing my phone. “Now I need to talk to my grandmother.”

“Bringing out the big guns,” Chance nodded approvingly. “Smart move.”

“She’s the only person I know who’s more stubborn than Anica,” I explained. “And she seemed to like her. Maybe she can... I don’t know, help me figure out how to fix this.”

“Or at least tell you what an idiot you’re being,” Kris suggested helpfully.

“She’ll definitely do that. It’s her favorite hobby.”

“Do you want us to clear out?” Morgan asked, gesturing to the mess we’d made of my living room in the short time they’d been there.

I considered it, then shook my head. “No. Stay. Finish the waffles. I need to do this alone.”

“Good luck,” Chance called as I headed for the door. “And Cal? For what it’s worth, I think she’s worth fighting for.”

I paused. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “I think so too.”

When I got to my grandmother’s house, I used my key, letting myself in without knocking.

“Gram?” I called, setting down the bag of pastries I’d picked up on the way. Peace offerings never hurt with her, especially when she was about to tell me exactly how badly I’d screwed up.

“In the sunroom,” her voice called back. “With my feet up and a gin and tonic in hand.”

I followed the sound of her voice, finding her exactly as described, reclining on her favorite chaise lounge, a drink in one hand and a romance book in the other. She didn’t look up when I entered, turning a page.

“Sit,” she commanded, still not looking at me. “And explain to me why you’re here instead of with that lovely young woman who actually had the patience to tolerate your nonsense.”

I sank into the armchair across from her. “You heard.”

“Of course I heard,” she sniffed, finally setting down her book to fix me with a piercing stare. “The catering service for my charity lunch is run by Ms. Landry’s cousin, who heard from Ms. Landry that you—and I quote—‘fucked up royally with Anica and are now on her eternal shit list.’”

I winced. “That was fast.”

“Gossip travels at the speed of light, darling. Especially when it involves billionaires making spectacular fools of themselves over intelligent women.” She took a sip of her drink. “Now, tell me what happened. Every sordid detail.”

“I’m not sure you want the sordid details, Gram,” I said, remembering exactly how my morning with Anica had begun.

She waved a dismissive hand. “Skip the bedroom gymnastics. I’m old, not dead. I can fill in those blanks myself. Tell me how you managed to chase away the one woman who’s looked at you like you might actually be worth the trouble.”

I sighed, then gave her the abbreviated version; Anica staying over, my friends arriving, the overheard conversation, and the devastating aftermath. By the time I finished, Gram was shaking her head slowly, looking equal parts disappointed and exasperated.

“Oh, Cal,” she said, and somehow those two words carried the weight of decades of accumulated wisdom and frustration. “You are your father’s son in all the worst ways.”

The comparison stung. “I’m nothing like him.”

“No? The emotional unavailability? The absolute terror of admitting vulnerability? The way you push away anyone who gets too close? That’s absolutely my son.”

“I’m not scared,” I insisted, though we both knew it was a lie.

“Bullshit,” Gram snapped. “You’re terrified. You have been since you were seven years old and watched your parents tear each other apart while pretending everything was fine.”

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Their marriage was a sham.”

“Their marriage was a disaster,” she corrected. “But that doesn’t mean all marriages are. That doesn’t mean love isn’t real.”

“How can you, of all people, still believe in love?” I demanded. “After what Grandpa did to you? After how he hurt you?”

A shadow crossed her face, old pain briefly visible before she masked it with her usual steel.

“Your grandfather was a bastard who didn’t deserve me,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But that doesn’t mean what I felt for him wasn’t real.

It doesn’t erase the good years before he showed his true colors. ”

“He cheated on you,” I reminded her, anger on her behalf still hot after all these years. “He humiliated you. He nearly bankrupted you.”

“Yes,” she agreed calmly. “And after I divorced him and took him for everything he was worth, I picked myself up and moved on. Because one failed marriage doesn’t invalidate the entire concept of love.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. “It’s not just one marriage, Gram. It’s everywhere. People cheat, they lie, they fall out of what they call love as easily as they fall into it.”

“Some do, but some don’t. Some people build lives together based on mutual respect, shared values, and genuine affection. Some people choose each other, every day, not because of some hormonal impulse but because they’ve found someone who makes life better just by being in it.”

Her words hit uncomfortably close to how I felt about Anica.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I admitted.

“Yes, you do,” she said, setting down her drink and leaning forward. “You’re just too stubborn and scared to do it.”

“What, tell her I believe in love when I don’t? Lie to her?”

“Is it a lie, Cal?” she asked. “Think about how you feel when she walks into a room. Think about how empty your penthouse felt this morning after she left. Think about why you’re sitting here in my sunroom instead of at the office making another million dollars.

Is that really just ‘chemistry’ or ‘compatibility’ or whatever other clinical term you want to use to avoid saying the L-word? ”

I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. The truth was too terrifying to contemplate.

“You’re going to lose her,” Gram continued, her voice gentler now. “Because you’re too afraid to admit what you feel.”

“And what if I do admit it? What if I tell her I... care about her, deeply, and then it falls apart anyway? What if I end up just like them? What if I hurt her?”

“What if you don’t? What if it works? What if you build something beautiful together? Are you willing to lose her for certain just to avoid the possibility of future pain?”

Put like that, it seemed ridiculous. And yet, the fear remained, a cold knot in my chest.

“I don’t know how to do this, Gram,” I confessed, my voice barely audible.

“No one does, darling,” she said, reaching out to pat my hand.

“That’s the terrifying, wonderful truth of it.

Love isn’t something you can control or predict or manage like one of your tech projects.

It’s messy and inconvenient and often arrives at the worst possible time, wrapped in the last package you expected. ”

“Like a judgy wedding planner with plans for every occasion?” I asked, a small smile finally breaking through.

“Exactly like that. And if you let her go without a fight because you’re too scared to admit she matters, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“I need to see her,” I said, standing. “I need to talk to her.”

“Yes, you do, but not like this, not half-cocked and desperate. She deserves better than that.”

“Then what do I do?”

“First, you figure out what you actually want. Not what you think you should want, or what’s safe to want, but what you truly, deeply want.

” She fixed me with a steady gaze. “And then you find a way to show her that you’re serious.

Words are easy, Callan, but that woman needs to see you grovel. Preferably on your knees.”

I nodded, my mind already racing. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned. “You’ve still got a mountain to climb, and that girl has every reason to leave you stranded at base camp.”

“I’m good at mountains,” I assured her. “And I’m very, very motivated.”

“Good,” she said, picking up her book again. “Now go away. You’ve interrupted my reading, and just at the part where he’s ripping her bodice.”

“TMI, Gram.”

“Tit for tat.”

I chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Love you, Gram.”

“See?” she said, patting my cheek. “You can say it when it matters.”