Page 53

Just Five More Minutes…

CALLAN

“Mr. Burkhardt,” Ms. Windsor approached, clipboard in hand and frown lines permanently carved into her face. “While everything looks absolutely exquisite, there is the small matter of... well...” She cleared her throat. “The bride? Or rather, the lack thereof?”

“Ms. Marcel will be here,” I said, adjusting my cufflinks for the fourteenth time. “Or she won’t. Either way, the wedding proceeds as planned.”

Ms. Windsor blinked, as if trying to process this information through her proper British sensibilities. “I... see. It’s just that in my many, many years managing this venue, we’ve never had a... solo wedding before. It’s not like you can marry no one.”

“If she doesn’t show, then obviously I won’t be married by the end of the day,” I replied, spotting another imperfection, a chair with a slightly looser bow than its neighbors. I strode over to fix it, ignoring the whispers from the catering staff.

“But sir, the?—”

“Everything has been handled. Besides, this estate has been paid in more than full already. I don’t know why you’re complaining considering the other sizable donation I made.”

Ms. Windsor looked like she wanted to say more but thought better of it, retreating with her clipboard and wrinkles.

I couldn’t blame her. This whole situation was certifiably insane.

All because I tripped and tumbled straight into that stupid L-word.

Love. The word I’d spent my entire adult life avoiding, dismissing, and thoroughly denying.

I pulled out the folded paper from my pocket. My vows, rewritten seventeen times since last night. The current version still felt inadequate.

“Those better not be stock market predictions,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

I turned to find Chance, adjusting his bowtie.

“Vows,” I corrected, tucking the paper back into my pocket. “For when she shows up.”

“When,” Chance repeated with a small smile. “ When she shows up. Not if . That’s progress.”

“Where are the other two assholes?” I asked, glancing around for Kris and Morgan.

“Checking on the bar situation. And by ‘checking on’ I mean ‘depleting.’ Kris said something about needing liquid courage to stand next to you while you potentially humiliate yourself in front of New York’s elite.”

“Good to know my groomsmen have such faith in me.”

“Actually,” Chance said, his expression growing serious, “we do. Have faith in you, I mean. This is... it’s brave, Cal. Possibly insane, definitely dramatic, but brave.”

“Or desperate,” I muttered, spotting another imperfection in the floral arrangements and resisting the urge to fix it. “I’m not convinced there’s much difference.”

“How are you feeling? After everything?”

I stared out at the assembled chairs, the flower-draped archway, the string quartet warming up in the corner. Everything perfect, everything planned down to the last detail by the woman who might or might not walk down that aisle minus a few adjustments from me.

“I don’t know. Terrified may be the best way to explain it.”

“Are you excited?”

“Of course,” I said simply. “I want, no, I need to see her again. And shit, if it’s in that dress, I may need you to find the nearest AED to bring me back when I inevitably keel over.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Gram.

“How’s my boy doing?” she asked without preamble when I answered.

“Depends on your definition of ‘doing,’” I replied. “If you mean ‘micromanaging floral arrangements while sweating through an extremely expensive suit,’ then I’m doing spectacularly.”

“Nerves are good,” Gram said. “Shows you care. How’s the venue? I’ll be there soon enough if Norbert would step on the gas instead of the brakes every five seconds.” In the background, Norbert muttered an apology.

“Don’t worry. It’s not four yet. And the venue is perfect. Exactly as we planned. Everything’s ready except?—”

“The bride,” she finished for me. “I spoke to her yesterday.”

My heart stuttered. “And?”

“And I did my part. The rest is up to her... and you.”

“What does that mean? Did she seem receptive? Angry? Did she mention me? The dress?”

“Patience, Cal. Some things can’t be rushed, controlled, or bought. This is one of them.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to be true.” A pause, then: “Are you ready to tell her you love her.”

“Yes, because I do.”

“Good boy.”

“I just hope I get the chance to tell her if she shows up.”

“ When she shows up,” Gram corrected, echoing Chance beside me. “See you at the altar, darling.”

She hung up before I could respond.

“Everything okay?” Chance asked, watching me carefully.

“Gram talked to Anica yesterday. But she won’t tell me what was said.”

“Probably for the best. You’re already one floral adjustment away from a complete nervous breakdown.”

“I am perfectly calm,” I insisted, while simultaneously straightening my already straight tie.

“Sure you are. How about we get you a drink?”

Before I could respond, Kris and Morgan appeared, both looking suspiciously more relaxed than when they’d arrived.

“That’s an awesome idea! The bar is excellent,” Kris announced, clapping me on the shoulder. “And fully stocked for either celebration or consolation, depending on how this circus plays out.”

“Have a little faith,” Morgan chided, though he too seemed to have fortified himself with liquid courage. “Our boy’s about to make romantic history.”

“Or tragic history,” Kris countered. “Either way, I’m just glad I’m here to witness it. This story’s going to be legendary regardless of the outcome.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said as I ran a hand down the side of my face.

“Anytime,” Kris grinned. “Now, is there a protocol for this? Do we still stand up there with you if it’s just you? Is this more of a performance art piece or an actual wedding at this point?”

“We stand with him,” Chance said.

“Of course we do,” Morgan agreed, suddenly serious. “We’re just giving him shit because that’s how we show love.”

“Don’t use the L-word around Cal,” Kris stage-whispered. “He’s still building up immunity to it.”

Despite everything, I laughed. “You three are the worst groomsmen in history.”

“But we’re yours,” Morgan said, straightening his boutonniere. “So what’s the plan, boss? How long do we wait if...” He trailed off, but the unspoken question hung in the air between us. How long would I stand there, alone at the altar, before admitting defeat?

“As long as it takes. Five minutes. Then five more after that. And then another five.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between us, broken only when Ms. Windsor reappeared, looking even more pinched than before.

“Mr. Burkhardt, the guests are arriving. We really should?—”

“Everything proceeds as planned. Start seating them.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but nodded stiffly before walking away, murmuring into her headset.

“I should go check on... something,” I said vaguely, needing a moment alone. “Make sure the guys don’t drink all the champagne before the ceremony,” I added to Chance, who nodded.

I went to a small antechamber off the main pavilion, a room traditionally used by grooms for last-minute preparations.

The mirror on the wall reflected a man I barely recognized—still me, but somehow different.

Less certain. More vulnerable. Terrified, yes, but somehow more alive than I’d felt in years.

In fact, he sort of reminded me of the kid in the bathtub wearing a DIY merman tail.

There was hope there standing alongside fear. I hadn’t seen that kid in a long time.

Shaking my head, I pulled out the vows again, scanning the words I’d written.

They felt simultaneously too much and not enough.

How did you compress a complete worldview shift into a few sentences?

How did you explain to someone that they’d fundamentally changed the way you wanted to live your life?

“If love exists anywhere in this world,” I whispered to my reflection, folding the paper carefully, “what I feel for Anica is it. And if I’m wrong about everything else, I’m right about her.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

“It’s time,” Chance called. “Everyone’s seated.”

God, how long had I been in that room? It felt like seconds.

Had it really been twenty minutes? The nerves I’d felt before tripled in a heartbeat, and I struggled to swallow.

What if she didn’t show? What if I really had lost her for good?

I didn’t even care that I was going to look like an idiot. I just…

I just wanted her.

The woman I loved.

I took a deep breath, straightened my jacket one last time, and stepped out.

The Rhodes Estate garden pavilion had been transformed into something from a dream.

White chairs lined either side of a center aisle, adorned with small bouquets of blue and white flowers.

An archway of twisted branches and more flowers stood at the far end, overlooking the lake that shimmered in the late afternoon sun.

The string quartet played softly in the background, and two hundred of New York’s elite sat in expectant silence, their curious glances following me as I took my place at the altar.

Standing there, I nodded to Gram, who sat in the front row.

Beside her sat Norbert. What the hell? Why was my grandmother’s butler holding her hand?

I raised an eyebrow and she winked at me.

On Gram’s other side, Erika sat with her husband and their two kids.

She gave me a thumbs up, leaning in to whisper something to her husband.