Page 121

TWO

LENNOX

Aiden Langfield is getting married. Aiden Langfield, who I haven’t spoken to in over ten years, is getting married. And I’m planning his wedding. Tell me the universe doesn’t have a wicked sense of humor.

Kind of like mine. Sarcastic and loud.

“Jillian Murgo,” the woman sitting primly beside my Aiden says.

Not your Aiden, Lennox. You can’t be territorial over a man you haven’t even spoken to in a decade.

“Of course.” I paint on the perfect smile. The one I’ve perfected over the last twenty-nine years. The one my family expects me to wear to uphold our reputation. “What an exciting time. Tell me about yourselves. How’d you meet? What’s the proposal story?”

Did he tell you that I was his first kiss? That he promised I’d be his only kiss? That we once meant everything to one another?

Aiden’s lip quirks into what I know is his true smile, as if he can read my internal ramblings, but he tamps it down quick.

“Oh, where to even begin?” the woman next to him says. Her voice is slightly nasal, just like her face. Seriously, her schnoz could give Pinocchio a run for his money.

“Yes, where?” I place my hands on the desk in front of me, keeping my eyes on her. If I look at Aiden, I’m liable to have a heart attack.

Aiden Langfield is getting married. The only man who ever held even a tiny piece of me—the jokester, the romantic, the man I truly believed at one point would be my endgame— married.

How did we get here? My internal voice suddenly sounds like thirteen-year-old me, and judging by the venom in her whispered words, she isn’t happy with what I’ve done with our life.

“We’ve been together for almost three years,” she explains, nudging the man next to her.

In response, he gives her a wide-eyed look that I interpret as what do you want me to add?

Hmm. Interesting.

Though I’d find it more interesting if she wasn’t wearing a goddamn emerald on her finger the size of her nose. Damn. How much money do hockey players make these days?

Yeah, Aiden Langfield comes from money. So do I. Our families’ ridiculous wealth was a topic we bonded over early on. It may seem annoyingly cliché to be upset that our families each have more money than a small country, but with money comes strings. Not like Pinocchio strings either. These pull so taut they make it impossible for a person to even control their own actions. They’re the kind of strings that will twist you in so many ways you won’t recognize the person you’ve become when they’re finished with you.

And they do eventually finish with you. Once you say no. Once you decide to live for yourself. Once you’ve— Okay, I’ve obviously gotten sidetracked . Jill is still talking—mostly about herself and what she envisions for her wedding.

Hers. Not theirs . It’s obvious this is her show.

“And it has to happen next month.”

“Excuse me?” I say, forcing my attention from her to Aiden.

A warm smile spreads across his face. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He keeps giving me these dopey smiles. Did Jill drug him? Maybe that’s how she got him to propose.

Oh, Lennox, stop being a conspiracy theorist. I can practically hear my mother’s groan.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but my fiancé is the Boston Bolts’ star center.” For the first time today, she actually looks at Aiden, acknowledging his existence, like he’s worth something. It’s in this moment that I hate her. Aiden Langfield is many things, and yes, he is one of the best players to ever play in the NHL, but his worth—his value—has absolutely nothing to do with what he can do with a hockey stick and a pair of skates.

As if he can sense the tension mounting in my every cell, Aiden clears his throat and sits straighter. Then he speaks to me for the first time in over a decade. “I start training full time in August.”

The gravel in his voice causes a full-body shiver.

“We need to be married by the end of July at the latest,” Nasal Nancy says.

So what if I don’t ever intend to call her by her given name? Let me live.

Holding back a sigh, I pull up the calendar on the computer in front of me. Finding a venue, a caterer, a photographer, a band, and a DJ on such short notice will be nearly impossible. Never mind that it’s all for my ex-boyfriend. Freaking fantastic.

“Will that leave you enough time for a honeymoon?”

Jill shifts in her seat, putting space between herself and Aiden. “Not much. But I’m a dedicated hockey wife—or soon to be.” Her smile is saccharine. “Hockey makes Aiden happy, so watching him play is honeymoon enough for me.”

I snort. “Better you than me. The last thing I’d be doing on my honeymoon is watching.”

Jill sucks in a harsh breath, the sound making my stomach plummet. I slap a hand over my mouth. Shit. I really need to work on my brain-to-mouth control. I’ve never been good at keeping my every thought from escaping through my lips.

Aiden chuckles, instantly easing the tension in my shoulders. Damn, I haven’t heard that sound in years. This boy’s laugh is certainly worth my heated cheeks and the thread of embarrassment working its way through me.

“How did you end up working here?” he asks, planting his elbows on the armrests of the chair and lacing his fingers in front of his torso.

Nine Inch Nose forces a smile. “I’m sure she has better things to do than get into her life story with a couple of strangers, Aiden. It is a Sunday. We’re lucky she could squeeze us in at all.”

I shrug. I could talk about myself all day. “I don’t mind.” Tossing my hair over my shoulders, I straighten. “I was born on November sixteenth. Makes me a Scorpio. I’m an only child, so I was eternally lonely growing up, and even as an adult, I get to deal with my parents’ dramatics all by myself. When I was five, I fell off my bike and decided then and there that sports would never be my thing.” Lifting my gaze to the ceiling, I tap my finger against my chin. “Hmm, I obviously like pink.” A laugh bubbles out of me. Of course I do. My hair is bright magenta, as is the stone pendant around my neck. My nails too, and my shoes. “Had my first kiss at fourteen—” I home in on Aiden when I say that last part.

His dark eyes are sparkling, and his lips are quirked up on one side.

Feeling brave, I cover one-half of my mouth and add, “Lost that V-card shortly thereafter.” As my heart rate skyrockets, I drop my hand and rush out the rest. “Went to college, met my bestie—Sara—graduated.” I force an exaggerated pout. “Had to leave my bestie and then went on to try out several jobs before I became your wedding planner.”

Finally, I suck in a breath and relish the way the oxygen floods my system.

Aiden’s full-on grinning.

Not Your Average Nose is staring at me like I have three heads. “That’s…great,” she says, though the way her lip curls on one side makes it clear she really thinks otherwise. “So what do you think for a venue?”

Wishing I had a gallon-sized mimosa right about now, I fill my lungs and force my fake smile to widen. “How about I take the day to scope out a few locations, and we can tour them tomorrow? If this wedding is going to happen next month, then we need to hit the ground running.”

Aiden smirks. “I’ll make myself available.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be busy with hockey stuff,” I suggest. Because really, the last thing I need is to spend more time with my ex-boyfriend, the former love of my life, while planning his fucking wedding.

His eyes don’t leave mine as he replies. “Nothing is more important to me.”