"You are a difficult woman to get to."

I looked up from my coffee, wishing the billowing steam would've thickened as Josie plopped in the seat across from me, Mathilde on her tail.

"Even my sister couldn't get you to stay put," Mathilde continued. What did she want me to say? It's so great to see you after all these years. I've done well for myself, after you assured your son I wouldn't amount to anything.

"I'm sorry," Josie mouthed. I smiled, knowing none of this was her fault. Mathilde waved to someone who entered the coffee shop, the gold bracelets dangling from her thin wrists clinking with her movement.

"I want you to meet someone," she informed. "Hopefully, Roxy can persuade you."

Pressing out the wrinkles in my skirt as I stood, I tried again to explain how, per my email, I had told Mathilde we were declining her business. It was a professionally written document, but she brought the personal right back into it.

"When Roxy gave me a list of wedding planners," Mathilde told me, pausing to kiss the cheeks of a young woman who joined her, "your name popped right to the top. Who better to help plan the wedding of the century?"

The nerve. I felt blood drain from my face, staring at the enormous rock weighing down the woman's hand.

"You must be Roxy?" I clarified, asking the petite brunette dressed almost exactly like Mathilde. Fur coat, designer heels, pristinely curled hair. "Congratulations on your engagement. I'm sorry, but," I motioned to Josie, "we can't take on a wedding of this size right now." By size, I meant the depth of how it would've broken me.

"My fiancé left it up to me," Roxy explained. "He's always doing that." Blush painted her cheeks, while color drained from mine. "See," she elaborated, despite every non-verbal cue I could think of to suggest we were not planning her wedding, "he's abroad, then back for our wedding, and then we are off together. That's why it has to be fast, but I'm not settling on quality."

"Nor should you," Mathilde huffed in agreement. "Everyone will be there. When I say that, Violet," she turned to me, "I mean everyone. The mayor, the governor; you name them and they will be sitting in an aisle watching my darling boy wed this wonderful woman."

"Don't we have to meet a client in," Josie swiped her phone screen, "fifteen minutes?"

I loved her attempt to lie, but Mathilde wasn't having it.

"Miss Daly," Roxy pleaded. "I'm willing to pay a million dollars for just your services."

Josie's eyes were like saucers.

Trying not to break a tooth as I clenched my jaw to stifle my raw nerves from creating a catastrophic implosion, I packed up my bag and nodded to Josie before clearing my throat and addressing Mathilde and Roxy.

"That's very generous of you, but we still aren't able to accept. Good luck." And my dignity is priceless. I couldn't believe they thought I could be paid off, that they could put a monetary amount on history, or that I would even fall for that. I sure as heck didn't need to, because I'd made more than that in a year, and I was fine. Everything was and would be, because there was no chance in hell I would plan a wedding for Roxy-would-be-Bennett.

When Josie and I were a block away, the weird tinge in my chest dissipated. The further we got from the café, the more clear my thoughts were.

"Thank you for your help back there," I told Josie. "I keep personal out of professional, but—"

"She called you by name." Josie peered at me from the side of her eyes when we approached a stoplight. "You know her, don't you?"

A sprinkle of snow danced in the air, and we crossed the street once the light changed.

"It's better to keep the past in the past," I directed, letting the real story play out in my mind. It's better not to tell anyone that Roxy was marrying my ex-fiancé, that I couldn't have imagined he would see anything interesting in a woman who was so clearly the mirror of his mother, and that my heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

I never told clients why I chose my job. Wouldn't that put a cloud over their day to hear? I couldn't imagine hearing about someone's failed romance while planning my own wedding but, then again, it not happening is the entire point. I started my company to make memorable weddings for people because I remember thinking that would be the most beautiful day of my life.

And now, Mathilde Bennett was practically harassing me to plan what should've been my wedding. Albeit, ten years ago. A lifetime occurred since—school, jobs, mortgages... And the first word I get from the past is his mother's request I plan his wedding.

Josie and I finished our work for the day, and determined our schedule for the next week. There was still so much to do for the New Year's Eve weddings, but it was just a matter of time. She would consult with the florists, I would handle the contract negotiations for services so the bride and groom wouldn't have to.

Crashing onto my bed a few nights after Mathilde interrupted my coffee, I stared at the ceiling fan for far too long. The spinning lulled me somewhat, and made me a little dizzy, and I hated how much had been churned up. Surely, fifteen years was water under the bridge. Maybe for him. I couldn't pretend every moment of our past flooded my thoughts, like a cruel prank. The one got away. No. The one was pulled away.

My buzzing phone distracted me, the blue glow illuminating my bedroom. My sister had sent several messages.

Lily: Whatever you do, don't look at poshnews.com.

Lily: I looked FOR you. But now, you probably want to look? I'm the worst.

Lily: OMG. Is this serious?

The headline she sent with her last message popped up as an image of the entire Bennett family. It was an old image, probably the last time they were all together. I could tell because Logan was standing next to their father, his smile wide and proud.

Me: I miss Logan.

Seeing his grin made my first tear fall. Losing him in the war made the world stop. Losing his brother to time made my world shatter.

Lily: Um... What about...

Yeah. I know. What about him? What about Aidan Bennett? She called me when I hadn't responded for ten more minutes.

"I'm sorry," she told me when I answered. "I thought you were okay with it all."

"How are you?" I ignored her bait.

"Vi," my sister chuckled, "you can't fool me. That picture might be a decade old, but look at him. Chiseled from marble, for God's sake."

"I hadn't noticed." It was almost the truth. I looked at him once, but erased the message so it wasn't staring at me. I knew myself, and I would've gone back to that picture too often. I had purposely avoided any chance to see Aidan, at least in photograph form because, last I heard, he hadn't been in the country in years. How did I know that? My naïve little sister.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let it out. "I have two weddings on the same night. New Year's Eve. They're on the same side of town, thankfully. Can you help?"

"That's what you want to talk about?" Lily laughed, and I could hear her eyes roll through the phone. "I'm talking about the headline. Wow! I can see how often it's being shared or commented on. Damn, Vi. We've been talking for ten minutes, and this thing already has like three thousand shares. But tell me about work."

"You're such a brat."

"I know. I always did have eyes for him, you know, but I would've let you have him first."

"Thanks." She couldn't see me sneer, and it was probably for the better. "Water under the bridge. A very long, distant—"

"Beautiful."

"Bridge."

Lily snickered. "Long, huh?"

"I'm hanging up," I warned, tempted to do so, and equally grateful my sister brought me back down to earth. "Would you believe it if I told you that Mathilde Bennett has been harassing me about planning their wedding?"

"So you have seen the headline, or your own version of it. She has some nerve," Lily remarked. "She doesn't let her son marry you, then she wants you to plan his wedding?"

"I met her." I grimaced, trying to steady my breath. "She's next generation Mathilde Bennett."

"That doesn't sound like Aidan."

How would I know what Aidan sounded like anymore? "I guess people change."

"Well, yeah, but not their entire set of morals, Violet. You're nothing like Mathilde, and Aidan was hopelessly in lo—"

"I have to go. There's a mouse in the kitchen." I hung up and tossed the phone on my bed, like it was the actual fictitious rodent I made up to end the call. Falling back on my pillow once more, I stared at the ceiling fan again, finishing in my thoughts what I assumed Violet was going to say. Aiden was hopelessly in love with me.

And, thus, I answer my own question and understand knowing I thought love could only be a fantasy would make couples definitely not hire me to plan their dream weddings.

We were going to elope, but I stopped wondering what that would've been like about five years ago. As if a decade hadn't been enough, I lost myself in the slowly chipping away fantasy for the last five years. Well, I wasn't that hopeless. It's just that what we had wasn't something I could easily grieve. But now, the flashbacks were showing up at my door and finding me in coffee shops... And none of those were actually him.