- Boston -

"Is it weird if I say that our wedding planner looks smoking hot in that dress?" Alexa notes, catching me off guard. She swishes around the last bit of her tropical green smoothie with her straw before facing my direction.

I did a double take. My head whipped around so fast that I thought I would get whiplash.

"What?" I choked out, my throat suddenly dry as a desert. "You think so?"

The crinkle of an empty styrofoam cup grated through our eardrums and Alexa's face twisted at the detox's gross and sour aftertaste. She mumbles a few unidentifiable words, but my mind drifts elsewhere to Oaklyn.

Oaklyn, a vision in black, was pacing the sidewalk like a caged panther. Her hourglass figure, sculpted to perfection, was accentuated by the sleek lines of her zipped dress. The matching obsidian black pumps, perched on her feet like lethal harpoons, clicked with each stride. She drove with an effortless grace that belied the five-inch heels—an accomplishment that even Alexa, who is no foreigner to heels, struggled to attain without a grimace or two.

"Boston." Alexa's voice cuts through my reverie trance on Oaklyn.

"Yeah?" I murmured, only half-present.

"Did you hear me?"

I hummed and mask my distraction.

Alexa shut off her phone, stashing it away. "So, what do you think?"

"About what?" My eyes never left the silhouette of Oaklyn's body.

Suddenly, Alexa's fingers, cool and firm, found my chin, tilting my head up to meet her eyes. Her sigh was heavy, but then a smile warmed across her lips. Was she annoyed at my distraction, or amused by it? I'm usually laser-focused, but a beautiful woman like Oaklyn blocks the pinpoint of my pupils . . . well, no man could deny that kind of pull.

"Oaklyn," Alexa prods, nodding towards the wedding planner. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

My lips part, but no words escape, just a tight line forming instead.

There's no falling for this one.

One thing I do know, when a man compliments someone other than his current partner, it leads to jealousy or resentment. But Alexa—she is not merely close to the jealous type which is an advantage to her nature. And women compliment each other all the time, so I shouldn't fret too much. Although when it's someone I'm sneakily into, it's a whole new level of awkwardness.

But damn. Alexa really did hit the nail on the head. Oaklyn's beauty is hard to ignore.

The sun beamed down on our car's windshield. It was a sheer sign that we had overstayed our time in the vehicle and it was time we'd meet up with our gorgeous wedding planner. I squinted my eyes and opened the door of the passenger side.

"I'm not even going to respond to that," I say.

Alexa circles the bow of the car and laughs.

"Why? I wouldn't be mad at you."

I'm not answering that.

Reaching for her hand, I evade the question, replying, "No comment." We begin our walk off the grass and onto the sidewalk.

"Take that as a yes, then?" she teases.

Purposely ignoring her, I wave my hand in Oaklyn's direction as she peers closer to us. The music cadence of her stilettos clacks on the cement, which comes across like her own nonobjective sidewalk. One that I hope I could meet her on. Hand in hand, my fiancée and I politely grin meeting Oaklyn for the supposedly second time.

"Good afternoon, Boston and Alexa. It's so nice to see the both of you again," Oaklyn greeted us.

Oaklyn pulls Alexa into a hasty hug and my fiancée steps back to admire Oaklyn further.

"It's great to see you too." Alexa scans her up and down as if she were an angelic figurine descended upon the human land. I watched confusedly. This was uncommonly unlike Alexa. "You look absolutely amazing, must I might say."

Oaklyn blushes and softly shoes her. "Me? Oh,  stop it! Look at you!" she returns.

"And where did you get this beautiful bracelet from?" Alexa's fingers grazed the elegant Sapphire stones encrusted in a silver band. The jewels switch from blue to silver in a checkerboard pattern. I'm not much of an expert when it comes to jewelry, but it must've cost a pretty penny.

"Funny story, actually. This was designed by my grandmother," Oaklyn starts. "She used to design jewelry as a hobby and this was one of her favorite sketches. A few years ago, my parents had it custom-made and gave it to me as a graduation present. Along with the matching earrings."

Alexa cooed, "Matching earrings?"

Oaklyn confirmed, nodding. "Personally, they're much prettier than the bracelet. But I only wear them on special occasions. I'm too afraid I'll lose them."

She smiles shyly.

It's the moment when we lock eyes and everything is still. A dazzling shade of green hazel. Moss-covered stones of the Atlantic coast come to mind. They flecked with gold and I torpidly imagined my weightless frame sinking into their depths. Oh so ever did I badly need to drown.

A hug is too inordinate of a stretch. It will make things obvious. Instead, I substitute with a firm handshake. Our usual method of confrontation, I guess.

"Hello, Boston," Oaklyn interjects with a beam.

Her petite palms grasp my larger ones. "Hi, Oaklyn."

She looked much better than when I had left her.

This view of her being sober and energetic was sizably pleasing. I'd prefer this Oaklyn over the version of her hurling into a trash can.

Oaklyn awkwardly let go. Respectfully, I move a few paces back to Alexa's side. "Should we get this show on the road?" I announce, directing us to the enormous venue hall behind us.

"Absolutely," Oaklyn said and guided us to the entrance. "Follow me."

In plain sight, our eyes were oriented to a stupendous oceanfront view of the first wedding venue. The boating dock served as our vantage point. The open waters sparkled under the warm February sun. Towering palm trees lurched gently in the breeze, adding a touch of tropical charm to the backdrop. Against the environment of clear blue skies, stood the best panorama I've seen all day—our wedding planner.

When she roams ahead of us, I begin to get sidetracked.

"Off in la-la-land?" Alexa clocks me.

I gulped. Was I making it too obvious? "No, just thinking. I realized that we desperately needed a grocery run after this. Suddenly, I've got a major craving for something sweet."

"Let me guess, Joe's cannolis?" she flashed an upward grin.

Alexa's on this strict sugar-free, low-carb diet to maintain her sleek, violin figure. There hasn't been a single baked good in our pantry for almost two weeks now. To be truthful, it's a struggle for both of us. But with Oaklyn's flavors occupying my tastebuds, physically and mentally, I could endure however long this diet change lasted.

Either way, I was being fed.

There's A ribbon of confidence in Oaklyn's stride—like a red carpet strictly for her only. I felt like Alexa and I were part of her stylist team on standby. "No, I was thinking something sweeter," I spiel.

"Strawberries?" Alexa denotes and I erode her reply.

Her answer had launched, but it wasn't quite in orbit.

"More along the line of peaches."

There's confusion in her tone when I mention the sweet and tangy fruit. Always, I have always prided away from exotic fruits out of my safety net. Yet, as the years go by, I wonder if my taste from childhood up to college has changed (both literally and figuratively speaking).

"It's February. Peaches aren't in season."

I am reminded of the seasonal transitions. I'm an educated man in lots of subjects, but with my knowledge of being a loyal fiance, I needed a lot more schooling. But I can't stop looking at Oaklyn's ass. I'd imagine the juiciest, ripest peach in the basket. And she was the sweetest one yet.

We trail slowly. I mentally beg myself to shelf my nefarious male thoughts. "Peaches are always in season. That's if you know where to look," I murmured more to myself than to anyone else.

𓆉 𓆉 𓆉

"This space is suitable for a range anywhere from 50 to 150 guests," Oaklyn explains as we turn into the venue's reception hall. The space was quite intimidating. The indoor setting melange more than modern style with a distant farmhouse influence. The layout, greatly influenced by a rustic element, allowed the floors and lighting to be overtaken by the sky-high ceilings.

Alexa piloted linear to the bar. Her heel clinked on the vinyl floors, stopping in the spot at the blank menu board. She persisted in typing on her phone as Oaklyn and I walked around the floor.

"A bar is a huge money-spinner at wedding venues. It sets the party mood and is a great addition to the cocktail hour before the main reception. While the guests are mingling outside in that lovely cocktail area, my team and I will come in and handle the last-minute details."

I stuck my tongue out slightly and admired the space. Now I understand why Oaklyn's ratings were so high.

"It's got my seal of approval. I'm hooked. What do you think about the space, Alexa?" I asked.

No rejoinder streams from her tongue. I huff out my chest, irritated. I felt like I was being ignored. Awarkardly, I stopgap with my shoes as Oaklyn holds in caged giggles. Upon arrival, Alexa is now the one who is drawn away from her wedding envisions. Sure, it does give me time to chat with Ms. Miller. It also handed Oaklyn ammunition to tease me later.

"Your fiancee," Oaklyn commences, folding her arms with a sly smirk. "she has more conversations with her phone than she does with you."

"It's not the phone that's the problem, but who's behind it."

Oaklyn's smiles broadened. "Looks like you have some stiff competition on your hands."

I held a finger up and made my way over to Alexa.

"Alexa?" I called.

For the first time in nearly ten minutes, the baby blues of her eyes are lifted from the toxic rays of the cellular device. A thumb on either side of the phone is still stuck in its usual form as if she's a statue. At this rate, texting is a natural reflex to her.

I face her, gently lowering the phone. "What's up?" she questions, eventually noticing her surroundings.

"What's up?" I whispered fiercely. "We're halfway done with the tour, and you haven't put your phone away. What could possibly be more important?"

Those words sounded much more vociferous than intended. Oaklyn had been on the opposite side of the room, but my voice traveled with how much the space was empty.

Alexa blinks, eyelashes batting up and down similar to wings.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how inattentive I was. It's typical work stuff, you know?" she apologizes sincerely.

"I get it, believe me. But this is supposed to be our time together. Can you at least try to be present?"

The phone is tucked immediately back in the satchel. "I'm here now," she said, spreading out her arms and intertwining them together. I wrap mine around her waist. I adjusted a bit to peck her pink lips. My introspections have been elsewhere with Oaklyn, but when Alexa kissed me I remembered why I wanted to marry her. I fell in love all over again.

But we still have a lot to work on. . .

A lot.

My lips parted hers. There's a change in her mindset as if she needed reassurance. "I'm here now," she expresses.

"I like the sound of that." I pleated a stray hair behind her ear. "Now that our phones are away. It's just us and this beautiful ven—"

There's that gruesome ringing again that tells me I'm going to be promised by disappointment.

Alexa frantically scrambles, sliding the zipper open. "Shit, it's Blair. Something must've happened in the office," she goes on erratically before scurrying from her spot and out of the reception hall.

When I turn, Oaklyn is staring at me. The green in her orbs bore with curiosity.

I sighed.

She is rather nosey.

"All right," I started. "Throw it at me. What's wrong?"

Oaklyn's mouth opens and closes. I assumed she had nothing to say. That was until she asked, "Who is Blair?"

"Alexa's assistant. And her best friend who also has a vendetta against me." I explain in short.

"What's the root of that tree?"

Blair and I have never been considered cordial. Taking a rewind back to our college days, she was there from day one—Alexa's roommate. Blair was just as involved in our relationship more than Clark or even me, for that matter. Worse of all, since she secured an official spot on Alexa's team, I haven't seen the last of her.

"She's just overprotective, that's all. No logical reason behind it," I admit. Although I despised Blair just as much as she did me, I will say that her intentions have always been in Alexa's best interest.

I pointed outside, thrashing the subject. "Is this the cocktail area?"

Oaklyn nods. She unfurls the door and clasps it open as I walk after her.

The cocktail space is exclusively open and lavish. An Italian-style stone foundation cements the walls. A yarn of green vines grew from the outside, giving the veneer like one of those architecture European travel magazines I see in doctor's offices. The setting was barely furnished due to the off-season, but I ostensibly knew that it suited Alexa's liking.

"You guys look cute together," Oaklyn said, walking up next to me, and peering at the garden.

My lips forged a straight line and I shrugged.

"Yeah, they all say that," I paused looking out at the huge fountain in the center of the garden. The geysers of water mists in repeat. We were there moments ago. Compared to its grounding, it felt like we were rulers of this place. Now I'm quite unsure if I could. In reality, we're these picture-perfect faces, but behind the mask is a breakout.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Oaklyn doesn't understand my hint fully.

"You see that garden over there?"

"It's much like our relationship. Sure, flowers may bloom beautifully, but without proper care, the plants will eventually wither away. Just like Alexa and I's relationship, we need persistent attention and effort to thrive," I end.

"So let me get this straight. You're saying that there's work to be done in your relationship?"

"Pretty much," I retort, reactionless.

"Then why are you marrying her?"

That's a good question, I think to myself.

That's just the tip of the iceberg.

Right on cue, Alexa bursts through the double doors in a rush, per usual. Oaklyn and I separated from each other, casually pretending that we were in a deep conversation about the budget and package deals of the venue.

Alexa furloughs a long sigh and holds out her hand. "I need to use your car," she urges.

I raised a brow, confused. "For what?" I ask.

I'm trying to keep my cool.

"An issue has come up at the office, and apparently, no one is capable of fixing it except me and it's driving me insane. So for the love of god, Boston, please hand over your keys." Alexa's long and wavy hair is now up in a messy bun. I knew whenever her hair was up, she was in full-on problem-solving mode.

"We can't just leave." I stroke back my dark locks. "We're in the middle of something."

She's running off again. Always in a rush.

"Yes, I know," Alexa is affirmative, checking the time on her smartwatch. "Which is why you need to stay here while I'm gone."

"How do you expect me to get home?"

I'm not a huge fan of allowing other people to drive me around. It's as much equal and terrifying as those death-drop elevators.

"I'll call Vincent. He surely lives somewhere close by," Alexa exclaims, referring to her dad's assistant who I wouldn't trust to steer a shopping cart, let alone a car.

Vincent is an instant no.

"All right, have it your way." I shovel into my pockets and find the key to my car. My car key is attached to three other important keys: the house key, my apartment, her house key, and my motorcycle (if I lost this key, I would actually shed a tear).

Quickly, I jiggle off the key to the Jeep and send it over to her hands.

"You're the best." Alexa flashes a grin and kisses me with a short peck. "Seriously, Oaklyn, thanks again."

The silence when she leaves is palpable. I shouldn't dwell on being embarrassed or relieved that I'm left alone with Oaklyn. First and foremost, I wanted to show how much effort I'm putting into making our special day happen, yet there are also whispering doubts that tell me I'm doing more than necessary.

"Okay, wow. . ." Oaklyn breaks the silence. "Um, you ready to move to the next section?"

A tide of aggravation surfs over me. Continuing this feels pointless since it was never my idea in the first place.

Why should I keep beating a dead horse?

"I've got a better idea," I announced. "You wanted to know why I was at the Luxe Hotel that day. I think it's time I'd come clean."