The Wedding Planner

3

"Lunch delivery!"

I glanced up as the door to my office barged open, revealing Nathan who was holding a familiar brown paper bag. My eyes lit up and I reached forward and wiggled my fingers, impatiently waiting for him to hand me my food. Once the bag hit my palms, I brought it up to my nose to inhale deeply and let out a moan. My stomach grumbled and I realized how hungry I was.

Nathan collapsed onto my couch, opening his own bag and dumping the contents out onto the glass coffee table in front of it. We had a Monday tradition of getting subs from the deli next door, which was run by the cutest old man. He made food that was to die for.

"Why was Catherine here?" Nathan asked with his mouth full after taking a large bite. He's sprawled out on the couch, his legs propped up on the armchair, wearing a pale pink button up and khakis. "Shouldn't she be halfway to pound town right about now?"

I snorted and began unwrapping my own sandwich. Chicken caprese, yum. "She wanted to give the final check in person, to say thank you," Nathan raised his eyebrows and I felt like I need to continue the story, "And to give me that groomsman's number."

"Noah?" Nathan exclaimed, shooting up into a sitting position. His eyes were wide, and a sly smirk grew on his face. "Well look at you, getting the sexiest bachelor at the wedding."

I rolled my eyes and dug into my sandwich. "I'm not 'getting him'," I said after a minute, "I threw his number out anyway, he's not my type."

Nathan's hand flew up to his heart and he faked disgust. "What, is extremely sexy not your type? I saw that man, he's everyone's type."

I let my mind travel back to how he looked in his tux, the way his dark hair looked perfectly tousled and his lips curled up into his signature sexy smirk. I was pulled out of my Noah thoughts by the sight of Nathan digging through my trashcan. He pulled out the paper triumphantly and grinned at me. "You should call him."

I reached out for the paper with the intent on throwing it out again, but he stepped back and held it out of arm's length. "Nathan."

"Elle."

We engaged in a short glaring contest before I finally gave up and collapsed back into my desk chair. Nathan happily skipped over to the bulletin board which was hung on the opposite wall as my desk. It was covered with pictures ripped out from magazines and articles discussing new bridal trends of the year. He used a pin to stick the paper up there, where it would be in plain sight.

When he met my gaze, he smirked at me. "Just in case you change your mind," he shrugged and went back to his old seat to finish his lunch. I angrily chewed on my own sandwich, sneering at him whenever we made eye contact. "Come on, you never have any fun. And that boy," he wiggled his eyebrows, "looks like fun."

I couldn't argue with that. Noah did look like fun. But he also looked like the kind of guy who would make me fall in love with him and then drop me like yesterdays news. I don't do casual, I reminded myself.

"He looks like a broken heart waiting to happen."

Nathan made a face and then agreed with me, "He did look deadly."

It was his first statement all day that I agreed with.

The next few days went by more smoothly than Monday, with lots of client consultations and outings to florists and bakers. I had a wedding coming up that weekend that I was busy getting ready for and with all the hectic energy in the office I didn't have time to think about the number pinned to my board until Friday afternoon.