“What you need,” Mari said, not unkindly, “is to give her space. She’s not just angry, Cal. She’s hurt. Deeply hurt. And showing up here unannounced isn’t helping.”
“Then what will help?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. “Tell me what to do, Mari. How do I fix this? Ineedto fix this.”
She studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
“More than I know how to handle.”
Mari sighed, then glanced over my shoulder and gestured for me to follow her into a small conference room. Once the door was closed, she turned to face me.
“Look, I’m going to help you, but only because I believe you genuinely care about her and aren’t just trying to salve your wounded ego.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned, echoing Gram’s earlier caution. “If you hurt her again, I will personally ensure that every wedding vendor in the tri-state area knows exactly how to make your life miserable. I’m talking flower arrangements that induce sneezing fits, photographers who only capture your badside, and DJs who mysteriously only play the Macarena when you’re in the room.”
“Noted,” I said, trying not to smile at her fierce but very strange loyalty. “So what do I do?”
“First, you respect the professional boundaries she’s established. The wedding planning continues with Devonna as your point of contact. If Anica wants to be directly involved, she will be. That’s her choice.”
I nodded, though it pained me to think of continuing the wedding charade when the only woman I wanted was currently refusing to speak to me.
“Second, you figure out what you actually want. Not what your friends want, or what your business interests dictate, or what your parents’ screwed-up marriage taught you to expect. What do you, Callan Burkhardt, actually want?”
It was the same question Gram had posed, and it deserved the same careful consideration.
“And third,” Mari continued, “when you have an answer to that question, you show her. Don’t tell her—show her. Anica has had enough experience with men who broke her trust and her heart. The Douche Who Shall Not Be Named was–”
“Austin? Ow!” I rubbed my shoulder where she punched me in the arm. “You two are violent.”
“I said he wasn’t to be named, asshole.” Mari shook out her hand, eyeing my arm. “What do you have under there? Steel plating? Shit, that hurt.” She wrinkled her nose, refocusing on my face. “Anyways. Like I was saying the Dickhead with the microdick was really good at words. He tried to gaslight her into getting back with her after he fucked that client. She nearly did. Thankfully, I’m a good friend and didn’t let her, and he ended up sleeping with a different woman while trying to win Anica back.”
“What a douche.”
“Exactly.” Mari nodded once. “My point is, he broke her trust. And her heart. And her faith in men. You had started to fix that until this little fuck up.”
I ran my hand through my hair and started to pace the room. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her.” Facing Mari, I shoved my hands in my pockets and planted my feet. “I’m serious, Mari. You have to believe me.”
She gave me a once over. “You need to take action. Words won’t mean shit.”
“Action,” I repeated, an idea beginning to form. “I can do action. But I might need help.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Anica can’t know, though.”
“I agree,” I said, nodding. “At least for now.”
“Good, now get out before Devonna realizes I’m helping you and puts laxatives in my coffee.”
“She wouldn’t really?—”
“Try me,” Devonna’s voice came from the doorway, making both of us jump. She stood there with her tablet clutched to her chest and a terrifyingly pleasant smile on her face. “Mr. Burkhardt, how lovely to see you in person.”
“Devonna,” Mari said with a warning look. “Callan and I were just?—”
“Conspiring?” Devonna suggested, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Plotting? Attempting to circumvent my very explicit instructions to keep him away from Ms. Marcel?”
“Something like that,” I admitted, deciding honesty might be my best approach. “But not for the reasons you think.”
Devonna stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her. “Enlighten me then, Mr. Burkhardt. What exactly are your reasons for lurking in our conference room with Ms. Landry?”
