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“I can see why they chose you.” His observation makes my heart skip a beat.

“Thanks.” I blush. “So, it just seemed easier to plan something more mainstream, with my own flair, of course. Something that sells my service more so than me as a nostalgic bride. I mean, if that’s okay? I know it’s not exactly honest.” Doubt creeps in like a shadow.

“Beautiful and smart. I get it, that makes sense. But I do think that you’re really underestimating yourself. But it’s your call. You’re the professional.”

“I have most of the stuff picked out already. It’s just a matter of attending the appointments for photo ops, and they mentioned the photojournalistic style. Very much Pinterest meets Instagram.”

“It’s funny you should say that. I’ve been researching taking the magazine digital.”

“I think that is brilliant! Just imagine the possibilities for planning checklists—brides would love it!”

I’m not prepared for the megawatt smile he unleashes on me. It’s a panty melter, for sure.

“Thanks. Also, that is some top secret info, so please don’t say anything to anyone.”

“Yep, got it. Say no more. But it really is a great idea, Beau.” It’s still a little foreign knowing his name.

“Thanks, Sunny.” But his nickname for me feels comforting and familiar.

“My schedule can be rearranged, but I need to go home and clear up a couple things. I could be there by next Thursday?”

“That works. Where is home for you?” I tear into a croissant, suddenly ravenous, feeling like maybe, just maybe, we can pull this off. Delicious. I moan in appreciation around the fluffy, buttery goodness.

“If I knew you would make sounds like that, I would have ordered sooner.”

Our gazes clash;h, mine embarrassed, his heated.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “Manhattan.”

“I’ve never been, but it’s on my bucket list. I bet it’s glamorous.”

“It’s just home, a place close enough for my grandfather to keep me on a short leash when I’m not traveling.” Beau definitely has that sophisticated, New York way about him. And he looks killer in a suit.

“Speaking of family. I was planning on introducing my fiancé to mine next week. How will this work?” I don’t know how far he’s willing to take this. “I mean, obviously, I planned to marry Henry for real.”

He leans forward, his eyes intensely watching me, and it’s only in the late-morning light streaming through the window that I notice brown flecks in his green eyes. “What if we got married for real?”

“What?” I sputter and choke as my coffee goes down the wrong pipe. Gasping for air, I try not to make a mess of the lovely white linens.

Beau is up in a flash, patting my back. “She’s fine,” he announces to the few lingering patrons looking our way. “Just breathe.” He kneels down next to me, taking my hand in his, rubbing smooth circles along the back of my hand.

Now I’m finding it hard to breathe for other reasons. His gorgeous green eyes are level with mine, his dark brow etched with concern as he watches me.

“Better?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I clear my throat. “Maybe some water.”

For what feels like the umpteenth time, the waiter comes back, and Beau requests water.

“I bet this kid will be glad when we leave,” I mutter.

“It’s not that bad. Plus, I’ll tip him extra.” He laughs, sliding back across from me,

“Well, he’s seen me shocked, embarrassed, angry, crying and choking.” I rattle off the list. “Oh, let’s not forget the day drinking.”

“Can you really call mimosas at lunch day drinking?” Beau jokes.

I ignore his comment to get back on topic. “So, what you said.” The words are lodged in my throat. “Why would you do that?”