Something Blue Read online

  Something Blue

  Sean Ashcroft

  Copyright © 2018 by Sean Ashcroft

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Claim Your Free Bonus Scene!

  A Letter from Sean

  Chapter One

  Connor lowered himself gingerly onto one of the plush armchairs scattered around the reception venue, his knees protesting at the sheer amount of time he’d spent bending down today.

  The idea of having armchairs, couches and coffee tables instead of formal seating for a wedding reception had sounded great in theory. Right up until he’d had to arrange all that heavy furniture plus a hundred centerpieces in the space of two hours, with only half an hour’s sleep last night.

  Right now, though, the results looked amazing. A sea of plush furniture in gold and cream with accents in all shades of pink, from delicate to shocking, made the whole place look like something out of Louis XVI’s court. Just like his brief had said.

  It was a setup worthy of a princess, which the bride practically was. Dominique Williamson was fashion-conscious America’s sweetheart of the moment, an heiress and a successful businesswoman in her own right.

  Connor had been shocked to hear from her about planning her wedding. This was his big break.

  The stomach ulcer he’d probably developed pulling it off was totally worth it. She couldn’t be anything other than thrilled with this.

  Connor closed his eyes for a moment, letting the chair beneath him take all of his weight, giving sore, abused muscles a break. He just needed five minutes, and then he’d get right back to work.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Connor’s eyes opened wide, and he found himself staring up at Dominique herself, dressed in a power suit with shoulders sharp enough to take someone’s eye out.

  The scowl on her face looked a lot more dangerous, though.

  Connor stood automatically, not wanting to seem as though he wasn’t paying attention. She had a thing about that.

  She’d been a nightmare to work with, but he’d always rolled over and given her whatever she wanted, because having his name on this wedding would change his life.

  “I told you, no magenta,” she said, shaking a silk flower at him.

  One of the ones he’d just spent two days hand dyeing. His fingernails were still stained from it, no matter how much he’d scrubbed.

  Connor looked at the flower in her hand, confused. He didn’t remember ever hearing that, and even if he had, it was decidedly not magenta, more of a fuscia shade. The dyeing process wasn’t perfect, but Connor had been proud of the effect, and his brief had been pink.

  He’d even shown her a sketch of the centerpieces where the flowers were all different shades.

  “I… can pick out all the magenta ones,” he said, hoping that would be enough to make her happy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not good enough,” she said, tossing the flower on the floor. “And these chairs are too low. How is my ninety-year-old grandma supposed to get up off them?”

  Connor swallowed. “I’m sorry, these are, uh, the ones you approved, I didn’t realize you were looking for something higher up…”

  “I didn’t approve these,” she said.

  Connor had been standing next to her when she’d agreed to them, so he knew that wasn’t true.

  “Of course.” He nodded. “There must be some kind of mistake. I’ll call the hire company, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get this fabric in a different style today…”

  “I don’t want a different style,” she said. “I want these chairs, five inches higher.”

  Connor looked at her, tears pricking at his eyes. He was used to impossible requests from his clients, and prided himself on being able to meet them.

  This one, though, was literally impossible. The chairs had been purpose-made. There weren’t other ones like them, but five inches higher. They just didn’t exist, and with only a handful of hours’ notice, he couldn’t get this many made.

  “I can’t do that,” he said. “But I might be able to find a chair suitable for your grandmother and upholster it to fit in?”

  He’d do it himself if that would make her happy.

  “Are you trying to ruin my wedding?” she asked, her voice suddenly cold.

  Connor swallowed. That was the last thing he was trying to do. He’d poured his heart and soul into this for weeks and barely taken enough time to eat and sleep.

  To his horror, the moment he opened his mouth to say so, he burst into tears.

  Dominique scowled at him again.

  Connor covered his mouth, but it was too late to hide the fact that he was crying. A wave of nausea rolled over him, making his stomach clench. His head started to pound like he was in the middle of the worst hangover of his life.

  If the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole right now, he would have been grateful.

  “Don’t you dare cry at me,” Dominique said, her voice razor-sharp.

  Connor sniffed, wiping his tears on his jacket sleeve, trying to stop more from coming. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He’d done everything she asked and put up with crap like this the whole time.

  She was easily the worst client he’d ever had, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to sob.

  “You’ve been impossible to work with since day one, and I’ve given you a million chances. Fix your mess and don’t expect to get paid for this.”

  She’d given him a million chances?

  Connor replayed that in his head, the words bouncing around, echoing, getting louder. He’d put up with a lot of crap, but he wasn’t about to let her rewrite reality when he knew that wasn’t what had happened.

  “I’ve worked harder on this than I have on any other wedding of my life. You’ve changed your mind at every turn and I’ve been playing catch-up the entire time. I haven’t slept for eight hours in a row for weeks. I haven’t eaten anything other than a coffee since Thursday. I’m sorry you’re not happy, but these are things you approved. And then you changed your mind on the flowers at the last minute and I stayed up to personally hand-dye them, individually. My entire bathroom is pink. I have given you my best.”

  “If this is your best, I’d hate to see your worst,” Dominique said. “You have no business being a wedding planner if this is how you treat your clients.”

  No business being a wedding planner.

  Connor was suddenly standing in front of his father, enraged at the idea that his son was giving up his college education to do what he loved instead.

  “You’re a waste of space,” D
ominique said.

  Connor looked up at her, straightening his back.

  He was willing to take a lot of bullshit, but not that. And if she already wasn’t planning on paying him…

  Screw this.

  “You know what?” he said, stomach knotting up tighter with every syllable. “You’re right. I have no business being here. I quit.”

  Dominique’s mouth fell open. “You can’t quit! The wedding is today.”

  “I know,” Connor said, his confidence returning even as his legs trembled with fear at what he was about to do. “And these flowers belong to me, so I’ll be collecting them before I go.”

  Connor watched with a tiny spark of satisfaction as she looked around the room at all the flowers she’d been complaining about moments before in horror.

  He knew he was blowing his best shot at getting his career to really take off, but the look on her face after all the pain she’d put him through almost made up for it.

  He didn’t have any intention of collecting the flowers—he wasn’t that petty, and he didn’t want to hang around any longer than he had to, but it was nice to give her the smallest taste of what she’d put him through.

  “Have a nice wedding,” he said, turning his back on her and walking away, making sure to keep himself as straight and tall as he could.

  Connor could feel his career crashing and burning around him as he stepped out into the bright sun outside, but his heart was lighter than it had been in weeks.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  Chapter Two

  Six months later…

  “One latte, no sugar, and one slice of chocolate cake,” Max said, putting the hot coffee and slice of dark, rich chocolate cake down on the new guy’s table. He thought he’d heard him introduce himself as Connor, but he wasn’t sure enough to address him that way.

  He’d been in a handful of times over the last few weeks, but Max had never seen him before in his entire life in Hope Springs. He would have remembered him, too. Probably-Connor was always well-dressed and well-groomed, and while he fit in just fine here, he didn’t quite belong.

  He would, one day. People were always happier when they moved to Hope Springs. This guy just wasn’t there yet.

  “I didn’t order cake,” the guy said, looking up at Max.

  “I know.” Max smiled a small, kind smile. “But you look like you just found out Santa isn’t real, so I thought you could use the pick-me-up. It’s the last slice, I’d hate it to go to waste.”

  Declan usually gave Max the last slice, which was a gesture he appreciated, so today he was passing it on. It’d build customer loyalty.

  Not that the loyalty of a man who came in as often as this guy did really needed to be built, but he looked sad, and Max hated to see anyone looking sad.

  “Santa isn’t real?” the guy asked, his eyes widening. A smile spread across his face at the joke, and it was weary, but it seemed genuine.

  That was all Max had wanted. He couldn’t help smiling back. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”

  “I’ve been trying to keep myself off the naughty list all these years for nothing.” He chuckled. “At least I still have unicorns.”

  “Unicorns are definitely real,” Max said. “I’m Max, by the way,” he added, no longer able to stand not knowing this guy’s name.

  He’d gotten to know all the regulars, if he didn’t know them before he’d started working here. He wasn’t letting this one escape him.

  “Connor,” the other man said. “And thank you. For the cake, and for making me laugh. I needed it.”

  “You wanna talk about it? My shift’s pretty much over.”

  Connor glanced at his laptop, and then back at Max, biting his lip. After a moment, he pushed the chair opposite him out with his foot.

  Max sat down, glad to be off his feet after a long shift. He liked working here, and he was grateful for the hours, but he spent most of his life on his feet these days. Taking the weight off them felt amazing.

  “I just… lost a client. It’s not a big deal, but it’s been happening more than I’d like lately.”

  “Oh,” Max said. He had no idea what Connor did, though he’d noticed the stack of what he guessed were fashion magazines next to him. There were always a few with him, every day, and sometimes he flipped through them while he sipped his coffee.

  Other times, he typed furiously into his laptop and forgot about his coffee until it got cold, then drank it all in one long draught.

  He seemed a little weird and a lot distracted, but Max liked him. New faces always made him happy after growing up in a small town. He was glad he’d met Ash and Declan and that they’d been good enough to give him a job here.

  People in Hope Springs looked out for each other. So now, he was looking out for Connor.

  “It’s not a huge deal. I’m not gonna go broke or anything, I just… majorly screwed up about six months ago, and I’m still doing damage control. It’s my own fault.”

  “You’ll fix it,” Max said, sure that was true. Connor had an air of determination about him. Like no obstacle was too big.

  Connor smiled wryly. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” he said, sighing heavily. “I should let you close up, or whatever.”

  “We’re not closing for another hour,” Max said. “And I’ve done all the cleaning I need to do unless someone else comes in, and my shift is over in two minutes, so… if you want the company…”

  “Always,” Connor said, smiling again. There was a little more light to it this time, enough to make Max feel like he was genuinely cheering the guy up. “I adore your hair, by the way. I keep thinking it, but I forget to say while I’m ordering.”

  Max touched his bright blue hair automatically, a blush heating up his cheeks. “Oh, uh. Thanks. It’s, uh… been this way a while.”

  His roots desperately needed a touch-up, but Connor’s compliment felt genuine.

  “Suits you,” Connor said. “Brings out your eyes.”

  “Thanks,” Max said again, glancing down at the table. He’d never been great at taking compliments.

  He was great at customer service, but shy as soon as he was in a social situation, and he felt as though he’d moved firmly into the realm of social with Connor.

  His shift was definitely over, anyway.

  Connor cut a bite of cake neatly with his fork, elegant fingers making every movement look like a ballet. He made a soft, happy sound as he put it in his mouth, licking dark, glossy frosting from his lips and closing his eyes.

  Max blushed, not sure he should have been watching if Connor was enjoying the cake that much.

  “Cake makes everything better,” Connor said, cutting another bite. “Can I offer you half of this? I’m never going to get through it myself.”

  Max shook his head. “No, I think I’ve had enough sugar today.”

  Marcus from the bakery had brought in a whole batch of doughnuts that’d cooked weird this morning, and Max had eaten his fair share of those.

  He quietly suspected Marcus had brought them in for him intentionally, because there hadn’t been anything wrong with them except that they looked like someone had deliberately squished them out of shape while they’d been frying.

  People in Hope Springs looked out for each other, and a lot of people were looking out for him right now. On the one hand, it was nice, but on the other hand, having the whole town know his life was miserable wore on him.

  It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t know. Who didn’t have even a hint of pity or sorrow in his eyes.

  Connor was soothing, and Max was glad now that he’d sat down. Even this tiny break from his normal life was enough to lift some of the weight off his shoulders.

  “You definitely seem sweet enough,” Connor said after a moment, still enthusiastically working on his cake.

  Max was starting to suspect he was being flirted with, which was fine. A little harmless flirting with customers was actually kind of fun.

  It
was a shame that he really needed to leave if he wanted to eat before his shift at the bowling alley started.

  “I hope the cake cheers you up,” Max said, moving to stand. “And I know that whatever’s going on, you’ll get through it. You’ve come this far.”

  “Thank you,” Connor said. “I’ll let you leave in peace. I’ll tell Declan how kind you were.”

  Max blushed again. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said.

  “I do,” Connor insisted. “I know what it’s like to be underappreciated at your job.”

  Max nodded. He didn’t feel underappreciated for a second, but he knew he wasn’t really necessary here. Declan had given him this job out of kindness. Having customers say nice things about him would help his chances of keeping his shifts.

  Not that he thought Declan would fire him, but he liked the idea of showing that he was actually worth what he was being paid, and not just a charity case.

  No one made him feel that way, but he knew he was. Right now, he had no choice but to grin and bear it. His sister was counting on him.

  “Well, thanks,” Max said, grabbing his coat from behind the counter. “The next client will appreciate you more.”

  Connor chuckled. “I sincerely hope so. I’ll see you tomorrow, probably.”

  “Definitely,” Max said, waving as he headed out and smiling to himself.

  It was nice to make a new friend.

  Chapter Three

  Connor settled down in the comfy, frayed armchair in the corner of the bookstore, pulling the magazine he’d bought this morning out of his laptop bag and flipping it over to look at the front page.

  Could your wedding be worth $100,000?

  Connor wet his lips, looking at the big yellow letters that asked the question. This wasn’t a wedding magazine—it was a women’s magazine—but right now, he’d take any opportunity to get his career back on track. He didn’t even care about the prize money, just the chance to show the world that he was good at what he did.

  Taking a deep breath, Connor flicked through the magazine until he found the competition page, spreading it out on the table to read it.