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“Okay, we can always reschedule. I’ll call the magazine and tell them to let their writer know we need to push it back. We’re already cutting it close to making the print deadline, with planning a wedding in thirty days.” My heart beats in time with my racing brain, bouncing back and forth between disbelief and denial.

Maybe being featured in Blissful Bride is too much for him. I know we weren’t planning to get married so soon, but when the opportunity came up to be featured in one of the top selling bridal magazines I couldn’t pass it up. This is huge for me and for my business, Simply Southern Weddings. And I thought Henry understood that.

“No—stop. Just stop,” he snaps before his tone softens. “Just stop going all Lucy and overthinking this. Babe, I’m not coming. Not today—not ever.” The pet-name he once called me turns my stomach sour.

A symphony of gasps surrounds me, a harsh reminder that I’m not alone and my phone is on speaker.

“I can’t breathe,” I choke out. “I need out of this dress.” My hands are everywhere, tugging at silk, trying to free myself from the fabric that is suddenly feeling like restraints.

“On it.” Camilla rushes to undo the laces on the back, and someone fans my face.

“Christ… your fitting. You’re there now?” He sighs heavily, like this is somehow my fault.

I told him what I was doing today, he just didn’t listen… always focused on himself. That should have been my big red flag right there, but I just let it fly on by. I was never first. Not then, not now, and apparently not ever.

“Lift your arms.” Camilla whispers as she lets the dress fall to my feet. It’s as if something clicks in this moment. I’m not upset that this man is leaving me. I’m angry that I wasted so much time on on him, giving him time, making excuses, following him on his journey when he wasn’t even willing to follow me on mine.

Selfish bastard!

“Not that it matters, but yeah. Like you would know—you never bother to know what’s going on with me, even when it pertains to our wedding.”

“Look, Lucy, I’m sorry. That’s the thing. I didn’t agree to this,” Henry mutters, his voice tinged with anger.

“To what? Marrying me? Because pretty sure you asked me, not the other way around.” The words catch in my throat, and my chest tightens as I wait for his answer.

“Yes—no—I don’t know. I didn’t agree to this. None of this. It’s turned into a fucking circus, not a wedding,” he admits with what sounds like regret. But he can’t possibly—I’m the one who is filling with regret like a rising tide on a starless night. And right now, I’m about to float his damn boat out to sea.

“Are you being serious right now?” My voice wavers, betraying my attempt at composure, as I struggle to grasp the reality of his words. I didn’t force him into this.

“Look, Lucy—you know I love you. I always will. But this whole big-dreams, small-town wedding planning fiasco isn’t for me,” Henry sighs. “I didn’t sign up to be the face of small-town weddings—it’s not my brand. You know that.”

Brand? Unbelievable

“It’s not just some silly aesthetic, Henry. It’s my life!” My voice cracks, desperation seeping into every syllable, my heart pounding in my chest. “Our life.”

“I know, and I thought maybe you wanting to be back home after your mom died was just a—I don’t know—maybe a phase,” Henry confesses, his words trailing off.

And there it is.

“A phase!” Hysteria bubbles up. He’ll never understand the depth of my love for my family. How could he? The man is a fashion photographer who lives out of a suitcase, always chasing the next big job. I should have known when he couldn’t even be bothered to visit my hometown once in four years. Not even for my mom’s funeral.

“But now I see you’re really committed to this whole small-town wedding planner thing…”

“You keep forgetting that part where You. Proposed. To. Me! You proposing via FedEx should have been my first effing clue as to how heartless you are.”

“I know, and to be honest, I thought giving you your dream ring would snap you out of this whole mopey, sweet home Alabama thing. That you would come back to me, and we could travel the world like we talked about. How was I supposed to know that giving you a ring would land you a feature article with Blissful Bride? I mean, I should have known because of who I am, and our city meets country wedding could really put you on the map, but I’m already there, babe. And I’m offering you a one-way ticket to come with me,” Henry reasons selfishly.

“Why did you even ask me to marry you?” The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken pain, my voice trembling as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, my heart aching with the weight of his betrayal.

“Honestly, I got tired of waiting around after you left school in Savannah and then my career took off in Europe. I never expected you to find yourself and start a bridal business in some backwoods town in nowhere Alabama. I figured a ring would make you see things more clearly and that you would finally come around and see things my way,” Henry admits, his words like a knife to my heart, slicing through the fragile threads of hope that this was all a bad dream.

More like nightmare.

“So, let me get this straight. You only want to marry me if I come along and support your career, which, in case you forgot, is because of me! Your connection to the fashion world was from a wedding that I did. And now that things are happening for me and I’m given one of the biggest opportunities of my career, it’s ruined because you suddenly had a change of heart because I don’t want to elope and follow you around the globe like a lost little puppy. I want to get married in Magnolia Grove. It’s my home,” I plead as anger replaces sadness.

“I thought the saying was ‘home is where the heart is,’” Henry counters defensively, always having to have the last word.

“Yeah—well, obviously, that’s not with you.” My heart shatters into a million pieces as the realization hits me like a sledgehammer.