“Yeah of course. Where?”

“The coffee shop on West Elm okay? I’m only five minutes away.”

“Okay, I’m leaving now.”

I hang up and dress quickly, grabbing my keys and locking up behind me as I dash around the corner where I keep Sam parked. Juls’ voice is really worrying me and I want to get to her as fast as I can. She’s never upset. Her two favorite emotions are elated happiness which is frequent lately after Ian came into her life, and pissed off hurricane Juls mode. The drive to Brocks Coffee Shop is a short distant from the bakery and I park behind her black escalade, hopping out quickly and dashing into the building. I spot her at a table in the corner, her dainty hands wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Hey. Sorry if you’ve been waiting long. Fucking traffic.”

“No, I just sat down. Do you want something to drink?” Typical Juls always concerned about other people and not what’s bothering her. God love her for it.

“No, I’m fine. What’s wrong? You sounded upset on the phone.”

She glances down into her mug. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ian and I went out yesterday after I dropped you off and checked out some wedding venues and reception halls, and I just didn’t care. Like at all. I mean, what the fuck? I’ve been dreaming about my wedding day since I was six.” Her eyes fill up with tears as she turns them up to me. I reach over and cover her hand with mine. “I love weddings, everything about them. That’s why I became a wedding planner. But when it comes to my own wedding, it’s like I have zero opinion about anything. I don’t care whether or not we get married in a church or if it’s an outdoor ceremony, I don’t care what music I walk down the aisle to or what favors the guests will receive or what my cake looks like, no offense.”

My lips curl up into a smile. “None taken.”

“I don’t even care who the hell is invited. All I care about is marrying him. As long as Ian’s there, that’s all I care about.” She blinks and her tears fall down her cheek. “Dylan, honestly, do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

I laugh softly and shake my head. “No, not at all. I think you’re focusing on the only thing that matters. Who cares about everything else?” My hand squeezes hers and she smiles. “I kind of love that marrying Ian is the only thing that matters to you, because it’s the only thing that should matter. You’re going to spend the rest of your life with this man who clearly worships the ground your pretty little feet walk on, so who gives a shit what the fucking centerpieces look like or what the dinner options are for the guests. Fuck the guests.” She bursts out laughing and shakes her head at me and most likely herself for thinking this way. Although, I am a little shocked that she doesn’t have a few things she’s dead set on.

“I love you, Dylan. You really are the only person that understands me.”

Leaning back, I cross my legs under the table. “Well and Ian I’m sure. So what does he say about all this?”

She takes a quick sip of her coffee. “He keeps saying ‘whatever you want, babe’ which would be perfect if I had any opinions at all. I kind of wish he would just take over and make all the decisions because if he leaves it up to me, nothing’s going to get done. Except my dress choice of course.”

“Of course, and what a dress. Does that thing even need to be altered because it fit you perfectly?”

“Hmmm so did yours, both of them.” She pulls out her phone and swipes the screen a few times before handing it over.

I glance down at the picture of me staring at my reflection in the lace halter dress. Jesus, it looks good. “I should make you delete this in front of me.” I hand her back her phone.

“Not a chance in hell.” She slips it back away, quickly so I don’t grab it and delete it myself I’m sure. “What’s new with Reese? You heard from him since the picture incident?”

My stomach knots up and I sigh loudly, rubbing my hands down my face. “No, not a peep. But I guess the distance is good right now. We really shouldn’t be attached at the hip.”

“Dylan.”

I glance up at her serious face. “Julianna.” I never call her by her full name and can barely say it without smiling.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you in love with him?”

I lean my elbows onto the table and cover my face with my hands. After a slow exhale, I reply honestly, “I don’t know. I feel like I’m putting a lot of energy into not falling in love with him, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” I glance over at her. “For a guy that normally doesn’t do the relationship thing, I think he’d be damn good at it. But how stupid would I be to fall in love with someone that doesn’t do anything serious? I’d just be setting myself up for a major heartbreak right?” I begin to rub my temples as she fights a smile. “I’ve never loved any man before. Definitely not Justin. But with Reese? Fuck, I don’t know.”

She leans forward and rubs my arm. “Just because he’s never done relationships before or anything besides casual fucking, doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of doing it. Dylan, for Christ’s sake. The man is crazy about you. Everyone can see that.”

“He’s crazy about fucking me.” I glance around quickly to make sure my heightened voice didn’t draw any unwanted attention. “That’s all this is.”

“You’re really fucking stupid if you think that’s true. Just grow a pair and tell him how you feel already.”

I shake my head at her and purse my lips as she sips her coffee. Of course Juls doesn’t understand where I’m coming from here. She and Ian have been more than serious since they started dating. A thought that’s been running through my mind since Friday comes streaming back. Why did Reese end it with that red headed pyscho? Was it because she wanted more, that she was in love with him and he didn’t or couldn’t feel the same way? I can’t help but think the same fate is lined up for me if I were to let myself fall, so I won’t. I’m going to keep those unwanted feelings buried deep inside me for now, until maybe he eventually decides he wants more. Please God let him want more.

**

I crawled into bed Sunday night after getting a bite to eat with Juls. We both wanted more than just coffee in our system and ate at a local Thai place that we frequented often. I wrapped myself up in my comforter and the University of Chicago T-shirt that Reese lent me and stared at my alarm clock. It was only a little after 8:00p.m. and knew I wouldn’t pass out anytime soon, but I was at least going to try. Closing my eyes, I picture his face, the face I catch him having when he’s watching me, studying me. Crease in his brow, jaw set, eyes narrowed in on whatever it is that I’m doing. Always so studious.

A loud, deafening crash sends them flying back open. What the hell was that? I shoot out of bed and dash down the stairs, skidding to a stop behind my worktop when I see a hooded figure standing outside my now shattered glass store front through the doorway. “Oh shit.” Panic, sheer panic runs through me and I dash back upstairs, grab my phone off my nightstand, and begin dialing the only person I can think of.

“Pick up pick up pick up.” I dart into my bathroom and close and lock the door behind me. Jesus Christ! Someone’s broken into my bakery! Who the fuck breaks into a bakery? After three long rings, I hear his voice.