Page 103 of The Plus One Professional
Had I made a mistake?
During those early morning hours, when I’d laid in his arms after we made love for the second time and he was sound asleep, I’d panicked. I’d slipped from underneath the warmth and safety of his arms and gone to the kitchen so I could think clearly, something I could not do with his arms wrapped around me.
I decided to count the red flags in the relationship.
Red flag number one: Cole worked as an escort. Even if sex wasn’t involved, there was no way we could see each other. Maybe, if I wasn’t a wedding planner and I wouldn’t have to see him with other women, I might be able to deal with it, but that was a big maybe.
Red flag numero dos: Getting drunk because you see someone who isn’t your boyfriend with another woman is not a sign of someone who is ready for a relationship. It’s a red flag.
And although technically, Cole wasn’t a rebound since Simon and I hadn’t been officially a couple, he still felt like one. Red flag number three.
The final crimson banner was what we wanted out of life. He’d said he didn’t want children, and that was fine. But I’d always seen myself having a family.
Four red flags were not a good foundation for a relationship. I knew that on an academic level. But now, as I sat here with Whiskey and Duke, I was playing devil’s advocate to my flags, turning them a lovely shade of pink instead as I rebutted my previous statements in the court of love.
Yes, Cole was a professional plus one, but he wouldn’t cheat. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. If we were together, he would never do anything to disrespect me.
Had I drunk a lot of wine, sure, but in fairness to me, it’s not every day that you run into the man you love on a ‘date’ with a woman like Charli James while you’re at work. I feel like I’d acted totally reasonably. If I’d done it after seeing Cole and Lindsay kiss, then it might be more of an issue. But I felt I could confidently file that behavior away as a one-time occurrence.
And as far as a rebound went, they weren’t the kiss of death. I think they were only a problem if someone still had feelings for their ex, which I absolutely did not. If I wanted to be with Simon, I would be with him. I didn’t want that.
Finally, I loved kids, yes, but I’d always seen myself as a kickass aunt. If I were with someone who wanted a family, then that would be great, but I honestly believed I could be perfectly happy being Auntie Bailey. Cole had nephews and a niece, with whom he seemed to be very close.
As I sat reconsidering my decision, an email from Billie popped up. I clicked on it and saw that it was a Dropbox link. She mentioned earlier that she was updating the event coordination page on the website and wanted Birdie and my input on which photos she should put up.
I clicked on the link expecting to find a variety of photos from the past two years of weddings that we’d done. The photos we had up now were mainly of the venues pre-wedding and reception to show the setups. Since we’d been doing this for so long, we had good relationships with most of the photographers that we worked with, and they would send us behind-the-scenes shots as well as candid shots of us at the event. So we’d stockpiled photos of us with the bride getting ready, speaking to vendors, and working the ceremony and the reception.
When I saw the first image, my heart sank. It was not only from the first wedding that Cole had seen me, but it was also the moment he’d said he noticed me. You couldn’t see Georgia, the bride, or how upset she was because her back was to the camera. But my face was visible as I spoke to her, and off to the side was Cole. He was looking at me like…like he always looked at me. Like I was the only woman in the world.
As I clicked through hundreds of images, certain ones jumped out at me. Or, I should say, a certain person jumped out at me.
Cole Crawford.
It was strange to see us in the same place before I even knew him. As I clicked through the photos, I remembered our conversation and what I’d been wearing each time he’d seen me.
“You’ve worn two blazers, four long-sleeved shirts, three quarter-sleeve shirts, and one sleeveless turtleneck. The turtleneck was my favorite.”
At the time, the significance hadn’t really sunk in. It had been flattering, but having the visuals of the encounters in front of me took things to a whole different level. But now that I saw myself in two blazers, four long-sleeved shirts, three quarter-sleeved shirts, and the sleeveless turtleneck, it struck me just how much he had been paying attention to me.
My phone rang, and I picked it up half expecting it to be him. As if we’d had some sort of psychic connection, and he sensed that I was looking at photos of us. When I saw it was Billie, I felt ridiculous.
“Hey,” I answered.
“He loves you.”
“What?”
“Cole. He loves you.”
“You don’t know that,” I argued.
“What’s my favorite part of any wedding?”
“When it’s over.” I was only half-joking. Billie was by far the least romantic of the three of us.
“When the bride is walking down the aisle and all eyes are on her, I always watch the groom.”
Right. She had told me that before.
