The first dance is always so magical to watch. Georgie’s arms are around Kieran’s neck, both of them swaying to the beat with eyes full of love. She looks glowing in her gorgeous white dress, rhinestones sparkling under the lights.

My eyes tear up as I watch them from the side of the dance floor, only this time it’s not with joy for the happy couple. I’m smiling as best as I can, but I can’t help the pain inside me tonight, wishing it was me up there sharing my first dance with the man I love.

But no. The man I love left me

for another woman just under a year ago. And he’s marrying her today.

I try not to think about the parallel of Jack and Susie sharing their first dance right about now. Picturing my ex’s face as he looks at his new wife like she’s a goddess is enough to make me feel sick, it hurts so bad. I spent

almost a decade at Jack’s side with promises and dreams of a one day that never came, yet Susie got hers less than twelve months after he left me to

be with her. It still chews me up and keeps me awake at night.

I loved him. I wanted him. I lost him.

The whole town I grew up in knows about it, too.

It’s hard not to feel like shit about yourself when everyone else is speculating on why you got dumped by the man who was your everything.

So many people whispering rumours of how great Susie is in bed, and how loudly Jack sings her dirty praises to his friends.

The sorry thing is that a sad little part of me believes every nasty word they said.

Thank God I took the opportunity of the relocation at work, and upped and left for somewhere new. And here I am, now. Just a few weeks into

starting over. A new life all on my own.

I collect my thoughts, pushing myself back into the job at hand. Georgie and Kieran should be the only ones on my mind tonight. Jack and Susie should be nothing to me. Not anymore.

I’m not expecting Georgie to head my way after the first few dances, but she does. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes tight with a grateful smile. It makes me feel guilty and ashamed for not being genuinely happy for her.

“Honestly, Cass, thank you so much! I was so worried when you stepped in and took over from Beverley, but you’ve been amazing.

AMAZING!”

It’s a relief to hear. Transferring to another branch was always going to be risky. Introducing myself to clients already in the process of planning their big day and gaining their trust was a daunting task, but I’m succeeding. It’s one thing I have to be proud of, at least.

Georgie doesn’t stay with me long, grabbed by one of her sisters who pulls her back to the dance floor. I let my smile drop, thankful that I don’t have to keep up the happy for you act, because I’m struggling with every minute.

A waitress passes by and offers me a glass of prosecco. I wouldn’t usually drink on a work night, but fuck it, I take one. My wedding planner

tasks are pretty much finished, everything having gone perfectly to plan.

The fizz of prosecco doesn’t help my mood all that much, but I finish my drink and take another glass anyway. Screw it. Everyone is caught up in the party, and I’m redundant from here on in.

I always stay until the very end in case of emergencies, so tonight I kick my own inner demons in the face and make the most of it. It only takes a

few minutes before I finish up drink number two and take a third glass of prosecco from a waitress, despite the fact I rarely drink. I’m already a littleway past tipsy, but I’m losing the ability to care. My senses are hazier than

they should be, small talk becoming more and more distant as the room

empties, even though the party lights are still going strong.

It’s when Georgie and Kieran make their exit for the passion of their

wedding night that I truly relax and take a seat at the bar, promising myself

I’ll finish my glass of prosecco and head off to my hotel room, and I mean

it, until a man comes and takes a seat at the bar beside me.

I noticed him at the church ceremony earlier, and again during the

wedding speeches. He’s been on one of the far tables all evening, chatting

happily with a group of Georgie’s friends.

“You’ve done a fantastic job,” he tells me as he sits down. “I’ve been to

many weddings, but let me tell you, this one was truly exceptional.”

So, he knows I’m the wedding planner.

I’m tipsy enough to spin to face him with a smile. He’s hotter up close than he was at a distance, and at a distance was plenty hot enough. His tux is so smart it must have come from a designer, like he’s dressed for a red-

carpet event and not a wedding venue in Worcester. His dark hair is styled casually but not casually, both at once – so he definitely knows what he’s

doing on the appearance front. His hair has plenty of grey amongst its darkness, and it suits him. A lot. His stubble matches, and there is no doubt he’ll make an absolutely gorgeous silver fox one day in the not-so-distant

future. But above all that are his eyes – striking green. Just looking into them makes me smile.

He really does look red carpet worthy. I’d feel like a princess walking down any carpet with him. That’s what the prosecco tells me, anyway.

“Thanks,” I say, and it sounds a pathetic response to such a glowing compliment, so I raise my glass to him. “That means a lot.”

He must notice that I’m a little tipsy, and hence not quite as professional as I should be, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he finishes up his

drink and calls the barmaid over. He’s drinking mineral water and orders another, as well as a drink for me. Only it’s not a refill of prosecco he orders.

“A bottle of De Chante for the incredible wedding planner, please.”

I know De Chante champagne costs a fortune. It’s one of the options on my planning list, but barely anyone ever takes it.

“A bottle? My God, thank you, but you’ll have to help me drink it!” I look at his glass of water. “I guess you’re driving, though?”

“Nah, I’m not driving, I’ve got a room booked upstairs. I don’t drink alcohol actually, but I’m sure you’ll manage the De Chante, or take it home

with you. You deserve it.”

The barmaid asks me if I’d like the bottle opened. I really shouldn’t, but the words come out of my mouth regardless.

“Yes, please.”

The barmaid uncorks the bottle. She pours me a glass and I raise it to the very generous stranger by my side like a grateful, drunk fool. I should have a few sips and retreat to my room with the bottle like a sensible professional, but I don’t want to. It’s not just hating the thought of being alone tonight that keeps me sitting there, it’s also him – the guy on the barstool. He’s so relaxed in his tux, naturally owning the space and my

attention, even though I don’t even know his name. That’s something I need to remedy.

“Cass,” I tell him, and hold out a hand.

“Ant,” he says back and takes it in a firm handshake. “I’m one of

Kieran’s friends from high school.”

That surprises me, seeing as he’s been with friends of Georgie’s all evening.

“Ah, okay, I thought you were here with the Chandley sisters.”

He shakes his head. “No, I barely know anyone here. They seemed the most interesting contenders for the day. Until I saw you.”

The music is still playing from the stage, so I think I’ve misheard him.

“Sorry?”

“Until I saw you,” he says with ease. “I’ve been watching you all day.

You’ve been so in control. Vibrant. Alive. I love those qualities in people.”

He must have been watching me subtly, since I haven’t noticed at all.

“Thanks,” I reply and hold my glass up all over again, like an idiot. I’m definitely drunk.

The glow of flattery is ten million times better than the stab of maybe I’ll never get a day like this of my own, so I grab hold of it with both hands.

The conversation we have is a light one about Georgie and Kieran and how well Ant used to get on with Kieran at school. Some of his stories make me

laugh. Another glass of De Chante makes me laugh a lot more.

It’s when I’m laughing at the fact Georgie and Kieran once had a play fight with her mum’s tomato sauces that Ant puts his hand on my knee and leans in, just a bit. At that one single contact I know for sure I’m fucked.

It’s when he leans in further and whispers in my ear that it’s time for bed, that I know I’m going to be fucked.

“Are you coming to my room?” he asks, just like that. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Um, yeah. Sure,” I reply, even though it feels like anything but the most natural thing in the world. The thought should be crazy. I’ve only ever been with Jack, so what the hell am I doing?

What I’ve been doing all day is pining over a guy who left me with little more than a wave goodbye as he walked away to another woman, so maybe

it’s time for a change. Maybe it’ll help me forget him. Who knows? It’s got to be worth a shot.

I feel higher than a kite on tottery legs as the stranger called Ant and I climb the elegant Hanley Hall staircase together and he takes his room key

from his pocket. I lean against the door frame as he opens the door, and he stares at me dead straight, with serious eyes.

“You’re not too wrecked to know what you’re doing, are you?” he asks.

“There’s no way I’d ever take advantage.”

I grin, because I’m not lying. Jack and Susie and my dreams of a big white wedding that might never happen can go fuck themselves tonight.

“I’m sure,” I tell him. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m glad about that,” he says, and steps aside to let me pass.