I Hate That I Love You

A Strange Beginning

Sophia

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The morning greeted me with an unusual chill, the kind that seeped into your bones and whispered of change. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to shift. Brushing the thought aside, I reached for my planner and flipped through the day’s schedule. My eyes caught Emma Sterling’s name, and I sighed. Another step closer to their perfect wedding, and another test of my patience and professionalism.

Reaching for my phone, I called Emma to confirm the meeting details. Instead of her bright and cheerful voice, a deep male voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Sophia Bennett, the wedding planner. I was calling to confirm our meeting today. May I ask where we’re meeting?”

There was a brief pause before the man abruptly ended the call.

I stared at my phone, confused. Was that her fiancé? Caleb, I think his name was. Shaking my head, I was about to redial when a text notification popped up.

Hi, Sophia! Sorry, I won’t be able to make it to the meeting today. My fiancé, Caleb, will be there instead. Here’s the location: Blossom Café. Thanks, and sorry for the last-minute change! – Emma

I replied with a quick confirmation and set my phone down, a strange sense of unease settling in my chest. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but something about that brief phone call felt off. Pushing the thought away, I gathered my things and let Jake know where I’d be.

“You okay?” Jake asked, leaning on the doorway with his usual air of concern mixed with teasing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Just a weird start to the morning.”

“Well, go slay, babe,” he said, giving me a wink. “And don’t forget to charm the client’s fiancé. Who knows, maybe he’s the one?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m working, Jake. Not matchmaking.”

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The drive to Blossom Café took longer than expected due to traffic, but I arrived with enough time to catch my breath. The cozy café was bustling with mid-morning customers, the hum of chatter blending with the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods.

“I have a reservation under Caleb Morgan,” I told the host.

She smiled politely and led me to a small corner table. The spot was private, away from the noise, and perfect for discussing details. I set up my materials and waited, stealing occasional glances at the door.

It wasn’t long before a figure walked in, commanding attention without trying.

The man was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders and fit him like a second skin. His dark hair, slicked back with just the right amount of effort, complemented the intensity of his eyes—eyes that were as deep and dark as midnight. His stride was purposeful, his every step exuding confidence and power.

As he approached, he caught my gaze and offered a small, almost imperceptible smile.

I stood up hastily, extending my hand. “Hi, I’m Sophia Bennett. You must be Caleb Morgan.”

“Yes, Caleb,” he said, taking my hand in a firm yet warm grip. His voice was rich and deep, sending an unexpected chill down my spine.

We exchanged pleasantries and settled into the meeting. There was no doubt about it—this man was not the one I had spoken to on the phone earlier. The thought nagged at me, but I pushed it aside. It wasn’t my business to question Emma or Caleb’s arrangements.

As we dove into the details of the wedding, Caleb’s focus was unwavering. He asked questions about color schemes, layouts, and floral arrangements with a precision that surprised me. Most grooms I worked with were indifferent at best, leaving all the decisions to their fiancées. But Caleb was different—engaged and meticulous.

“You’re very involved in this process,” I said at one point, unable to hide my curiosity.

He gave a small shrug. “Emma wants everything to be perfect. I’m just making sure that happens.”

There was something in the way he said it, a weight in his tone that hinted at layers beneath his composed exterior. I didn’t press further, though.

After we finalized the details, Caleb leaned back in his chair and studied me. “We should check out the venue for the reception,” he suggested. “It might help you visualize the design better.”

“That’s a great idea,” I agreed, making a note in my planner.

“Then let’s go now,” he said, standing up and grabbing his car keys.

“Oh, I drove here—” I began, but he cut me off with a polite yet firm insistence.

“Leave your car here. I’ll drive. It’ll be quicker.”

I hesitated, feeling a mix of embarrassment and obligation. “Alright,” I said finally, gathering my things.

His car, a sleek black vehicle that matched his entire aura, was parked just outside. The interior was immaculate, the scent of leather mingling with faint traces of his cologne.

The drive was quiet at first, the only sound coming from the low hum of the engine. I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He looked so composed, so sure of himself. It was intimidating, in a way.

“You’ve been doing this for a while?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Planning weddings? About four years now,” I replied.

“And you enjoy it?”

I paused, caught off guard by the question. “It’s… fulfilling,” I said finally. “Helping people create their special day, seeing their happiness—it makes it worth it.”

He nodded, as if satisfied with my answer, and the conversation shifted back to the wedding logistics.

As we approached the venue, a sprawling estate with manicured gardens and a grand ballroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was the beginning of something unexpected.

And as Caleb parked the car and stepped out, offering his hand to help me, I couldn’t ignore the strange flutter in my chest.

This was going to be a very long day. Welcome back, indeed.

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