Page 1 of My Fiancé's Brother

CHAPTER 1

I staredat myself in the grimy glass door of the subway train, trying to avoid the crush of jostling people that pressed against my back. I looked less like a bride-to-be, and more like a college waif with my red hair pulled into a ponytail and my blue eyes devoid of make-up. I had gotten caught up in my book and when I realized how late it was, I had to run just to get out the door, let alone bother with makeup.

The train peeled into my station before jerking hard to a stop, throwing the person behind me against my back. The crowd spilled around me into the underground station once the doors were open. I staggered onto the street above after running up two flights of stairs and passed panhandlers, food trucks that sizzled with the smell of hot grease and overflowing garbage cans. I let out a breath of relief when I reached my destination, the Paper Pelican.

The store was quiet with only the clerk standing at the counter. I glanced at my watch. I was a bit early, and Matt generally was a bit late. I spend an inordinate amount of time browsing through the aisle, trying to look like an avid shopper.

Where was Matt? I checked my phone. No messages. I debatedon what to do. He hated it when I called him out for being late, but the store was only open for another 30 minutes. I had deliberately picked this store for our wedding invitations, because it was two blocks away from his office. I decided, with a bit of trepidation, to send him a text.

Me: I’m just at the Paper Pelican. Are you on your way?

Matt: Got busy. Sorry. You’re on your own.

A headache pinched at the base of my neck. This was the second time that Matt had stood me up at the Paper Pelican. He didn’t seem to realize that I felt paralyzed with indecision about everything that involved our wedding. I needed guidance and input from him. I couldn’t seem to organize a single detail, and our wedding loomed a mere twelve weeks away. Maybe I could bring him some invitation samples to dinner.

Me: Where do you want to meet for dinner?

Another long pause before he responded.

Matt: Stuck in a meeting. Will be home late.

He always did this. Why didn’t he care about our wedding? We had so many things to cover, and he refused to help. Didn’t he realize that I needed his help? Looking towards the counter, I felt sick.

Why hadn’t I hired a wedding planner? Oh right, because Matt had convinced me that we’d have a lot of fun planning this wedding together. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I just needed to be decisive. I squared my shoulders and walked up to the front counter. The clerk looked annoyed. We both knew she wanted to start closing the store.

“I’d like to order some wedding invitations.”

She grabbed an order sheet and then stood poised with a pen. “Do you have a wedding palette color?”

“Uh. Not yet.”

“Do you know how many invitations you need?”

I took a deep breath. Matt still hadn’t given me his guest list. “Perhaps between 50 and 200?”

“Do you prefer a reply card and envelope or a reply postcard?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you know what kind of printing you like?”

A wave of heat washed over my body. “What are my options?”

“Letterpress, engraving, embossing, thermography, and flat printing.”

These choices were impossible. This was precisely why I needed Matt here. What did he like? What did he want?

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know what kind of paper you want?”

My hands curled so tight that my nails dug into my palms. “Not yet.”

“Do you have any idea what you want your invitations to look like?”

This was a mistake. “I should go.”

She eyed the clock. “Okay. Would you like any samples?”

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