Chapter 3: The Ghosts Of Bellmare

I didn’t know what made me speak first. Pride? Fury? I looked up at Zane. “Is this a joke?”

His expression was unreadable. “Do you find it funny?”

“No. I find it cruel. Pretending as if you don’t know me… what’s the point? I thought we would both mature enough to handle this.”

Zane was silent for a moment. He looked out of the window. “I’m trying to understand why Sera was so bent on hiring you. But I’m failing to come with a good reason why. You are highly emotional and rash, Ms. Ibe. I wasn’t looking for someone robotic, but you’re crossing boundaries.”

“That was not my intent-“

“I’d assume you knew me in the past,” he interrupted, turning to face me. “Perhaps I knew you also. Pardon me for not remembering, because my memory fails me. However, I do not appreciate mixing emotion and sentiment into a business deal. If you can’t handle the job, I’m sure we’ll find someone more-"

“I’ll take it.”

Zane’s brow lifted. “I only value professionalism.”

“Of course.”

“I won’t take anything less.”

“Deal.”

He observed me for a while. I looked right back at him, my face a mask of indifference. Inside, my belly churned. What did he mean by “my memory fails me"? Did he really have amnesia? Am I that forgettable? Granted, I had ditched my braids for cropped hair dyed blonde and had forsaken the girly tones of my teens to more womanly tones of my twenties. I’d also added a bit of weight. Yet I could still be easily recognizable. I didn’t change much.

Zane walked up to the head of the table and sat down. His posture was relaxed, like he wasn’t just reunited with the girl who healed and then hurt him. I didn’t sit. Not immediately. Instead, I hovered by the table, fingers grazing the edge if the folder Mr. Wade had left for me to sign. My heart was thudding like it was trying to beat its way out of my chest

My stiff fingers flipped through the journal. There was a vision board, venue bookings, the bride's preferences which were minimal and clinical. It seemed cold and dry. Nothing suggested warmth or excitement.

“Your fiancée,” I said. “She doesn’t seem too… involved.”

“She trusts me to handle the details.”

To plan the wedding with your ex-fiancée? I wanted to ask.

“What’s your vision for this wedding?” I asked instead. “Traditional? Contemporary? Destination… though I assume that this venue is non-negotiable?”

He looked at me. “This venue has always been her dream.”

My dream. It was my dream.

“Hmm,” I replied. I turned a page. “And the date?”

“Six weeks from now.”

“Six weeks? That’s short notice.”

“You said you can handle anything.”

I bristled. “I can.”

“Then handle it,” he said evenly. He nodded to the contract. “Aren’t you going to sign it?”

I signed the contract with fingers I no longer trusted.

He stood. “Anything you need, request it through Mr. Wade. Sera prefers not to be disturbed.”

What about you, I thought, but I said, “Of course.”

Zane offered his hand in mock politeness. I rose and put my fingers in his. God, damn! They felt the same. I knew those fingers, memorized every inch of them. I could feel them on my skin, loving, caressing, before our love story turned into ashes.

He walked to the door with a barely perceptible limp. He was about to open the door when I spoke again.

“Zane,” I said quietly.

He froze, hand on the knob. “Mr. Blackwood,” he corrected.

“Mr. Blackwood,” I echoed. I hesitated. My throat tightened. Why? I wanted to ask. Why are you pretending? Why are you doing to me?

But all I said was, “Chrysanthemums? For the flowers?”

“My bride loves chrysanthemums. Put enough of them.” He turned to face me. His voice was cold. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. Not at all.”

I was allergic to chrysanthemums.

“Anything else?”

I hesitated. My throat tightened.

“Why me?”

He turned. His voice was cold. “Because you’re the best. Isn’t that what your portfolio says?”

I didn’t have an answer. “I hope this venue meets your standards.”

“It does.”

A stab wound straight to my chest. Five years ago, he told me that this was where we were going to get married.

He watched me for a long moment, then said, “We start walkthroughs next week. Don’t be late.”

And just like that, he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

##

I stayed in the room for extra thirty minutes just to catch my breath. When I came out, Leah was by the door.

“Amara,” she whispered, looking at me in shock, “you didn’t tell me that the groom was Zane Blackwood.”

“I didn’t know until he walked in. If I had known earlier… I wouldn’t have taken the offer.”

“And he pretended like be doesn’t know you?”

It was a hard pill to swallow. I sighed. “Yeah.”

“Do you think the rumors are true? That he had memory loss after his accident.”

“What accident?” I asked, making my face to be a portrait of cluelessness.

She looked at me weirdly. “You haven’t heard about his accident?”

“I don’t like keeping up with my exes,” I replied, but that was a lie.

I knew all the details of the accident. Supposedly, it happened a few months after I ended things with Zane. He was on his way to work when the driver of his vehicle lost control of the brakes and slammed into a truck coming from the opposite side. Both drivers died instantly. Zane was hospitalized for months.

It was double humiliation for him and his family – first, my whistleblowing which caused their business empire to crash to the ground. And then, the accident and the resulting pressed charges and damage control from the truck driver's family. Most people saw Zane as a victim of circumstances, so they laid him off, but the accident definitely had a toll on him. Media tabloids and articles all headlines Zane’s amnesia, an aftermath of the accident. I didn’t believe it. Surely, memory loss only belongs in fictional tales. But right now, with Zane claiming not to remember me?

I sighed again. “Leah, I don’t know what to believe.”

She looked at me with sympathy brimming in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did you sign the contract?”

“Yeah. Signed my blood to it too.”

“Are you okay?” she repeated, reaching out to touch my hand.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

I smiled tightly. “I’m just trying to process things.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. Then she nodded. “I’ll get started with the layout updates. Do you want me to handle the follow-up with Wade?”

I shook my head. “I need to distract myself,” I whispered. An ache was creeping behind my ribs and aiming for my heart. My vision was already getting blurry.

Leah understood. She was there for me through the breakup with Zane and the scandalous media coverage, my father’s death, and the painstaking process of rebuilding my business from scratch. Her father was my father’s assistant, and although at twenty-two, Leah was four years younger than me, she was the closest thing I had to a best friend.

It's crazy, though. Life is crazy. I had left everything in flames and ran away. I lost everything that night; what else did I have to lose? Now, however, watching the guy I loved plan his wedding with someone else at the venue we had originally picked out for ourselves, I had hit an all time low.

Worse yet, I was to be the wedding planner.

Screw my life.