“And you never did learn to tie the bow tie,” he pointed out.

“That’s true. Regular ties are much easier. Clarke doesn’t have to wear a tux, does he?” Audrey asked the wedding planner.

“That’s up to Clarke,” Alexis said, smiling. “It’s okay if you haven’t thought about it before, but if you let yourself think about it now, your ideal wedding day, what are you wearing?”

He resisted the urge to quip “sweatpants,” guessing he wouldn’t be the first groom-to-be to think he was hilariously original to joke about bucking the trend of formal wear.

Clarke shifted awkwardly in his seat, both women watching him expectantly. Realizing the sooner he played along, the sooner he could get out of this, he reluctantly answered the question.

“A tux. I guess.”

Alexis nodded. “So, more formal. Do you see yourself getting married here in the city? Or a destination wedding?”

“Here,” he said without hesitation. He was a New Yorker through and through and rarely found reason to leave the city. He didn’t even like vacationing much. Everything he wanted from his life was right here, starting with Audrey.

“Church?”

“Yes,” he said, again without hesitation. Then he frowned. “I mean, I guess. It doesn’t have to be.”

“Gut reactions are valuable,” Alexis said. “Even if you haven’t consciously envisioned your wedding, chances are your subconscious has sort of chewed on it over the years in the back of your mind.”

She was right, he realized. He had never sat and daydreamed about his future wedding. In fact, any time he had thought about his future wedding, it was in terms of the one he wouldn’t have.

It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t envision a wedding day; it was that he had never been able to envision a marriage. He’d flirted with the idea just once. Once, when he thought maybe he and Elizabeth could make a go of it.

But then she’d left, and he’d come back to his senses. Clarke loved women. He respected them. And because of this, he couldn’t imagine shackling any woman to him.

He glanced over at Audrey, the best woman he knew.

Not a real wedding, he reminded himself. And so he played along.

“I want big,” he told the women with an unabashed grin. “None of this small and intimate stuff. I want the spectacle. I want everyone I know to see that the most amazing woman in the world chose me. And then I want a hell of a party to celebrate it.”

Alexis nodded. “Audrey? How’s that sit with you?”

Audrey looked his way and smiled. “Pretty much my thoughts exactly. I’ve always been the big-white-wedding girl. The princess dress, the wedding march, all eyes on me, the Plaza, doves—”

“Doves?” Clarke interjected.