She looked fragile and out of place in his expansive and dusty workshop, her short pants and white blouse immaculate, her black belt encircling her tiny waist. But then Kate always looked as if she’d been snapped straight from an ironing board.

“I thought he loved me,” she whispered, her words wavering.

Lucas took a step toward her, then stopped, anchoring his hands in his pockets. “It’s going to be okay.” It felt lame but it was what he always told his baby sister, and it made Jamie feel better. Kate, however, was not Jamie.

“It is not going to be okay.” She leveled a look at him. “I’ve been dumped five hours before my wedding. Everything is riding on this wedding, both personally and professionally. My Mr. Right left me. Do you not understand the irony?”

Maybe he wasn’t your Mr. Right. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he caught it in time. He watched Kate’s hand tremble against the side of her face. He hadn’t known Kate was capable of trembling.

“I’m supposed to be an expert. Not just in relationships, but in finding the right mate. People write me for advice and trust me to give them answers. I wrote a book to help people make good matches, and I can’t even make one myself.” She looked away and dragged in a shaky breath. “I’m a failure.”

“You’re not a failure. Your fiancé made an idiot decision; that’s not your fault.”

The metal chair creaked as she sank into it, the sound echoing in the quietness of the room. “That’s not how everyone’s going to see it.”

He reckoned she might be right about that. People could be judgmental, especially if the media put a nasty spin on it.

“I’ve got to do something,” she mumbled through her fingers. “How can I fix this?”

Lucas didn’t think it was possible. She had guests, a slew of media, and all the wedding fixings. Everything but the groom, and that was most important.

Everything but the groom.

The words ricocheted around his head until, one by one, they fell into place like tiles in a Scrabble game.

Everything . . . but . . . the groom . . .

He rubbed the back of his neck, walking toward his work station. It was crazy. Crazier than crazy. It was insane. She’d laugh if he said it out loud. That thought tightened his gut.

Her phone clattered, vibrating on the metal desk. He watched it do the jitterbug.

“I can’t answer,” she said. “I can’t deal with it right now. I don’t know what to say.” She crossed her arms, and her shoulders scrunched up as though she wished she could cover her ears with them.

Together they watched the phone. Ring-bzzzzzzzz . . . Ring-bzzzzzzz . . . When the noise stopped, there was a palpable relief.