CHAPTER FOUR
ANNA
I was running late. I never ran late, especially to wedding planning meetings.
I was that person who responded to emails within a few hours, if not minutes. I was that person who was often five to ten minutes early.
But today was just not going well. Sure, I could blame it on traffic—everywhere in LA was notorious for its terrible traffic—but it wasn't even for that reason. I'd simply lost track of time.
Anna Dyer never lost track of time.
I nearly ran over a pedestrian jaywalking as I searched for a parking space near the cafe in downtown Pasadena. Of course, the only spot available on the street was in between two massive SUVs, and even my little sedan couldn't parallel park into that space.
This meant going around the block three times until I finally gave up. I
