"Harper—"
"Sorry. That was—" I stumble slightly, my heel catching on his foot.
He catches me smoothly, his arm tightening around my waist. "Careful."
"I'm always careful. That's my problem."
"Being careful isn't a problem."
"It is when you miss opportunities because you're too scared to take risks."
We've stopped dancing. We're just standing there, swaying slightly, having a conversation that feels far too vulnerable for a public event.
"What opportunities?" Victor asks.
You. This. Whatever this is becoming.
But I can't say that. Not here. Not when I'm still figuring out if this is real or if I'm just confusing proximity with feelings, convenience with connection.
"Never mind," I say. "We should?—"
"Victor Kade!" Another voice, another interruption. A woman this time, tall and elegant and vaguely familiar. "I heard you got married! Congratulations!"
Victor's expression shifts back to professional, but his hand stays on my waist. "Thank you. Harper, this is Cynthia Lee, CEO of TechVenture Capital."
"Nice to meet you," I say automatically.
"You too! I have to ask—is the gaming chapel thing real? Because my assistant showed me the video and I thought it was brilliant. Most weddings are so boring."
I blink. "You... liked it?"
"Loved it! So quirky and fun. My daughter wants to do something similar for her wedding next year. Less corporate, more personality. I might steal your idea."
Victor and I look at each other.
"Feel free," he says dryly.
Cynthia laughs and moves on, and we're left standing on the edge of the dance floor.
"Huh," I say.
"Huh," Victor agrees.
"Maybe Rachel was right. About owning the narrative."
"Rachel is usually right. It's annoying."
I laugh, and some of the tension breaks.
The rest of the event passes in a blur of introductions, photos, and small talk. Victor stays close the entire time, his presence steady and grounding. When people ask about the wedding, we tell the story Rachel crafted—whirlwind romance, spontaneous decision, aren't we adorable with our gaming theme.
And the strangest part? It gets easier each time.
Maybe because parts of it are true.
Even a run-in with multiple noisy guests doesn’t derail the high I’m on, and by the time we leave at 11 PM, I'm exhausted and slightly drunk on champagne and the surreal experience of playing Victor Kade's wife in public.
During the car ride home, Victor is quiet. Not his usual controlled quiet—something more thoughtful, almost vulnerable.
