By four o'clock, we were all running on nothing but stress muffins. But the hall looked perfect.
Now, at six p.m., the doors open, Lakeview is pouring in, and the bar is immediately swarmed.
Arthur is entirely in his element. He’s pouring drinks with one hand, making change with the other, and flashing a grin that is actively extracting heavy tips.
I’m currently fishing a rogue cocktail napkin out of a centerpiece when Mrs. Patterson appears at my elbow. She smells like expensive hairspray and Pinot Grigio.
"You all have done a beautiful job," she says, her eyes sweeping over the packed room. She leans in conspiratorially. "I heard about the potato salad situation."
"Ben's never going to live it down," I say.
She takes a delicate sip of her wine. Her eyes track across the room: to Arthur pouring drinks, to Knox collecting tickets, to Mason seamlessly clearing empty glasses from a nearby table. "The three of them have really stepped up. People are noticing."
"Thank... you," I say, because I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say.
"I mean it." Her hand, cool and weighted with rings, covers my wrist. "The whole town knows what you did for Harper and Ben. That's the kind of thing people remember."
She drifts away toward the raffle table, and I’m left standing by table four, a strange, tight knot forming in my throat. The sensation is unfamiliar. It’s not pride, exactly. But more like... feeling seen?
Too bad that glow lasts for exactly three minutes before it's completely vaporized by a wave of pure nausea. Grant and Jessica sweep through the double doors at seven-thirty. And I do meansweep.
Grant is wearing a pristine white polo and Jessica in a seafoam sundress, her blonde hair styled in cascading, flawless waves. They definitely don't look like they spent half of their day hauling tables.
My stomach does a slow, complicated roll. I watch them bypass the crowd, bee-lining straight for Ben and Harper near the entrance.
"We aresosorry we're late!" Jessica calls out, practically broadcasting it to anyone within a fifteen-foot radius.
"We totally would have come early to help," she continues, pressing a perfectly manicured hand to her chest. "But Grant had a tee time at the country club he simply couldn't miss. And I had my final hair-and-makeup trial for our engagement shoot tomorrow."
She pauses to tuck a flawless, seafoam-adjacent curl behind her ear. "I tried to reschedule, but my stylist was booked solid through August."
Harper blinks. There's a micro-pause where I can see her brain physically buffering. Then she seems to manage an awkward "Thanks for coming."
"We wouldn't miss it," Jessica says. She looks around the room. Her eyes snag on the bar, then on Mason carrying a stack of broken-down cardboard boxes toward the back. Her smile widens. "It looks so charmingly DIY in here."
Wow. The woman is a black belt in covert bitchiness.
The draft beer I drank earlier turns to acid in my stomach. I scan the room, but the comment has already dissolved into the noise of the party.
When I look back, Grant is at the raffle table, wallet out, peeling off bills with the theatrical generosity of someone who wants witnesses.
"What can I say," Grant announces to the immediate vicinity, dropping an obscene amount of cash in front of Knox. "I'm feeling lucky. Give me the rest of the roll."
Knox just stares at the money. He methodically counts it, tears off a moderate strip of tickets, and slides them across the table.
"Inflation," Knox says, deadpan.
For some reason, Grant seems offended, his smile tightening into a grimace. He takes his tickets and retreats back to Jessica.
I gloat.
Mason suddenly appears at my elbow. He presses a cold plastic cup into my hand. His rough fingers brush my knuckles in the transfer, sending a sharp, electric spark up my arm.
His free hand settles at the base of my spine, the heavy, possessive warmth of his palm doing absolutely nothing to ground the electricity suddenly zipping through my veins.
"Some refreshment," he says, his voice a low rumble beneath the music.
I look up at him. There's sawdust in his hair. "Thanks."
