It was beautiful.
And then Noah reached for James, clapping a hand on his shoulder before pulling him into a quick, unguarded hug. They both chuckled, that low, familiar sound men make when they’re trying not to get sentimental in public, and when Noah stepped back, he was smiling.
Not the polite, strained smile he’d worn all morning.
A real one.
The kind that reached his eyes.
And before I could stop myself, I was smiling too.
And right in that moment, as if the universe had appointed itself head of dramatic timing, the fireworks behind the floral arch exploded with a thunderous crack.
Colour and silver glitter burst across the sky.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, completely oblivious to the fact I’d almost jumped clean out of my shoes.
As the guests flittered towards the bar, Cleo fast-walked over to me like a hyperventilating meerkat.
“Everything’s running smoothly, but the quartet wants to know if they should switch to jazz or stay romantic string vibes?”
“String for another twenty minutes, then jazz.”
“On it.”
She sprinted off like a tiny colourful missile.
I exhaled, letting the moment wash over me.
The ceremony was done.
And for one brief, impossible moment, everything felt amazing.
Chapter Thirty-Four
By the time the fairy lights really started to earn their keep, the reception was in full swing.
The long marquee glowed from the inside out, light spilling across the lawn like honey. Glassware clinked, laughter rose and fell in waves, and somewhere near the dance floor, Luca Valentino was lying on the ground attempting to get a “cinematic” angle of the couple’s first dance while shouting things like, “Yes, passion!Yes, destiny!” at the two very embarrassed humans.
I stood near the entrance pretending I wasn’t running on sheer adrenaline and a dangerously low level of blood sugar.
Cleo zipped up beside me, cheeks flushed, hair frizzed in a way that said humidity and stress had formed a union. “Okay, band’s happy, cake is on standby, the kitchen is terrified but in a functioning way, and I just redirected a small child away from the swans. How are you doing?”
“Logistically or actually?” I asked.
“Don’t do that,” she groaned. “You know I can’t handle both.”
“Logistically, we’re good,” I said. “Actually…”
I let the word dissolve, because where exactly was I supposed to start?
The brooch. The affair. The secret love child?
Or the far more pressing issue that I had practicallydevouredNoah Langston last night like he was the last man left on earth?
Yeah. No. Not unpacking that.
Cleo nodded solemnly. “I nearly cried when the mains went out on time. Do you think that’s a sign I need more balance?”
