Noah set the receipt back onto the desk. “I’ll call the florist,” he said. “Ask if they’ve had any antique-shop detours lately.”
“Don’t,” I said too quickly. “Not yet. If it’s nothing, I’d rather not start rumours amongst the suppliers.”
He tilted his head, considering. “And if it’s something?”
“Then I’d rather hear it from Evelyn herself.”
Cleo looked between Noah and me, then back at the seating chart spread across the desk, already reclaiming her role like slipping on armour. “Go,” she said. “If anyone asks, you’re bothdealing with… something important and vague. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Try not to reorganise the entire wedding while I’m gone,” I said.
“No promises,” she replied, already reaching for her clipboard.
Outside, the late afternoon light had softened, spilling gold across the gravel as Noah and I crossed towards the car.
Noah’s 4WD rumbled onto the road, the vineyard falling away behind us in long, sunlit rows. For a while, we just drove in silence.
“So,” Noah said eventually, “is your office always like that? Everything lined up. Labels. Clipboards. Colour coding. It’s… impressive.”
I snorted. “That’s one word for it.”
“What’s the other word?”
“Concerning.”
He seemed amused. “You don’t seem concerned.”
“That’s because it’s my job. I’m organised at work because I have to be. If I’m not, someone ends up walking down the aisle to the wrong song or the cake gets delivered to the wrong wedding.”
“That… actually sounds like a nightmare.”
“It is. Hence the clipboards.”
He nodded like that made perfect sense. “So you’re one of those people who has everything together.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I said quickly. “Don’t tell anyone, but at home I’m a disaster.”
He raised a brow. “A disaster?”
“Utter. My laundry lives on a chair. My fridge contains three condiments and a questionable yoghurt. I once lost my own car keys for two weeks.”
He let out a surprised laugh at that, “You? Miss Spreadsheet?”
“See? Everyone assumes I’m put together. But the truth is, I use up all my organisation at work. By the time I get home, I’m done. I have nothing left to give.”
“That’s… kind of reassuring.”
“Reassuring?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Makes you human.”
I smiled at the window. “Wow. High praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, I won’t,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll be back to grumbling any minute.”
“I don’t grumble.”
