That’s when I heard voices. Female, low, and unmistakably raw.
I froze before turning the corner, tucked just out of sight by one of the thick limestone pillars.
“I just—” Hallie Mae’s voice cracked. “I wish he were here. That’s all.”
Anna’s voice followed, softer, steadier. “I know you do.”
“I love Noah. I love him so much. But I keep thinking about how my dad would’ve walked me down the aisle. What he’d say. If he’d approve. And I feel like … like I’m betraying him by doing this without him.”
She took a shaky breath. “And I think the hormones are making it worse. Not that I’ve told anyone—not even my mom—but I’m pregnant.”
Anna let out a soft gasp. “Wait—Hallie Mae …”
“I’ve known for a little while,” she said quickly. “I wanted to focus on the wedding, not … everything else. But it’s like—I don’t know—I’m carrying this little piece of the future, and it makes missing my dad hurt even more.”
I swallowed hard, frozen just beyond the hedge, my breath caught in my chest.
I’d seen the note in Hallie Mae’s intake brief—Father, deceased. Close relationship.It had been a bullet point. One line in a long list of logistics. But hearing her voice crack around the words made it real in a way no bullet point ever could.
Grief wasn’t tidy. It didn’t follow timelines. And it sure as hell didn’t care how many zeroes were on the wedding budget—or how tightly a secret clung to a heart already bursting.
This wasn’t about florals or seating charts. It wasn’t about branding or building my portfolio. Not right now.
It was about a woman trying to step into her future while still aching for the past. A bride carrying both joy and sorrow down the same damn aisle.
I felt stupid for letting myself spiral over Silas. Foolish for reading too far into Monte’s lingering glances or my own bare skin beneath silk. This wasn’t a game. These weddings mattered. They weren’t just events—they were moments women wouldcarry for the rest of their lives. And Hallie Mae was about to say yes to forever without the man who raised her.
My chest ached.
There was the rustle of a tissue, maybe a hug. Then Anna again, gently: “He’d be proud. You’re marrying someone who protects you. Who sees you.”
Hallie Mae let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to cry in front of Noah. He’s got enough to worry about.”
“Then cry with me,” Anna said softly. “I’m here.”
There was a pause, tender and quiet. Then Hallie Mae managed a weak smile. “You’re a good friend.”
Anna’s laugh was gentle. “I try.”
That made Hallie Mae laugh—wet and grateful.
But me? I stood frozen.
I wasn’t supposed to hear it. Would’ve backed away if I’d had the strength.
There was something sacred about the moment—two women with their hearts cracked open, talking not about table linens or calligraphy, but about grief. Love. The absence of someone so essential.
And in that instant, I remembered why I did this.
Not for the perfect pictures. Not for the fat paychecks or brag-worthy venues.
It was this.
Helping people walk forward when everything inside them screamed to go back. Giving them beauty when the world had offered pain. Making something unforgettable out of days that might otherwise feel hollow.
I wiped at my eye with the back of my hand before any tears could fall, exhaled slow, then slipped away before they noticed me.
Back to the job.
