Dinner was loud and beautiful and nerve-wracking. Toasts from Harper’s dad and Rand’s grandfather made everyone cry. The prime rib came out on time, and though I didn’t take time to sit down and eat, I heard it was delicious. There was no evidence of cold feet, heated conversations, or drunken behavior. When the last guest left the room, I let out a huge sigh of relief.
And now the room was empty except for a few lingering staff members clearing plates and blowing out candles. The long tables sat bare again, stripped of their sparkle, waiting for tomorrow. My feet screamed for flats. My hair had given up hours ago. But we’d survived the welcome drinks, the rehearsal, the dinner—and the bride and groom were still madly in love. Nothing had caught fire. That counted as a win.
“I figured you’d be in a sleep-deprived coma by now,” Hayes said from the doorway.
He leaned a shoulder against the frame like he belonged there. With his sleeves rolled up and his tie tucked into his pocket, he looked pretty relaxed for someone who’d just spent the night herding groomsmen. A garment bag was slung over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. He looked warm, solid, and impossibly kissable.
“I will be,” I said, trying to tamp down the urge to bury myself against his chest and take comfort in a hug that might (hopefully) lead to more. “Once I make sure this place won’t implode overnight.”
His eyes swept the room. “Looks like it’s still standing.”
“For now,” I muttered, scribbling a note on my clipboard about resetting the tables first thing in the morning.
He stepped inside and draped the garment bag holding his tux over the back of a chair. Then he started helping without asking by stacking chairs and gathering all the last-minute centerpieces we’d created onto one table. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I didn’t.
“Things went well tonight,” he said. “Seemed like everyone was having a good time.”
“That’s the trick. Make it look easy. Hide the chaos behind the calm.” I glanced up and caught him watching me with a quiet, steady focus that made it hard to breathe. “Dinner went okay. No one threw up or proposed. I consider that a success.”
He chuckled. “That’s a high bar you’ve set.”
“Hey, don’t mock my bar.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He waited with me until I made sure the staff had broken down the room and saved what we needed for the next day. When we stepped out of the lodge, the cold hit like a frozen punch to the center of my chest.
The night had gone still like it did in the wintertime around these mountains, so quiet it felt like the snow might be listening. String lights draped from the eaves to the pines, cast warm circles of light on the snow-packed paths, and the air had shifted into something cold and sharp. Each breath cut into my lungs just enough to make me feel alive again. My body was vibrating from sixteen hours of running on caffeine and adrenaline, but my brain hadn’t gotten the memo that it could stop.
Next to me, Hayes put one foot in front of the other like the world was his. I envied him. He wasn’t being micromanaged by a checklist, and his voice wasn’t hoarse from barking timelines.
“How many disasters did you prevent today?” he asked after a minute. His hands curled up in his pockets, and his steps were steady and sure.
“Four,” I admitted. “Two late shuttles, one espresso machine rebellion, and Harper almost passed out during the rehearsal.”
He gave a low whistle. “And no one even noticed.”
“That’s the job,” I said, pulling my coat tighter around me. “Make it look seamless. Pretend nothing’s wrong until it isn’t.”
He shot me a sideways glance. “You’re running on fumes.”
“Fumes are underrated,” I muttered.
He didn’t argue. Which was worse, somehow.
We crunched down the walkway in silence for a while. Off by the lake, something groaned deep under the ice like the mountain itself was stretching in its sleep. The smell in the air had shifted to something crisper and sharper, with a faint heaviness that meant snow was coming. I tipped my face up toward the sky. The clouds had thickened into one dark, endless sheet.
“There’s a storm moving in,” Hayes said, like he could read my mind.
“Of course there is.” I didn’t mean for my tone to come out sounding defeated, but it was difficult to stay upbeat after everything that had happened over the past couple of days. “Because why wouldn’t the universe schedule a blizzard right on top of a luxury Christmas Eve wedding?”
His mouth curved up. “You’ll handle it.”
“You say that like it’s a foregone conclusion.”
“It is,” he said.
While I appreciated his confidence in me, I wished I felt the same. We reached the little plaza where the path forked off toward the cabins, and I stopped under the giant tree the resort had dressed up like a magazine cover. Warm-white lights spiraled to the top. Ornaments reflected the light, and someone had set a bench next to it with a plaid blanket folded just so. It should’ve looked cheesy, but at the moment it looked like a picture-perfect romantic winter fantasy.
