And then the two of them started to move. Lily plucked cracked sugar snowflakes off the sides and patched the cracks with frosting from a bag she pulled from her pocket. Sidney tucked sprigs of evergreen and clusters of sugared cranberries around the edges until it looked intentional. A server brought a strand of fairy lights from a tree in the lounge, and Sidney wove them around the base like she’d planned it that way all along.
Twenty minutes later, the wrecked cake had been revived, reimagined, and redesigned. Lily headed toward the kitchen to make sure no one threw away the boxes. Sidney stepped back, her eyes still checking for mistakes, and sugar streaked across her knuckles. “It’ll survive.”
“It looks a hell of a lot better than it did,” I said.
Her laugh came out shaky. “Don’t tell Lily that.”
“I won’t tell anyone anything.”
She looked at me then, and the tension in her eyes cracked, just for a second, letting something raw and bright show through. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I said, awed by the lengths she’d go to for someone else’s happiness. Watching her pour herself out for everyone else made me want to be the one who could give her the same attention. She deserved more than stress and sleepless nights, more than carrying everyone’s happiness like it was her job to keep the whole damn world smiling. She deserved more than she ever asked for, and I wasn’t sure what to do about how much I wanted to be the one to give it to her.
CHAPTER 8
SIDNEY
With the cakesecured and the wedding only a few hours away, I forced myself to get back on track. The ballroom looked like the aftermath of a hurricane with half-built tables, a bare arch frame, and towers of boxes lining the perimeter. The space that had been a candlelit cathedral for the rehearsal dinner last night had been torn back down to nothing, ready for me to build it all again from bones.
“Where are we on chairs?” I said into my headset as my boots squeaked on the polished floor.
The event manager responded. “Half set, linens are next.”
“Skip the linens until the florals are placed. They’ll shred the garlands if they’re set before.”
“Yes, boss.”
I rolled my shoulders back like armor clicking into place. If I thought about how much was riding on today, like my reputation, my business, and my entire future, I’d lock up or break down. So I didn’t. I focused on the next task, and the one after that.
The hours blurred, one into the next, while I coaxed roses open, set out place cards, and unfurled garlands down the center of tables. My headset buzzed every ninety seconds. The bandarrived, the ice sculpture showed up cracked, and the power flickered once in the east wing, making my stomach drop to my knees.
The hotel manager stopped by to tell me they had a few generators primed and ready just in case. It didn’t make me feel better.
Hayes worked silent and steady at the edges. I caught him hauling boxes, setting out chargers, and untangling fairy lights with the concentration of a man used to defusing bombs. Twice, I told him to go put on his tux. He ignored me both times.
At one point he caught me by the wrist as I passed by. “You need to eat something.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t take the time,” he said, and left a plate of cheese and crackers on a crate next to me.
By four, the room was stunning. The arch soared over the riser, dripping with velvet ribbon and white roses. A cluster of gold lanterns glowed at the base. The tables were dressed and gleaming. Candles lined the windows and illuminated the snow that had piled up outside.
I stood in the center, clutching my clipboard, trying to make my pulse slow. This was the point where I should’ve felt proud. Instead, it felt like standing on a frozen lake and hearing the first hairline crack.
“Go change,” Hayes said from behind me. “Before the guests show.”
“I don’t have time.”
“You’ll make time,” he said. “Or I’ll drag you.”
I went.
In the staff lounge, I pulled on wide-leg black pants and a cream silk blouse that would let me blend in and go unnoticed. My hands shook while I twisted up my hair, and I smudged mylipstick twice. When I came back down the service stairs, the power flickered long enough to make everyone stop breathing.
It held. For now.
The guests who weren’t staying at the lodge started arriving just before five. By then, the snow had softened to slow, fat flakes drifting past the windows, blurring the view of the mountains beyond. Inside, the smaller ballroom where the ceremony would be held glowed. Chandeliers had been dimmed to a honeyed shimmer, and the soft light spilled across velvet runners the color of fresh cream. The gold Chiavari chairs lined the aisle in perfect symmetry. The arch at the far end bloomed with white roses, each petal luminous. The entire room looked like it had been dipped in champagne and spun around in sugar.
