Harper peeked in from the side door. “It’s… it’s perfect,” she whispered, her eyes wet.
It almost was. Then the power went out. Not a flicker. Just gone. Gasps rippled through the seated guests. The music stopped, and the chandeliers went dark.
I froze, but Hayes didn’t.
“Everyone please stay seated,” he called out, his voice calm enough to cut through the collective panic. “Keep the aisle clear. Groomsmen, go to the ballroom across the hall and bring back the candles from each table. Now.”
They bolted.
I forced my lungs to thaw. “Ushers, please get some matches to light the candles. Musicians, keep playing.”
For some reason, everyone obeyed. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it was trying to fight its way out of my chest, but the glow came back in layers. The candle centerpieces came from the reception area. Someone brought in lanterns to set by the arch. The hotel event manager found two matching candelabras and put them behind the officiant so everyone could watch Harper and Rand exchange their vows.
Harper walked down the aisle by candlelight while the quartet played an instrumental version of Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years.” It was better than perfect. It was magic.
The room roared when they kissed. The ceremony blurred into hugs and applause and the giddy chaos of a cocktail hour while the crew flipped the space for the reception. I didn’t stop moving—redirecting trays, checking heat lamps, rerouting the DJ when the storm took out the internet. My headset buzzed like a nest of hornets.
Hayes slipped through it all like a shadow, somehow everywhere and nowhere. I caught him hauling a tray for the caterer, steadying the ice sculpture, and refilling votives. At one point I saw him slow-dancing with Harper’s eighty-year-old great-aunt while the band did a soundcheck, his big hands cradling her like she was made out of glass. She giggled. My stomach did something it wasn’t supposed to.
By the time Rand spun Harper onto the dance floor for their first dance under the chandeliers, the storm had decided not to give up and was hammering against the windows like it wanted into the party. Guests laughed louder, talked closer, champagne-fueled and glowing while snow clawed at the glass. The air smelled like vanilla cake and candle wax.
I stood at the edge, my smile glued in place, my eyes scanning nonstop—watching the servers, the band, the flicker of the generator lights. Everyone was celebrating while I was still braced for impact.
The song ended. Cheers erupted. Harper’s eyes sparkled brighter than the diamond on her ring finger. And for the first time all day, I let myself stop. Just for a second. I ducked into the catering corridor while the band launched into the next song. Leaning against the stainless prep table, I willed my pulse to slow from a gallop to a steady walk.
I’d done it.
“Sidney.” Hayes stood in the doorway, his tux jacket open and bow tie loose, snow still melting on his shoulders. His voice was quiet but loud enough to cut through the static in my head.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
“You’re shaking.”
“I can’t fall apart,” I whispered. “Not now.”
“You can,” he said, stepping closer. “Just not alone.”
That cracked something open that I hadn’t meant to let him see. My throat made a sound halfway to a sob. I pressed my hands to my eyes, hard, but it didn’t stop the blur behind them.
Then his hands were on my shoulders, warm and grounding, and I was leaning into him before I thought about it. “I can’t screw this up,” I mumbled into his shirt.
“You didn’t,” he said. “You saved it.”
“I froze.”
“For half a second. Then you took control.” His hand slid into my hair, his forehead tipping to touch mine. “You were incredible.”
Something in me snapped clean. I kissed him. Or maybe he kissed me. Either way, it was quick and fierce, like a match struck in the dark—hot and gone before it could burn anything down.
I pulled back first, my breath ragged. “I have to get back out there.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “You do.”
I walked away on shaky legs, my lips still tingling like I’d just stepped off the side of the mountain.
CHAPTER 9
HAYES
