Kate took her place at the front, and I watched as the movie-star handsome Best Man couldn’t seem to look away from her. I glanced at Connor to see if he noticed and he lifted a brow. Whatever was going on between them, he’d seen it too.
Beside me, Helen’s breath hitched as the Maid of Honor started down the aisle, so obviously her daughter, followed byGrace, turning the corner with a man at her side that looked like he could be her twin—same height, same coloring, even the same dimples. In fact, the more I stared, the more I realized maybe he probably was.
During the ceremony, Alex focused on Grace like they were the only two people in the world. But I found myself watching other things, like the way Connor’s hand twitched when the officiant said “for better or worse," and his breathing changed at “till death do us part.”
I’d assumed this would be easy for him, but something about this bothered him, and I couldn’t figure out what.
When Alex and Grace kissed and everyone applauded, Connor’s eyes found mine again. And in that brief moment before he looked away, I saw something raw there. Something that looked almost like grief.
As the newly married couple walked back down the aisle, the wedding party followed. Then he was gone, swept up in the recessional, and guests began standing, stretching, moving toward the cocktail hour.
“Would you like me to stay with you, dear?” Mrs. Clarke asked, gathering her things. “Connor will be tied up with photos for a bit.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Really.”
“All right.” She patted my hand. “And Hannah? Whatever Connor’s working through—be patient with him. He’s worth it.”
Hannah
Atcocktailhour,Iweaved through the crowd toward the bar almost automatically, drawn to the familiar rhythm of bottles and glasses, the comfortable choreography of bartenders working.
The space behind a bar had always felt safe. Even on the other side now, just watching the bartenders work quieted the nervous energy thrumming through me since I’d watched Connor stand at that altar, his careful control barely masking whatever was breaking underneath.
I grabbed a champagne from a passing server and lingered near a tall table, half-hidden.
That’s when I spotted Sebastian near the other end of the bar. When his eyes landed on me, something flickered across his face. Calculation. Opportunity.
He detached from his group, whispering something to a blonde woman in a tight red dress before heading towards me. I took a deliberate sip of champagne and straightened my spine. I could handle this.
“Hannah,” he said with a fake smile. His gaze swept the room, not seeing Connor. “What a surprise. Alone?”
The word landed exactly how he’d intended—a subtle dig.
“Connor’s with the wedding party. Photos.”
“Ah.” Sebastian said smoothly. “Still bartending?”
The condescension grit against my skin like sandpaper. “Yep.”
“Such a waste,” he said, shaking his head with false concern. “All that education, that Callihan & Murphy experience. But I suppose not everyone’s cut out for the pressure.”
My fingers tightened on my champagne glass. “Or maybe not everyone wants to compromise their ethics for a corner office.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you tell yourself? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you couldn’t hack it and—”
“Excuse me,” I said, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I need to find the restroom.”
Although Connor originally extended this invitation so I could show Sebastian that I'd moved on, as I looked at his shocked face that I'd cut him off, I realized that I hadn't cared about that for a while. I’d been more excited about seeing Connor again. In fact until I saw him, I barely remembered he’d be here.
Sebastian wasn't my date or my colleague—just a part of my past that I didn't want to revisit. I didn’t owe him closure, or explanations, or even politeness. So I walked away before he could respond.
Theladies’loungewastucked down a hallway off the main ballroom—all marble and soft lighting, with a sitting area of upholstered chairs outside the actual bathrooms. I found anempty stall and sat down, was just finishing up when the outer door squeaked open and I heard Victoria’s voice, low and tense.
“Dad, I’ve already told you: I'm not hiring Walter Reynolds.”
I froze. She was in the lounge area, pacing, and I was trapped now—I’d have to either stay in the stall until she was done or walk past her to get out.
“I don’t care that he ran McKinsey’s finance division for twenty years. He called me ‘sweetheart’ in the preliminary interview.Sweetheart.Treating me like a buxom secretary bringing him coffee instead of his potential boss.”
