“That’s not catastrophizing; that’s anxiety.”
“Same thing.” I moved her hand away from where she’d been twisting her engagement ring. “It’s going to work.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I keep meaning it.”
Lucas emerged from the back room where he’d been coordinating with the auction house staff. Baron Van Orr was with him, both men looking more relaxed and having more fun than I’d ever seen them.
“Sixty minutes to showtime,” Lucas said. “And we’re ready.”
Baron held up a glossy catalog that told the story of three families reuniting after seventy years. “The PR firm says there are far more international investors than they anticipated.”
“That’s good, right?” Saffron asked.
“That’s excellent.” Baron set the catalog on a nearby table. “The pre-auction buzz has been stronger than anything I’ve seen in twenty years of attending these events.”
“What if it’s all hype?” Saffron asked. “What if people show up, taste it, and decide it’s not worth the excitement?”
“Then, they’re idiots.” Lucas put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “But, Saffron, stop second-guessing yourself.” He motioned to where tasting tables had been set up. “Do the reactions over there look like the wine is anything less than extraordinary?”
When she returned to chewing her bottom lip, her father put his arm around her shoulders. “Believe in yourself, daughter.”
“Easier said than done,” I heard her mutter.
The next hour crawled. The auction house staff reviewed bidding procedures and payment processing while a wine journalist from a major publication arrived to photograph the bottles and interview Baron about his grandmother’s role in the original blend.
I stayed close to Saffron, one hand on the small of her back, grounding both of us while chaos swirled around us.
The energy in the room shifted as guests took their seats. This was real. This was happening.
I looked over and saw Ma sweep in with Tryst, Jaicon, my siblings, and their spouses. The only person noticeably missing tonight was Isabel Van Orr, not that we knew why she chose not to attend.
“Tonight is your night,mija,” my mother said, pulling Saffron into a hug. “Enjoy every second.”
“I’m trying not to throw up,” she admitted.
“That’s normal. I threw up before my wedding.” Ma patted her cheek. “You’ll be fine.”
I gathered my fiancée in my arms and kissed her.
“Stop being weird,” Kick said, bumping into me.
“Kissing my future bride is not weird.”
“Whatever,” he muttered before walking away.
Felicity and Wagner arrived with Diana. The sisters hugged and cried a little, then laughed at themselves for crying. Wagner kept checking his phone for updates from the babysitter watching Beatrice, and Felicity kept telling him to relax.
“She’s fine,” Saffron said. “Stop worrying.”
“Says the woman who’s been pacing for two hours,” Felicity shot back.
The stragglers at the tasting tables took their seats when the auctioneer announced he’d get started in five minutes.
“The balance is remarkable for such a young wine,” one collector said to his companion as they walked by.
“That aged component bridges everything,” someone else said.
