“The other guests are starting to arrive,” Katrina says, glowing with pink cheeks and all the joy in the world. Unfortunately for her, I know it won’t last.
Terrence keeps her close, though his gaze keeps wandering back to me for some reason. I recognize the hunger in his eyes, and it makes my stomach turn as I lean closer to Cole. I know my layered, champagne-beige dress is hugging my figure in all the right spots, but his focus should be exclusively on his bride.
“It’s a circus, anyway,” Toby mutters, watching the others walk out of the greenhouse, following the bride and groom.
“It’s their circus,” Cole reminds him. “Once today is over with, we can go back to business as usual.”
Asher shakes his head. “Only for a couple of weeks while those two are on their honeymoon. Terrence will come back and keep vying for his spot in Dad’s will.”
“I’ll be here to receive him,” Cole replies. A muscle ticks in his stubbled jaw.
My fingers itch to run along that stern edge before they get lost in the richness of his salt-and-pepper hair. My eyes meethis—wild spheres of blue and grey whose intensity I drown in, until William’s voice startles me with its warm, familiar rumble.
“Congratulations on a job well done, Willow,” he tells me. “Both of you, actually,” he continues and shakes Jamie’s hand. “It came out beautifully, and I saw the ballroom, too. It’s different from what I remember, but it’s wonderful. It made the kids happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “I’m glad you’re happy, as well.”
“I never liked the way it ended between you and Terrence, but I’m glad you landed on your feet and handled this event so honorably. I’m impressed.”
“Willow is a professional through and through,” Cole says.
William frowns slightly, his left hand balled into a fist.
Asher is the first to notice. “Are you okay, Dad?”
“Just tired. I think that’s it for me. I’ll get Ian to help me upstairs,” William replies, then motions for Ian. “You all go in there, though. Have fun. Eat the food. Drink the booze. I’m pretty sure it all came out of my pocket.”
Toby laughs, but I can still see the concern in his eyes. “You’re just miffed you can’t wrestle Uncle James over the eighteen-year-old scotch, old man.”
“You’re damn right,” William chuckles, letting Ian escort him out of the greenhouse.
I’m touched by his words. He’s a good man with good principles, and I know he raised his sons right, too. It’s obvious. The difference between the Morgan brothers and Terrence is immense. I genuinely feel sorry for Katrina. Asmuch as it hurt when it happened, I find myself feeling grateful for the way Terrence broke it off. He saved me.
And Cole, Asher, and Toby arrived to remind me that I’m worth so much more.
The reception is as boring as I knew it would be, judging by the guest list alone: rich folks from all over New York, dressed impeccably and armed with the standard talking points—the weather, the stock market, the Hamptons’ next golden couple, the Ivy League academic standards, that article inThe New Yorker, and a few good words here and there about the wedding itself. It’s stuffy.
I overhear bits and pieces, mostly praise over the décor and the menu. It’s nice and reaffirming, for sure, a testament to the quality of our work. What’s even nicer is that the Morgan brothers have barely left my side this whole time.
“You really did pull off one hell of an event,” Cole says.
“And on such short notice,” Asher adds.
“It helped that the couple’s family had so much cash to burn.” I laugh lightly. “Lots of last-minute orders just before Christmas tripled the budget.”
Jamie takes another sip of his champagne. “But we showed them, didn’t we? I already gave out half of my business cards tonight.”
“That’s great news, right?” Toby asks.
“It is. There’s a growing chance that we’re going to be packed with wedding events and engagement parties for the next year, maybe even the next two years, if they all come through,” I say.
“Provided they’re not all last-minute nightmares like this one,” Jamie mutters.
I clink his glass and give him a confident wink. “Sheila thought she could break us, but she failed. We’ll handle whatever comes our way.”
“I’m not surprised,” Cole says. His gaze follows Sheila across the room as she glides like a goddess in silver, drinking champagne and accepting congratulations. “It was your sink-or-swim moment, Willow, and you swam.”
“One thing that’s been bothering me for a while, though, is why she used her own son’s wedding for this? What was her endgame?”
