"That seems fair."
The next hour passes in a blur of photos, boutonniere adjustments, and Grayson's increasingly creative toasts he's not supposed to be giving.
Through it all, I keep catching glimpses of Sage—directing vendors, soothing nervous relatives, preventing Buttercup's escape attempts (she's learned to open door handles).
Finally, it's time.
We line up, groomsmen in formation, as the music starts.
The barn doors open to reveal the wedding party, and my breath catches.
Not at Karina, who looks radiant.
Not at the flower girls, who are indeed tiny tyrants.
But at Sage.
Standing to the side with her clipboard, watching her hard work come together.
The afternoon light halos her hair, and she's biting her lip in that way she does when she's concentrating, and I'm completely, utterly gone for her.
"Stop staring at your girlfriend," Grayson whispers."You're supposed to watch the bride."
“I am.Yes.Bride."
I manage to focus through the ceremony, mostly.
Callum’s Scottish royal ass tears up during the vows, Karina laughs when he fumbles the ring exchange, and someone definitely sniffles when they're pronounced husband and wife.
It might have been me.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiant announces, "I present Mr.and Mrs.Callum Abernathy!”
The recessional music starts, and we file out in pairs.I'm almost to the aisle when I spot Sage slipping out the side door, probably to handle some behind-the-scenes crisis.
"Cover for me," I tell Alex.
"Luke, you can't?—"
But I'm already moving, following auburn hair and the scent of lavender through the side exit.
I find her in the prep kitchen, arguing with the catering manager about appetizer timing.
"The cocktail hour is sixty minutes, not forty-five," she's saying."That means the crab cakes need to—Luke?What are you doing here?"
"Escaping."
"You can't escape,” she tosses towards me, taking off.“You're in the wedding party!"
I follow her through the staff corridor, past a server with a tray of untouched hors d’oeuvres and into the back hallway lined with mop sinks and locked storage.She’s trying to get to the reception tent to handle the cake situation.
I have…other plans.
"Sage."
"Luke, not now," she says, checking her phone and walking like she’s trying to outrun both chaos and me.
I catch her wrist, gently but firmly.“Five minutes.”
