Relief broke out in laughter and applause.
The groom stared at the rings like they were a miracle. “I forgot I gave them to you,” he said weakly.
Dad smiled gently. “You did.”
The bride laughed, shaking her head. “This is why I love you,” she told the groom. “You are consistent.”
“I am consistently terrified,” the groom whispered.
“That too,” she agreed.
The rehearsal ended with the officiant satisfied and the wedding party looking equal parts relieved and exhausted. People drifted back to their seats, voices rising again, tension replaced by that softer post-rehearsal glow where everyone felt like they had survived something together.
My gaze moved over the room. Dad was talking with a groomsman while Mom was laughing with the bride. Lydia was gesturing animatedly as she told a story to people who were clearly enjoying her. Lucy leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, as she and Dex chatted together.
Braxton found his way back to me near the window.
“This,” he said quietly, “is the most relaxed I have felt at a formal dinner in my life.”
I smiled. “You fit in here.”
He met my gaze. “So do you.”
Outside, snow fell softly, the inn glowing behind us. Inside, laughter rose and fell, the sound of people fed and content.
For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I was holding everything together by myself.
Braxton stood beside me, steady and present, and the thought settled in my mind like something I had been waiting for without knowing it.
Chapter Nineteen: The Quiet After
Braxton
Jane moved easily through the room, checking in with guests, smiling when spoken to, nodding when thanked. She looked tired, but also satisfied with how the day had turned out.
I had been to dinners like this my entire life. Formal ones, controlled ones, with rooms where people watched themselves as closely as they watched each other. Where conversation stayed within safe boundaries and laughter arrived on cue.
This room didn't have that polished tension. It had warmth, laughter, and people talked over one another. Lydia gestured broadly as she told a story that wandered in three directions and still somehow landed. Helen dabbed at her eyes without trying to hide it. The groom had his arm around his bride and smiled with the unmistakable expression of a man who had made it through something stressful and survived.
Behind us, guests continued to drift toward the lounge or up the stairs. Kitty hovered nearby with her clipboard, no longer pacing but not quite ready to let it go. Lucy chatted with Dex in the doorway. He reached out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she smiled at him. William stood near the Christmas tree, arms crossed, watching everything with the satisfied lookof someone who had expected the worst and been pleasantly surprised.
Jane caught my eye from across the room and smiled.
I smiled back, liking the way we could openly show affection now.
Jane rubbed the back of her neck, a small gesture I had started noticing earlier in the week. It happened when the adrenaline faded and her body remembered it was tired. I quickly approached her. “Do you want to step outside? Get some air.”
Jane hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Yes.”
Grabbing our coats, we left through the side door together. The cold hit immediately, sharp and clean, and the quiet outside made the sounds from inside feel distant rather than gone. Snow fell steadily, collecting on the ground and along the railing. The windows behind us glowed with light.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I put my hands in my coat pockets and took a slow breath. My pulse was still elevated, not from stress, but from awareness. From the fact that I was outside with Jane and no one was pulling her away for a list or a task or an emergency.
“That went better than I expected,” Jane murmured, nodding back toward the building.
“It did,” I agreed. “No one cried. No emergencies.”
