It was unexpectedly lovely.
Molly let out a soft breath. “She looks like she belongs in a magazine.”
Erin whispered, “She looks happy.”
The groom stood near the doorway, slightly apart, holding his gloves like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He looked nervous, but when the bride turned toward him and smiled, his face changed. His shoulders dropped. His expression softened.
That was the magic, I realized. Not the dress. Not the flowers. The way someone’s face changed when they saw the person they were choosing.
My chest tightened again, sharper this time.
I thought of Braxton. Of theway his gaze had softened when he looked at me. The way he had held my hand in the library. How I had believed, for a few days, that I had been chosen.
Then the bride’s mother called out for everyone to line up, and the room shifted into motion. The bridesmaids moved into place, laughter softening into nervous excitement. Someone adjusted the veil. The bride took a deep breath.
Molly touched my arm lightly. “We should go.”
“Yes,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “We need to be ready.”
We slipped back into the kitchen just as the first notes of music began in the hall. The ceremony was starting.
“All right,” I said. “We have work. The first course goes out right after the ceremony ends. Timing is everything.”
They nodded, expressions shifting back into focus.
The ceremony continued in the distance. My hands kept moving. I plated. I checked. I adjusted. I called out small instructions. Every time the music swelled, something in me flinched, because it felt like it was marking a moment I wouldn’t get to have.
The ceremony ended with a burst of applause. Someone cheered. The sound rolled down the hall like warmth.
“Okay,” I said, already moving. “Plates warmed. Appetizers staged. Erin, you are on sauce. Molly, you are on garnish. I will run the pass.”
“Yes,” they replied together.
The hired servers lined up, ready to take plates out. Lucy, Meri, and Lydia helped them, making sure everything was done properly.
The first course went out smoothly. Plates returned empty. Compliments filtered back through Lucy and Lydia, who repeated them with increasing enthusiasm.
“It’s delicious,” Lydia said breathlessly, popping into the kitchen like she had been shot from a cannon. “Jane, people are obsessed. They are literally obsessed. I wish I could film them saying compliments.”
“Good,” I said, because that was the only answer I could give that would not open the door to emotion.
When the main course was served, the inn shifted into that warm, glowing quality it always had when things were going well. I stepped to the edge of the kitchen doorway to peek into the dining room for one quick look, unseen. Candles flickered on tables as laughter rose and fell while people enjoyed theirmeals and speeches from the wedding party.
Everything seemed to be going perfectly.
By the time dessert began, the tension in my shoulders had become a familiar ache. Molly and Erin moved with increasingconfidence, plating with speed and care. I trusted them. They were good.
I washed my hands and stood at the sink longer than necessary, letting warm water run over my fingers.
I hadn’t cried. I hadn’t raised my voice. I hadn’t let anyone see the way my chest felt tight when I thought of Braxton’s silence.
Instead, a dull clarity settled in. We were finished before we even really started.
I straightened my shoulders and returned to work, letting competence carry me when hope could not.
Whatever else I lost, I would not lose myself. Not again.
Whatever else happened, the food still needed to go out. People still needed to be fed. The inn still needed to hold together through one more night.
