Then the photographers climbed back up their way and Ani said, “Sorry, have to get ceremony-ready now.”
“Of course,” Raffi said, letting them all walk past, nodding to Grace and Kami, a small polite smile on his face.
Ani disappeared from sight into the depths of Ô, and Raffi forced himself into motion. Double-checking sound, lighting, catering—things he could control. Because if he stopped moving, even for a second, the weight of uncertainty would settle too heavily on his chest. He needed some time to talk to Ani, really talk. But when? Tomorrow, maybe. Or tonight—toward the end of the night, when the pressure had eased and the night belonged to the party instead of the planner.
When she could breathe. Then, he could finally ask her what was breaking inside her—and how he could help piece it back together. So, for now, Raffi continued to busy himself.
Soon, the guests arrived, filling the space and remarking on the otherworldly beauty of it all. They seemed seriously impressed, and he loved that they were not just talking about his winery but about all the design work Ani had put into the grounds and the wedding details. Ô had never looked so alive. Raffi was thankful for the wedding photographers snapping away, documenting all of Ani’s work.
His father appeared at the doors of the winery, and when Raffi gave Moushegh his arm, he was surprised his father actually took it and allowed him to usher him to a seat. That was a step. His dad didn’t thank him, or say a word, but it was okay. He wondered if it was what Ani had said to his dad that inspired this change.
The ceremony began, and Raffi, both guest andvendor, stood toward the back. Ani had a headpiece she was whispering into, ushering bridesmaids down the aisle. Then Grace and her parents, then Kami and her parents. It was a nice touch, hethought, and he liked the idea of both parents walking their child down the aisle.
The two brides stood under the impressive dome, the lush Napa hills as a backdrop, with sunlight painting the scene perfectly. Raffi couldn’t help but see Ani’s touches all over the ceremony. The placement of the dome, the stones the guests’ chairs sat upon, the fountain—now fixed—gently bubbling behind them. The chairs, flowers, vines, and flowing linens lending so much splendor and romance to the scene. Ani really knew her work.
The ceremony itself was equal parts touching and eye-rolling, as there was far too much talk of crystals and The Goddess for his personal taste—although to each their own, he had to admit—then Kami and Grace were pronounced married and had their first kiss as newlyweds.
There was a cocktail hour inside the winery while the event staff had to pull off a miracle in one hour to transform the garden from ceremony space to dining area. His staff, along with the rentals staff, flew into action, taking down the ceremony site in under a minute while others rolled out the tables onto the grass. Linens parachuted and landed on tables, followed by flatware, stemware, and more flowers, flowers everywhere. Ani dashed about, ordering this and that in her unrushed yet presiding manner.
She was doing this; she was making the wedding of the year a reality.
Right on time, the space turned into a charming, luxe evening among the vineyards, flowers bursting from every corner. As the sun set, they invited the guests to their assigned seats to begin dinner.
From across the way, Raffi spotted an older Armenian couple tap Ani’s shoulder and say something to her. Almost like a speech, they had a lot to say. Their eyes seemed sympathetic, though, not angry. But Ani’s face absolutely fell. Just for a moment. Without realizing it, Raffi started walking in her direction, wanting to help. Then Ani rearranged her features, gave what was pretty obviously a fake smile, replied, and dashed off into Ô. Damn it. She likely had to prepare the wedding party for their entrance. Raffi didn’t want to interrupt that. But whatever had transpired, he wanted to assure her it would be okay.
That’s when he heard his name. “Raffi?”
He turned. It was a woman who looked…familiar. Pretty Armenian brunette, and seemingly pregnant. Hand running over her stomach, she said, “Wow, I haven’t seen you in years. It’s Nareh Bedrossian. Formerly of KTVA, now with Hye Media. You called me ‘Reporter Girl.’ ”
Then it dawned on him: He’d hit on this woman years ago at an Armenian event called Explore Armenia. Mortifying. He had not been his best self back then, to put it mildly.
He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if his smile looked more psycho than polite. “God, yeah, hi. I think I’ve seen your segments, the one on Armenian lacework in Berkeley? My grandmother used to love Armenian needlework. Great reporting.”
Nareh’s eyes widened, surprised he remembered it. “I loved that one.”
Another memory slammed into him. He’d cornered Nareh in a hallway outside a bathroom. Abathroom. And asked her out in a way that, in hindsight, was less charmingly confident and more…cringey-skeevy. His entire body seized withregret so intense he wanted to peel off his own skin. All the years that had passed, all the ways he’d worked to be better, and yet right now, under Nareh’s polite but penetrating gaze, he felt like that same oblivious idiot. He didn’t want to let his past actions stand between them, unspoken.
Raffi ran a hand through his hair nervously, then cursed himself for messing up his expertly gelled coif. “You know,” he said, gathering courage, “I am really sorry about how I acted back then. I’m so glad you turned me down. I was still figuring stuff out.”
Nareh appraised him with a somewhat confused smile. “Youhavechanged, haven’t you?” Then the confusion melted away into genuine kindness. “Well, I want you to know, it’s totally okay. I’ve long given up on the idea of obtaining perfection. We all mess up. As long as it’s not a pattern and we grow from it, it’s fine.”
“Good rules for living.”
A beat passed. He saw her catch the eye of a tall woman dressed in striking black lace, who waved in her direction. Nareh beamed, then turned her attention back to him.
“So, have you?” she asked.
“What?”
“Figured it out?”
Just then, Ani appeared by the door of the winery, speaking into her headset as the music quieted.
“I think so,” he said, staring at Ani. “I really hope so.”
There was dancing,eating, and now the toasts had begun. He’d had an idea after his conversation with Ani thismorning, and Kami had given him the green light, so Raffi was preparing himself.
He still hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Ani, who was so busy that he could only imagine how exhausted she was. He was dying to be with her but would not do anything to jeopardize her work when it was all so time-sensitive. He saw her across the way, chatting with the caterers, when it was his turn to make his way to the mic.
