“This would make an excellent staging area for the bridal party,” Hudson was saying. “With a well-organized timeline, we can ensure everyone is ready exactly when needed.”
“Because nothing says ‘romantic wedding day’ like being treated like a new cadet in military training,” I muttered.
“Structure creates freedom. When everyone knows their role and timing, the day flows seamlessly,” Hudson replied.
“Or it becomes so rigid that there’s no room for genuine moments,” I countered. “Some of the most beautiful wedding photos I’ve seen were spontaneous. A father’s tears when he first sees his daughter, a private laugh between the couple.”
“Those moments can be scheduled.”
“You can’t schedule emotion,Mr. Gable,” I sneered his name.
“You can create the conditions for it.”
We were standing too close again, the professional façade slipping as our argument intensified.
“Let’s move on to the catering kitchen,” Penelope suggested.
“Excellent. I’ve already set up my presentation in the room outside there. We can stop on our way and check them out,” Hudson said, eyeing me over his shoulder. Of course he was already set up.
As we followed Penelope, I reached for my coffee, balancing my portfolio and tablet awkwardly. Hudson was directly in front of me, his presentation boards displayed on a table we were passing.
What happened next was an accident. Mostly.
My elbow caught the edge of the table, jostling my coffee cup. The lid popped off, and before I could catch it, dark liquid splashed across Hudson’s pristine presentation boards. Three of them were instantly soaked, the carefully printed text bleeding into illegibility.
“Oh my god!” I gasped, setting down my cup. “I’m so sorry!”
Hudson turned, his eyes widening. For a split second, his perfect composure cracked, revealing something furious underneath. Then, just as quickly, the mask slid back into place.
“No harm done,” he said, his voice so tight it might snap. “I have digital copies.”
“Let me help clean up,” I offered, reaching for the napkins Penelope was already rushing over with.
“That won’t be necessary,” Hudson said, easing the damaged boards away from the undamaged ones. “Accidents happen.”
But the way he emphasized “accidents” made it clear he didn’t believe it was one.
Manny cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should take a brief break? Lia and I have a call in fifteen minutes, anyway.”
“Excellent idea,” Lia agreed. “Hudson, Mari, why don’t you two... sort this out while we step away?”
They left with Penelope and Criss, leaving Hudson and me alone.
The moment the door closed, Hudson rounded on me. “That was deliberate.”
“It was an accident,” I insisted, though it was only about 70% true.
“Just like it was an accident when you knocked over the candle at the expo?”
“That was completely different!”
“Was it?” He stepped closer, invading my personal space. “You’re sabotaging me because you know your approach is inferior.”
“Inferior?” I sputtered, stepping forward instead of back. “My approach is innovative and personal. Yours is cold and mechanical.”
“My approach is reliable and professional. Yours is unpredictable.”
“At least mine has heart!”
