“Surviving?” he murmurs.
“Barely. My feet are staging a revolt.”
He smirks. “I’ll carry you later.”
“Promises, promises.”
Scarlett steps forward and clears her throat. Her planner voice snaps into place—calm, crisp, impossible to ignore.
“Alright, everyone. Just a quick lay of the land. Bridesmaids, you’ll be lining up here along the path. Groomsmen, you’ll be just behind them. Musicians will be set up to theright of the arch—”
“Scarlett, darling? A small adjustment.” Natalie’s mother interrupts.
Scarlett’s smile doesn’t waver, but her knuckles whiten on the tablet. “Of course, Mrs. Ashford. What can I do?”
“The seating for the Vanderbilts and the Steinmetzes. Simply unacceptable to have them so far back. They’re major donors to the Ashford Foundation. They need to be moved. Front row, left side. Next to us.”
Scarlett takes a breath, “Mrs. Ashford, I understand the importance. However, rearranging seating assignments at this stage, especially for the front rows, presents significant challenges. We’d need to reprint all escort cards, reposition place settings, notify security for the revised VIP seating chart, and likely reassign several other guests to avoid offense. It’s… quite complex with only three days until—”
“Oh, nonsense!” Blake booms, cutting her off. He takes a hearty swig from his glass. “It’s just shuffling a few chairs, Scarlett. Easy peasy. Do it.” He beams at Natalie’s mother. “Anything for family, right? Consider it done, Deborah.”
Scarlett goes utterly still.
For a heartbeat, the air tightens. The color drains from her face, then resurfaces in two controlled spots high on her cheeks. Her gaze locks on Blake—not heated, not emotional. Cold. Measuring.
Blake doesn’t notice. He’s too busy basking in Deborah Ashford’s pleased smile, playing the decisive groom.
Scarlett inhales once. Slowly.
“Of course,” she says, voice perfectly even. “Front row, left side. We’ll make the adjustment.”
She doesn’t look at Blake again.
Instead, she pivots back to the group, already issuing instructions.
The machine keeps moving like nothing happened.
Later, fetching a stray pashmina Barbie left near the arch, I cut behind the tall hedge screening the service path.
I slow downwhen I hear familiar voices.
Low. Furious.
Blake and Scarlett.
“You humiliated me,” Scarlett says, her voice stripped of its usual polish. It’s quiet, lethal. “You undercut me in front of everyone. You agreed to something you don’t understand and dumped it on me like it was nothing.”
“Don’t be dramatic, babe.” Blake mutters. His words slur slightly. He’s definitely been back at the open bar. “It was a simple request. You’re amazing at this stuff.”
There’s a pause. I reach for my phone and start recording.
“You didn’t need to jump in like that,” Scarlett says. Her voice is tight. “I had it handled. I’m already buried in wedding logistics…yourwedding, and now this!”
Blake scoffs softly. “Relax. I was smoothing things over.”
“You were showing off,” she replies. Flat. Accurate. “For them.”
There’s a pause.
