It was almost unsettling if she let it be.
She sat, opened her laptop, and began the ritual of digital triage. Returning emails and checking messages.
She clicked, scanned, replied. Usually there was a bone-deep sense of catch-up panic after any big event, but this time? Her inbox contained some gold.
Vendor confirmation. Billing queries. The occasional caps locked: THANK YOU.
And one subject line that made her snort out loud.
You. Are. A. Goddess. In. A. Headset.
It was from the lighting guy.
Apparently, her firm-but-fair schedule reminders and her ability to fend off unsolicited "design corrections" had earned his worship.
Piper allowed herself a small, secret smile and stared at the subject line for a second too long.
Goddess in a headset.
Not terrible. She could even get used to it. Maybe start by embroidering it on a throw pillow?
She took a slow sip of her citrus water, leaned back, and considered what it might be like taking on another wedding or two if they were like this?
Nothing crazy, just a couple of the fun ones.
And then came the ping.
No, wait, several pings.
One notification. Then three more. Then her phone lit up like a Las Vegas marquee. Her group chat with the junior planners buzzed. Her screen erupted in snippets of madness:
CAKE LADY MAGGIE: omg did they really fight like that on the honeymoon??
Piper blinked. Clicked the first link sent with the texts. It took her straight to a gossip site blasted in a bolded red:
Trouble in Paradise? Exclusive Shots Show Stallions' Sweethearts Fighting Poolside
Her stomach dropped.
There, centered below the clickbait font, were photos of Anna and Drake on what was supposed to be their blissful, relaxing, non-chaotic honeymoon.
Except they weren't sipping mocktails or cuddling on lounge chairs. They were mid-argument by the pool.
Body language: tense.
Hands: gesturing.
Faces: not exactly adoring.
Even the tile by the pool looked familiar. Shiny, black-and-white, too perfect. Like the floor she'd stared at in the courtroom when her parents filed for divorce number two.
Her pulse skipped. She bit the inside of her cheek.
Not this again. Not again.
Piper's breath caught in her throat because it'd happened. She was the one constant. This was her.
Just like her parents' divorces, and the wedding where the groom was so cliché he had to sleep with the maid of honor, and the other time when the not-so-happy couple ended up annulling everything before the reception was even done.
