“Happy to help,” I said. It came out rougher than I meant.
His mouth curved, not quite smiling.
Before I could reply, he turned and walked back towards the light, his silhouette folding into the welcoming glow of the marquee.
I watched him go, heart thudding painfully.
His legacy was solid now. His history had been untangled, his place on the land secured, his guilt eased.
He had a future here that made sense again, one that included Sophie, honoured Edward’s wishes, and finally allowed him to look forward instead of back.
But as I stood there in the half-dark with the music drifting over the grass, I couldn’t help wondering:
Now that his world wasn’t crumbling beneath him…
Did he still want me?
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of the cool night air against my skin.
Then I straightened up, smoothed down my skirt, and walked back towards the celebration, back into the whirl of candles and dancing and carefully plated desserts.
I had a reception to run.
And absolutely no time, I told myself firmly, to think about Noah Langston. Or the inconvenient fact that somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Guests swayed on the dance floor, shoes abandoned under chairs, wine glasses exchanged freely between strangers who had become friends over the course of a long, emotional day.
The noise had relaxed into a steady hum, mixing with the distant notes of the band’s final set, and the occasional clatter from the catering tent as staff tried desperately to keep up with the dishes.
It was the moment in a wedding that always struck me as strangely tender. The hard parts were done. The vows had been spoken. The big emotions had been released, spilled, mopped up, and stitched back together. Now the air was thick with contentment. The kind that made even tired feet feel like they were walking on something softer than grass.
But there was still one final milestone to orchestrate.
The sparkler exit for the Bride and Groom.
I stepped towards the crowd. “All right, everyone,” I called, summoning my brightest and most authoritative wedding-planner voice. “It’s sparkler time! Please make your way outside. Slowly, carefully, and please don’t light anything just yet.”
The event staff would soon move down the line with long butane lighters, igniting each sparkler in neat, controlled rows. At weddings with couture gowns and seven-figure insurance policies, guests were definitely not trusted to light anything themselves.
Cleo shot past me with the frazzled determination of someone who’d fought three emotional fires and two actual ones. Her hair had given up entirely, curling towards the night in magical, chaotic wisps. “Someone’s already lit one,” she whispered furiously.
Outside, guests were already gathering along the designated pathway, chattering excitedly. A few older relatives still seemed baffled by the logistics despite repeated demonstrations. Three fire marshals hovered discreetly nearby, a requirement for events of this scale, though Margaret still eyed the sparklers as if one might leap sideways and ignite her Valentino.
I redirected her gently to a safer position.
Inside the marquee, I found Caroline just as she was accepting her fifth congratulatory hug in a row. The muted pearly lighting gave her gown a dreamlike iridescence. James stood nearby, his tie undone and the first two buttons of his shirt open, his face looking as if he’d just run a marathon made entirely of happiness.
“There you are,” Caroline said, her whole face brightening. “How is the exit looking?”
“Magical,” I said truthfully. “They’re all lined up and very excited. Luca has already secured the best vantage point for the photos.”
“It’s been such a perfect day,” she murmured, and there was something wistful in her voice that made my throat tighten. “Everything’s been more than I imagined.”
“You two made it that,” I replied gently.
James laughed and pulled her into his side. “Honestly, Holly, we don’t know how to thank you. You didn’t just organise our wedding, you carried us through this week.”
