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“The photographer wants to do some candid shots of you looking at the displays. Is now a good time?”

No. Now was not a good time. Now was the time I needed to review my speech so I didn’t humiliate myself in front of hundreds of people and countless cameras.

“Give me ten minutes,” I said, trying to keep my voice pleasant.

“Of course.”

She walked away, and I turned back to my cards. Where was I? Right. Modern romance.

“Darcy!”

I looked up again. Maya from marketing was hurrying toward me, her heels clicking against the floor that had been polished to the point it looked like glass.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation with the gift bags. The custom tissue paper didn’t arrive, and the backup option is the wrong shade of blue. Do you want us to use it anyway or go without tissue paper entirely?”

I stared at her for a moment, trying to process why tissue paper required my personal attention.

“Use the backup,” I said. “No one’s going to notice the shade of blue.”

“Are you sure? It’s more of a teal than the navy we ordered⁠—”

“It’s fine, Maya. Just use it.”

She nodded and hurried off. I turned back to my speech.

“Each piece in this collection tells a story. A story of love that’s patient and kind, passionate and enduring.”

“Ms. Corwin, the string quartet wants to know if they should start with classical or contemporary pieces during the cocktail hour.”

I closed my eyes and counted to three. “Classical. We discussed this last week.”

“Right, yes, I just wanted to confirm.” The assistant scurried away. I gripped my index cards tighter and tried to find my place again.

The minutes ticked by. Every time I managed to string together more than two sentences, someone else appeared with another question. The caterer needed approval on the appetizer arrangement. A journalist wanted to know if she could get an exclusive quote before the official remarks. One of the display cases had a hairline crack in the glass no one could see but it was important enough to disturb me.

I handled each interruption as professionally as I could, but I felt myself fraying at the edges. My responses got shorter. My smiles got tighter. The pleasant tone I was trying to maintain started slipping. I was one interruption away from losing my shit.

I was reading through the third paragraph for the fifteenth time when I sensed someone approaching. I didn’t look up.

“Whatever it is, can it wait five minutes? I really need to get through this.”

“Hey.” Beau’s voice.

I looked up to find him standing there in a perfectly tailored blue suit, looking unfairly handsome and completely at ease. He held two cups of coffee, one of which he extended toward me.

“Thought you might need this,” he said.

For a split second, I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders. He was here. He brought me coffee.

But then someone called my name from across the room.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the coffee but immediately setting it aside. “I just really need to get through this speech one more time.”

“You’ve got this,” he said with that smile that always got me. “I’ve seen you in action. You’re going to be amazing.”

“I know, I just—” I glanced down at my cards, trying to find where I’d left off. “I need to make sure I have it memorized. I can’t rely on a teleprompter again. Not after last time.”

“Darcy.” He stepped closer, reaching for my hand. “Look at me for a second.”