“So… dinner next week?” I ask. “No fairy lights. No arch. Just you, me, and food that doesn’t come from a catering van.”
She pretends to think. “Hmm. I don’t know. I might be busy rebuilding my reputation and fielding new bookings.”
“I’ll bring coffee,” I offer.
She turns to me, eyes soft. “Okay. One condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me pick the dessert.”
“Deal.”
We don’t kiss... not here, not now. But as she walks back into the glow of her success, I know it’s coming.
And this time, she’s not running.
24
BBQ & PLANNING
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 22
Addison
I should be riding high. The wedding was a triumph, the storm is old news, and my inbox is quieter than it’s been in months. Meredith’s thank-you note is taped to my fridge beside a magnet shaped like a cupcake. Her handwriting is careful, still half-shaky from the emotion of it all: You made it magical. Thank you for coming back.
There’s a hummingbird charm in the gift basket too — a subtle, perfect nod to the arch Dylan finished building, then helped rebuild. I pulled it off. No. We pulled it off.
And still, I’m scrolling Twitter with one eye and refreshing my inbox with the other, like I’m waiting for the punchline.
It comes in the form of a text.
Simon Baxter. Naturally. I renamed his contact in my phone since his last text.
The village idiot / Simon.
Cute little wedding stunt. Very you. Just be careful. Clients won’t always forgive unprofessional entanglements — especially ones that go viral. You know how fast reputations can turn.
I stare at the screen. The audacity. The condescension practically drips through the font.
Six months ago, that message would have gutted me. Even last week, it might’ve sent me spiraling into a pit of apology drafts and self-doubt. But now? Now, I let out a laugh — sharp, surprised, but real.
It bubbles up and out of me, startling in its freedom. He still thinks he can shake me with a single line of passive-aggressive nonsense? That I’ll backpedal just because he used the word “entanglement”?
No, thank you.
I scroll to my inbox, tap open the glowing testimonial I received yesterday from Mr Langford’s office. It’s formal and brief, as expected, but the words still make me sit up straighter.
Ms. Bennett demonstrated outstanding professionalism under pressure and went above and beyond to ensure the success of our family’s event. Her composure, creativity, and leadership were indispensable.
I screenshot it, attach it to a reply.
Funny, Langford had a different take.
Then I mute the thread.
A year ago, my reaction to Simon might have been panic. Today, it’s punctuation. He’s a period at the end of a sentence I’ve already rewritten.
