At least, a girl could hope.

With a flurry of action, the bride and groom walked back up the aisle and out the doors, only to be swept away by the photographer. Guests were directed to the ballroom for drinks and to find their tables, and I flitted from the ballroom to the kitchen to my interns to the photographer and back again. Before I knew it, we were lining up for the processional’s entry into the reception.

It wasn’t until dinner had been served and cleared, the speeches had been made, the first dances said and done and the DJ rolling out his setlist that I had a moment to pause. I ate cold chicken in what felt like a long inhale, standing at a metal prep table in the back as the kitchen crew cleaned up. I hadn’t seen Kash since that moment before the ceremony, not a glimpse or a glimmer, and his uncommon absence worried me. In my anxiety, I imagined the worst. Maybe he was angry, my dishonesty still sitting sour in my chest. Maybe he’d gone home, left me here. Heaven knew he didn’t have to stay, but he always did, always had, and the thought that he was gone left a streak of concern in my chest.

I brushed it away, counting myself silly. Even if he had gone, he wouldn’t have left without a word, especially tonight, of all nights.

Through the event, Addison lurked, jumping in at intervals to micromanage or criticize me. There was nothing to be done except take it with a smile, the same one I wore while trying to ignore Brock, who eyeballed me from Natasha’s side. I couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t understand why he’d declare himself to me, then spend the whole night with her on his arm. The lowdown, dirty bastard. Coming on to me at his girlfriend’s sister’s wedding, no less. His girlfriend who I worked for. The one he’d cheated on me with.

It was too much to comprehend. Though I couldn’t pretend his honesty hadn’t struck me. I’d replayed the conversation, dissected it. He’d said this wasn’t what he’d signed up for, and I wondered what he’d thought it would be. The entire country could imagine what dating Natasha Felix would be like.

He was obtuse, but he wasn’t so dense to be shocked or surprised by her.

I was bone-tired, worn out from keeping the wall of false indifference up for this long. It was crumbling from exhaustion, bolstered by my will, sandbagged by determination.

A few more hours, I thought, shoveling the last bite of chicken into my mouth, following it with a swipe of my napkin as I chewed.