Updated Mar 13, 2026 • ~6 min read
The day of the society wedding is perfect.
Too perfect. The kind of perfect that makes me nervous because something always goes wrong.
But five hours in, everything is still running smoothly. The ceremony was flawless. The cocktail hour is going off without a hitch. The reception is about to start.
I’m in my element.
“Tessa!” The bride—Victoria Hamilton, daughter of a tech billionaire—rushes over in her $50,000 gown. “This is PERFECT. Everything is PERFECT.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy.”
“Happy? I’m ecstatic! You’re a miracle worker!”
She hugs me and disappears back into the crowd of 500 guests.
I exhale. Maybe nothing will go wrong today.
“You look stressed.”
I turn. Holden is standing there in his suit, holding two glasses of champagne.
“I’m not stressed. I’m vigilantly calm.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is today.”
He hands me a glass. “You’ve done an incredible job. This wedding is flawless.”
“Don’t say that. You’ll jinx it.”
“I’m serious. Look around.”
I do. The ballroom is transformed. Thousands of white roses. Crystal chandeliers. String lights creating a canopy of stars. The dance floor is packed. The food is exquisite. Every detail is exactly as Victoria wanted.
I did this.
“Okay,” I admit. “Maybe it’s going well.”
“It’s going perfectly. Because you’re brilliant.”
“Stop. I’m working.”
“So am I. I’m working on reminding my wife how amazing she is.”
He says it quietly. But the word “wife” still sends a thrill through me.
We’re in public. At my biggest event ever. And he just called me his wife.
“Holden—”
“No one heard. And even if they did, it’s not a secret anymore. Not really. Noah knows. My family knows. We’re just waiting to tell everyone else.”
“Soon,” I promise.
“Soon,” he echoes.
The band starts playing. The first dance. Victoria and her new husband glide onto the floor.
They look so happy. So in love.
“That’ll be us someday,” Holden murmurs.
“We’re already married.”
“I mean a real wedding. With dancing and champagne and your mom crying in the front row.”
“My mom will absolutely cry.”
“I might cry.”
“You?”
“I cried at the end of Marley & Me. I’m not ashamed.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me anyway.”
“Unfortunately.”
The reception continues. I coordinate the toasts, the cake cutting, the bouquet toss. Everything goes off without a single problem.
By 11 PM, I’m exhausted but triumphant.
Victoria finds me as guests are leaving. “Tessa, I can’t thank you enough. This was everything I dreamed of and more.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“No, really. You’re incredible at what you do. I’m going to recommend you to everyone I know.”
She hugs me again and leaves with her new husband.
I stand in the empty ballroom. Staff is cleaning up around me. The magic is fading, revealing the reality of dirty plates and wilting flowers.
But for a few hours, it was perfect.
“Ready to go home?”
Holden appears at my side. He’s loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves.
“Yeah. Let me just do a final check.”
“Tessa, you’ve checked everything three times. It’s done. You did it. Now let’s celebrate.”
“Celebrate how?”
He grins. “I may have smuggled out a bottle of champagne. And there’s a bridal suite upstairs that’s empty for the next hour.”
“Holden Reid, are you suggesting we break into the bridal suite?”
“I’m suggesting we use the bridal suite that you have a key to because you’re the event coordinator.”
He’s not wrong.
“Okay. One drink.”
The bridal suite is gorgeous. Plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a bathroom bigger than my old apartment.
Holden pops the champagne. We sit on the couch, shoes off, ties loosened.
“To you,” he says, raising his glass. “For pulling off the wedding of the year.”
“To us,” I counter. “For making it through the craziest month of our lives.”
We clink glasses and drink.
The champagne is expensive. Bubbly. Goes straight to my head.
Or maybe that’s just Holden’s hand on my thigh.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
“Always.”
“Watching you today—coordinating everything, handling every crisis, making Victoria’s dreams come true—I’ve never been more attracted to you.”
“Because I’m bossy and stressed?”
“Because you’re brilliant and capable and entirely in your element. It’s hot.”
I laugh. “You think me barking orders at caterers is hot?”
“Extremely.”
He leans in and kisses me. Soft at first. Then deeper.
I taste champagne and promises.
“We should go home,” I murmur against his lips.
“Or we could stay here. In this beautiful suite. That’s empty for the next—” He checks his watch. “—forty-eight minutes.”
“Holden—”
“I’m not suggesting anything scandalous. Just… enjoying the space. And the champagne. And you.”
He has a point.
I settle against him. His arm wraps around me.
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the city lights through the window.
“I’m proud of you,” Holden says quietly.
“For what?”
“For building this career. For being so good at what you do. For making people’s dreams come true, even when your own life was falling apart.”
My chest tightens. “My life isn’t falling apart.”
“It was. Three weeks ago. You woke up married to someone you thought you hated. Your whole world turned upside down. But you didn’t let it stop you. You kept working. Kept planning. Kept being amazing.”
“I had help.”
“You had me. But you didn’t need me. You’re perfectly capable on your own. That’s what makes you incredible.”
I turn to look at him. “Are you trying to make me cry in this beautiful bridal suite?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Mission accomplished.”
I kiss him. Pour all my gratitude and love and exhaustion into it.
When we finally break apart, we’re both smiling.
“Take me home,” I say.
“To our home?”
“To our home.”
We clean up our champagne glasses, straighten the couch cushions, and lock up the suite.
As we’re leaving, Holden stops in the doorway.
“One day,” he says, looking back at the empty bridal suite. “One day you’re going to use a room like this. For us.”
“Our wedding?”
“Our real wedding. With all our family and friends. And you in a dress you actually remember choosing. And me waiting at the end of the aisle, wondering how I got so lucky.”
“We’re already married, Holden.”
“I know. But we’re going to do it again. The right way. I promise.”
And looking at him in the doorway of someone else’s bridal suite, I believe him.
We’re going to have our own wedding someday.
A real one.
One that counts.
END OF CHAPTER 14
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