Chapter 31 Savannah
SAVANNAH
An hour later, I'm standing in the main hall staring at my phone in complete confusion, reading Logan's text that just says "All sorted" like he's some kind of wedding wizard who waves his magic hammer and makes problems disappear.
And honestly? Looking around, I'm starting to think he might actually be a wizard.
The programs that didn't exist an hour ago are now stacked neatly on the guest reception table like they've been there all along. Beautiful, perfectly formatted programs that look way better than anything I could have cobbled together.
The musicians have somehow migrated from the ceremony space to exactly where they should be for cocktail hour. The photographer is setting up with professional efficiency. Even Malik Carter looks calm, which is perhaps the most shocking development of the day.
"Savannah!" Emma appears at my elbow, practically glowing with bridal happiness. "Did you see what the boys accomplished? Everything looks perfect!"
"How?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.
"Teamwork," Emma says with a grin that suggests she's been planning this intervention all along.
"Logan handled the programs, Xavier sorted out the photographer situation and coordinated new flowers, Griff charmed everyone into doing exactly what they were supposed to do.
It was like watching a very attractive SWAT team, except instead of hostage negotiations, they were handling wedding logistics. "
The realization hits me like a warm wave. While I was spiraling about all the things that could go wrong, they were quietly fixing them. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to. Because seeing me stressed was apparently unacceptable to them.
I find myself with nothing immediate to crisis-manage for the first time all day. It's an odd sensation, like waiting for a fire alarm that never comes.
By early afternoon, guests are arriving and being greeted with perfectly formatted programs. The photographer is capturing moments with artistic skill. Even the teenagers are actually being helpful instead of trying to turn Emma's reception into their personal underage drinking experiment.
Emma finds us near the windows, radiant and calm. "Thirty minutes until ceremony starts," she announces. "Everything's perfect. Savannah's smiling. Life is good."
That's when the lights flicker.
We all pause, looking up at the elegant chandelier that Xavier had fought to preserve. The fixture sways slightly, casting dancing shadows.
"That's probably nothing," Griff says, but his voice carries uncertainty.
The lights flicker again.
Then they die completely, plunging the venue into darkness so complete we might as well be in a cave.
"Well," I say to the sudden silence. "This is just absolutely fucking perfect."
Emergency lighting kicks in, casting everything in an eerie red glow that makes the elegant venue look like a scene from a horror movie. I hear the heating system give up on life with a mechanical death rattle.
My phone explodes with texts and calls as every person in the building apparently decides they need to inform me that yes, the power is out.
Through the massive windows, I can see that the snow has transformed from "picturesque winter wonderland" to "full-scale meteorological tantrum." The pine trees are now just ghostly shapes in what looks like the world's most aggressive snow globe.
Tyler Brooks materializes at my elbow, looking unusually serious. "Savannah," he says. "You need to see this."
He holds up his phone, and the screen is full of emergency alerts that make my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles. Winter storm warning. Blizzard conditions. Road closures. Power outages expected to last through the night.
"You're kidding me," I say, staring at the screen like it might suddenly change if I glare at it hard enough. "Please tell me this is some kind of elaborate prank."
"Jake's been monitoring the weather all morning," Tyler explains. "This came out of nowhere. Roads are already impassable, and they're saying anyone who's not already home should shelter in place until further notice."
I look around the room at fifty-plus wedding guests who are now trapped in a venue that's rapidly losing heat, with no way to get home and no backup plan. Because who plans for a surprise blizzard during a December wedding at a mountain ski resort?
Wait. Mountain ski resort. In December. During winter. How did I not plan for this?
Emma appears beside me, still gorgeous in her wedding dress but with worry starting to creep into her eyes. "Savannah?" she asks quietly. "What's happening?"
Before I can answer, the backup generator coughs, sputters, and dies with the finality of something that has completely given up on existence.
The emergency lighting flickers and dims to almost nothing.
In the dim glow of phone screens, I can see faces turning toward me with the kind of expectation that suggests they think I have magical powers to fix impossible situations.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I hear myself announce to the room, my voice carrying more confidence than I feel. "We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties. This is just a temporary setback, and I'm absolutely certain we'll have everything resolved shortly."
It's a complete lie, and everyone in the room knows it's a lie, but sometimes lies are what get you through the moment until you can figure out what the truth is supposed to be.
Griff appears at my side, his usual easy humor replaced by something more serious and competent. "Power's out for miles," he reports quietly. "Roads are closed in every direction. We're not going anywhere until this storm decides it's done throwing its tantrum."
"How long?" I ask, though I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
"Weather service is saying at least twelve hours. Maybe longer if the storm stalls over us."
I close my eyes and try to find some reserve of strength I haven't tapped yet.
When I open them, Xavier and Logan have joined our crisis management huddle, and all three of them are looking at me with expressions that somehow manage to be both concerned and completely confident that I'll figure out how to fix this.
"What do you need?" Xavier asks simply, and the straightforward question in the middle of all this chaos is exactly what I need to hear.
"Solutions," I say, my brain already spinning through possibilities. "Food, heat, sleeping arrangements for fifty-plus people, and a way to keep everyone from panicking and turning this into Lord of the Flies with better outfits."
"Food we can handle," Logan says, his construction manager's mind already working through logistics. "Catering brought enough for the reception plus extras, and there are emergency supplies in the basement. Heat's going to be trickier, but there are fireplaces in three of the rooms."
"I can coordinate sleeping arrangements," Griff adds. "There are guest rooms upstairs, and we can make the common areas work for everyone else with enough creativity."
"And I can handle crowd management," Xavier says. "Keep people informed, address concerns, make sure nobody does anything spectacularly stupid."
I look between the three of them, these alphas who stepped up without being asked, who are offering solutions instead of complaints, who are treating this disaster like a problem to be solved rather than a catastrophe to panic about.
Looking at them now, framed by the windows where the blizzard rages, surrounded by the venue they built and the wedding they saved from disaster, I realize something important.
Maybe some things are worth fighting for.
"Okay," I say, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders as I look at these three impossible men who keep showing up when I need them most. "Let's save Emma's wedding and keep everyone from freezing to death or descending into chaos. How hard could it be?"
The universe, apparently, takes that as a personal challenge.
So here I am again, Universe. You let the boys handle the morning crises perfectly, gave me one moment to breathe, then dropped a blizzard on us like a cosmic plot twist. But these three alphas just proved they can handle the impossible.
So bring it on. We're ready for whatever you throw at us next.
Thirty minutes into what's officially being called "The Great Christmas Eve Blizzard Incident," and I'm already questioning every life choice that led me to this moment.
I'm standing in the main hall of the venue we somehow built in a week, watching about fifty wedding guests slowly realize they're trapped in what's becoming a winter survival scenario.
Two hundred out of a planned thousand. Typical pack punctuality.
Emma had invited every pack within a three-state radius, and naturally, half of them decided to show up "fashionably late" right into the teeth of a blizzard.
The other three hundred just didn't bother showing up at all.
Because apparently RSVP'ing "yes" to a wedding doesn't actually mean you'll attend if there's the slightest inconvenience involved.
Unreliable bastards.
Logan's disappeared into the basement to assess heating options with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks manual labor can solve weather emergencies.
Xavier's organizing guest lists like this is a military operation rather than a wedding gone sideways.
And Savannah's somewhere being Savannah, probably trying to coordinate seventeen different disasters simultaneously while having what might be a controlled panic attack.
Which leaves me dealing with the immediate human chaos.
"Griffin!" Beverly Hartwell from the matchmaking committee waves me over with the urgency of someone flagging down a life raft. "We need to discuss sleeping arrangements. There are unmated individuals who might benefit from strategic room assignments during this crisis situation."