17. Sophie
SOPHIE
I t’s been a week since Graham left, but it still doesn’t feel real.
Every time I think about the last time I saw him, it plays like a bad dream—one of those cruel ones where you wake up sweating, heart racing, only to realize the nightmare isn’t over. Because of this? This is still happening.
I didn’t even get to process it properly. One minute, I was telling myself I was finally done with him, that I needed to put space between us, that whatever this was had to end.
Then he walked into the flower shop, and like always, he took up all the space. With his steady voice and quiet intensity, he came in, fixed my car, told me we had to talk, and looked at me in a way that made me feel like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.
And then that kiss.
My goodness, that kiss.
It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I let it because I wanted it.
For once, I stopped thinking. I stopped overanalyzing. I let myself have him, even if it was just for a moment.
And then?—
He left.
Just like that. No warning. No explanation. One phone call, and suddenly, everything changed. I should have been mad. I should have walked away before he had the chance. But I didn’t. I stood there, begging him to tell me what was wrong, watching him pack up his things like I didn’t even matter, like we didn’t even matter.
And now, a week later, I still don’t know what to do with any of it.
I should be over it by now. He left without a word, and I haven’t heard from him since. He obviously does not care about me. I should focus on Ethan and Riley’s wedding, my work, and anything else. Instead, I catch myself replaying it all in my head—the way his hands felt on my waist, the way he pulled me in like he’d been fighting himself for too long, the way it all unraveled in an instant.
And the worst part?
He never reached out. Not once.
No text. No call.
Nothing.
It’s like he disappeared. Like none of it ever even happened.
I hate that it hurts.
I hate that every time I walk into Mia’s flower shop, I half expect to see him standing by the counter, waiting for me with that unreadable expression.
I hate that I keep checking my phone like an idiot, hoping for something—some explanation, an apology, an excuse.
But mostly?
I hate that despite everything, despite knowing better, I still miss him.
I shove a clipboard under my arm, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder as I walk briskly across the wedding venue. The afternoon sun beats down on the open field, and the scent of fresh-cut grass and sawdust fills the air as the final framework for the gazebo is put up.
“No, Claire,” I say into the phone, dodging a stack of wooden crates near the catering setup. “We cannot change the entire reception layout five days before the event. The ballroom is booked, the centerpieces are ordered, and—no.” I stop near the floral tent, flipping through my notes. “You need to tell the client that last-minute changes like this aren’t possible unless they want to double their budget.”
I barely register her frustrated sigh before I hang up, already moving to my next task. One wedding at a time, Sophie.
The gazebo comes together beautifully, and its structure stands tall at the center of the outdoor venue. I wipe the sweat from my brow and step onto the wooden platform, running my fingers along the edges of the frame, mentally checking that everything is as it should be. The white lattice is in place, the fairy lights are still boxed up but ready to go, and the floral team is set to arrive in two hours to begin draping the soft pink peonies and greenery around the beams.
Perfect.
“Sophie!” Mia’s voice rings out from behind me. I turn to see her approaching, a water bottle in one hand and a clipboard in the other, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You need to take a break before you pass out.”
“I don’t have time for a break,” I huff, stepping down from the gazebo. “The florist team is late, the baker still hasn’t confirmed the final cake delivery time, and the rentals for the reception tables got mixed up with another event.”
Mia hands me the water anyway, crossing her arms. “And whose fault is that?”
I unscrew the cap, taking a quick sip before answering. “Some assistant who apparently can’t tell the difference between the Wilson Wedding and the Wilson Gala.” I rub my temple. “Two completely different events, Mia. But now Ethan and Riley’s guest tables are sitting in a ballroom fifty miles away.”
Mia snorts. “Sounds like a nightmare.”
I sigh. “It is.”
But it’s also a distraction.
And right now, I need as many distractions as possible.
I glance toward the gazebo again, catching sight of the carpenter double-checking the beams. For a second—just a second—my mind flashes to him. I was impressed by the way Graham moved when he worked, the quiet intensity, and the way he would notice every single detail before I even had to say a word.
I shake the thought away and turn back to Mia. “Did you confirm the floral delivery?”
“Yes,” she says slowly, eyeing me like she knows exactly what I’m doing—burying myself in work so I don’t have to feel anything else.
She’s not wrong.
“Good.” I nod, tucking my clipboard under my arm again. “Then I need to check on the guest chairs and make sure they’re being set up in the right formation.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “Of course you do.”
She doesn’t stop me as I march across the field, directing the workers to unload the chairs, adjusting the seating chart for the millionth time, and confirming the lighting placements for the evening reception.
I move nonstop, drowning in schedules and checklists, ensuring every detail of this wedding is coming together perfectly.
Because if I stop, even for a second, I’ll start thinking about Graham again.
And I can’t afford to do that.
Not now. Not ever.
I barely get five steps toward the seating arrangements before Mia catches up to me.
“Okay, stop.” She grabs my arm, forcing me to turn and face her. “You’re spiraling.”
“I am not spiraling,” I say, shaking her off as I scan the rows of guest chairs, counting them mentally. Eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight?—
“Oh, please.” Mia steps in front of me, blocking my view. “You’re throwing yourself into work like a woman possessed, which means only one thing.” She folds her arms. “This is about Graham.”
I freeze for a split second before scoffing. “This is about Ethan and Riley’s wedding.”
“No,” she counters, her gaze sharp. “This is about Graham leaving and you having no idea why.”
I press my lips together and turn away, striding toward the reception area, but Mia is right on my heels.
“Sophie.” Her voice softens, but there’s no mistaking the determination in it. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, scanning the catering schedule like it holds the secret to forgetting Graham Montgomery. “He left. End of story.”
Mia snorts. “End of story? You were miserable for days. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep checking your phone when you think no one’s looking.”
I grip the clipboard tighter. “I do that for work.”
“Right.” She drags the word out, unconvinced. “You haven’t heard from him at all?”
I shake my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “Not a word.”
Mia exhales, placing a hand on her hip. “That’s… weird, right?”
I don’t answer. Because if I do, I’ll have to admit that, yes, it’s weird. It isn’t kind. It makes no sense.
Graham wasn’t the kind of man to disappear. He wasn’t careless, and he didn’t play games.
So why did he leave without an explanation?
Why hasn’t he called?
Why does it feel like I’m the only one stuck in this unbearable limbo, replaying every second of the last time I saw him?
“I just don’t get it,” Mia continues when I say nothing. “He wasn’t the type to take off without a reason. Did something happen?”
I exhale, rubbing my fingers over my forehead. “I don’t know, Mia.”
And that’s the worst part.
I. Don’t. Know.
One minute, we were kissing in the flower shop, and the next, he was packing up his things, looking at me like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Then, just before he walked out the door, he turned back and said, I’m sorry. I wish things were different.
And then he was gone.
Like none of it ever happened. As if I was just another chapter he decided to close.
Mia watches me carefully. “You want to know what I think?”
I sigh. “Not really.”
“Well, too bad.” She steps closer. “I think you need to talk to him.”
I blink at her. “Oh, great idea. Let me call up the guy who vanished into thin air and ask him why he decided to break the world record for fastest emotional whiplash.”
“Sophie.”
“I’m serious,” I huff, folding my arms. “If he wanted to talk, he would have reached out. But he didn’t.”
Mia tilts her head. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to reach out first.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “You think I should chase after him?”
“No.” She narrows her eyes. “I think you should stop pretending you don’t care.”
That hits too close to home.
I inhale through my nose, willing the burning behind my eyes to disappear. “I’m not pretending.”
Mia gives me a long, knowing look.
I hold her gaze for as long as I can before I break away, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” Her voice softens again. “Sophie, you deserve answers.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Well, I’m not going to get them, am I?”
Silence.
Mia sighs, rubbing my arm. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to him, then don’t.” She pauses. “But don’t lie to yourself about how much this eats at you.”
I close my eyes for half a second, but when I open them again, I force a tight smile. “Thanks for the unsolicited therapy session, Mia, but I have a wedding to finish planning.”
She watches me carefully before shaking her head with a sad smile. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Push things down, pretend you’re fine, and keep moving.”
My stomach twists.
Before I can respond, she gives my arm one last squeeze and steps back. “Just… don’t let work be an excuse to avoid what you’re feeling.”
I exhale and turn away, my fingers tightening around my clipboard.
If only it were that simple.
T he anticipation buzzes in my chest as I scan the dining setup one last time. Everything is in place—twinkling fairy lights strung across the backyard, casting a warm glow over the elegantly set tables. Soft music hums from the speakers, and the smell of perfectly roasted chicken and freshly baked bread drifts through the air—a perfect surprise pre-wedding dinner.
I tug my dress into place, my heart pounding as I glance toward the entrance. Ethan and Riley have no idea we’ve planned this for them. The guests—close family and friends—are already here, whispering excitedly, waiting for the moment they walk in.
I shoot Mia a look, and she grins, bouncing slightly on her toes. “This is going to be so good.”
A beat later, the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway stills the entire table.
Mia claps her hands together. “Everyone, quiet!”
The moment the back door swings open, the entire table erupts in cheers.
“SURPRISE!”
Ethan and Riley freeze in the doorway, eyes wide, completely caught off guard. Behind them, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson stand just as stunned, though Ethan’s father quickly schools his expression, slipping into the composed demeanor I’m sure he’s perfected over the years.
Riley’s gasp is the first sound that breaks through the noise. “Oh my gosh.”
Ethan’s eyes scan the backyard—taking in the long wooden table set under glowing string lights, the soft floral centerpieces, the candles flickering against the crisp night air. The perfect pre-wedding dinner. His gaze finally locks onto mine, and for a moment, he stares, completely thrown.
“Sophie…” He shakes his head slightly like he’s still processing. “Did you?—?”
I smirk, crossing my arms. “Welcome home.”
For a moment, no one moves. Then Ethan lets out a short breath, running a hand over his jaw as a slow, genuine smile spreads across his face.
“You guys are insane,” he mutters.
Aunt Dotty lets out an exaggerated huff. “Boy, don’t just stand there gawking. Sit down before my knees give out watching you.”
Laughter ripples through the group as Ethan mutters something under his breath and guides Riley toward the table. Sam and Emma hug them as guests settle into their seats, the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation filling the space.
For the first time in a while, things feel light.
Well—almost.
Because even as everyone talks and laughter flows easily, I don’t miss the way Ethan subtly straightens when his father sits beside him. The history is still there, simmering beneath the surface.
Ethan’s dad clears his throat, his sharp gaze sweeping over the dinner setup. “This is quite the event.” He picks up his water glass, expression unreadable. “I assume this was your doing, Sophie?”
There’s something about the way he says it—polite but vaguely critical—that reminds me exactly why Ethan left New York in the first place.
I offer a practiced smile. “It was, dear uncle! I thought it’d be a nice way to celebrate before the wedding chaos kicks in.”
Mr. Wilson hums, clearly choosing his words. “I see.” He glances at Ethan. “It’s good to see you’ve… settled here.”
Ethan’s jaw tightens slightly. “I’ve been settled in for a while.”
I don’t miss the way he rephrases it—settled in, not settled , as though he’s chosen some life beneath what he deserves.
Ethan’s mom, ever the peacekeeper, places a hand on her husband’s arm before turning to Riley with a softer smile. “I must say, the trip was wonderful, but it’s nice to be back in Bardstown; it’s always so idyllic. I imagine you must be relieved to have the final stretch of wedding planning ahead.”
Riley smartly keeps her tone light. “It’s been exciting, but I can’t wait for the big day.”
Aunt Dotty, never one for formalities, leans forward with a knowing smirk. “Now, enough of this stiffness. Ethan, you look like you swallowed a lemon. Relax, boy! You’re home. And Riley, sweetheart, don’t let these city folks scare you. They can be a bit stiff, but deep down, they’re harmless.”
Ethan lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head, and for a moment, the tension breaks.
Conversation flows, food is passed around, drinks are poured, and the night settles into something warm and familiar.
Then—
Someone brings up Graham.
It happens so casually that it takes a second to register.
“Sophie, you’ve done an incredible job with the wedding plans,” Ethan’s mom says, beaming. “Honestly, I don’t know how you manage all of this.”
Mia, of course, seizes the opportunity. She nudges me playfully. “Yeah, Sophie. Let’s hear it.”
I roll my eyes but smile. “Well, I had help.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
Because immediately, the table zeroes in on that one word.
“Help?” Ethan repeats, raising an eyebrow. “From who?”
I hesitate, but there’s no way around it now. “Graham.”
And just like that, the air shifts.
A pause stretches too long before someone further down the table speaks up. “Speaking of Graham… where is he, anyway?”
A ripple effect follows.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen him all week.”
“Is he out of town or something?”
“Wait, no one knows?”
I grip my fork tighter, my stomach twisting as a murmur of confusion spreads through the guests.
Aunt Dotty raises an eyebrow. “Well, that’s odd. That man is always around.”
Ethan frowns, shifting slightly in his seat. “No one’s heard from him?”
Emma, bless her sweet soul, looks concerned. “I mean… I thought Sophie would’ve known.”
Every single pair of eyes lands on me.
I freeze.
Because what exactly am I supposed to say?