Chapter 30
Raffi
Raffi was not doing well when he pulled into ? in preparation for the wedding festivities. The place was surrounded by reporters and paparazzi again, and this time? This time Raffi was not feeling so charitable. He whipped out his phone and looked up the local police station number.
“I want to report trespassing on my property.”
This would have made him feel better, but instead the dull sense of fear in his stomach rose up and morphed into anger when he saw the cameras turned toward him as he approached. This was their fault.
“Which one of you is from the Daily Mail?” Raffi asked with a false smile.
There were murmurs in the crowd. They parted to reveal a tall, skinny male photographer, wearing a fedora. “You Basil Wentworth?” Raffi asked.
The name had been burned into Raffi’s mind, and he was itching for a fight. He felt his fingers twitch with anxious excitement.
“No, Mr. Garabedian.” Raffi flinched at how the reporter knew who he was. “Just the photographer.”
Goddamn it. Well, one less reason to be thrown in jail today, he supposed.
Raffi stepped forward and said in a low, dangerous voice, only vaguely aware of the cameras being raised around him and the photographer, “Well, do me a favor and tell Basil to go fuck himself.” Raffi punched a finger in the man’s chest as he emphasized those last words.
Then he turned on his heel and walked into his winery. He should have been feeling better, and maybe the anger had somewhat dissipated, but the anxiousness, slow and spreading, still remained.
He needed to see his girl. Was she still his?
Goddamn it, he should have waited until after the wedding to sleep with her.
He just couldn’t wait, could he? Now she was feeling insecure again after this news about the debt.
It was obviously a very big deal for her, and he wanted to be there to support her through it. If she would just let him.
An hour flew by as he threw himself into work, ensuring all the details Ani had left for him were exactly as she wanted them.
He would do his part, at least, to keep this wedding running smoothly.
One by one the vendors arrived, transforming the space from peaceful to opulent.
When flowers arrived as planned, they enveloped the space in showy, romantic beauty that almost sent a shiver through him.
They truly were a work of art. He breathed a sigh that that hurdle had passed.
In the next hour, police came by and negotiated with the photographers, reporters, and Raffi to get everyone to a happy medium.
Thankfully, Raffi had a map of his private property and was able to kick out the opportunists to the sidelines.
They landed on the edge of the highway just outside his property lines.
Their best shots now would be of Grace and Kami (and Ani) behind tinted windows.
He’d protected Ani from more photos, which wasn’t everything, but it was one small step.
Good luck, fellas, he thought as he strode back up the hill.
Shortly after, the limos arrived for Kami and Grace’s first look photos. And with them, he knew, would be Ani.
Raffi stood at the entrance of the winery, waiting to welcome everyone in, with the ulterior motive of keeping a lookout for Ani.
The brides—his ex and a now-major celebrity—exited, but he did not feel a thing until he saw Ani emerge.
Her mere presence filled him with a fizzing energy, but it was extinguished when he read the pain on her face.
How she would hardly meet his eye. Then panic rushed into his heart, and he had to go get a glass of water to keep from feeling faint.
When he returned, he watched Ani flutter about, straightening Kami’s veil, ushering bridesmaids here and there, and chatting with the photography team. She had set up the first look about thirty yards away from the winery, and Raffi couldn’t help but follow.
Ani stood behind a tree, out of the way of the photographers, watching Kami and Grace. Raffi stepped up to her, and she turned when she heard him approach.
“Hi,” she said sadly.
And with just that one word, Raffi felt the hope inside him crack—small at first, like the hairline fracture of glass, but spreading fast, threatening to shatter.
The fragile belief that whatever had been weighing on Ani, whatever had made her say she needed time to think, wasn’t about them. Wasn’t going to pull them apart.
And now, here she was, standing in front of him, her voice steeped in sadness, her eyes holding so much heaviness—and that hope felt dangerously close to slipping away.
But he wouldn’t let it.
Whatever was breaking, he’d mason it back together with whatever he had. Patience. Reassurance. Love.
He just had to figure out what, exactly, needed fixing.
He reached out and held her hand. She held it back, but there was a limpness to it. This contrasted so strongly with how she had rushed around ? right before this, getting everyone and everything lined up perfectly.
“I want you to know you’re rocking it. Today is going to be perfect because of you.”
She shrugged. “We’ll see. There are still hours to go, and so much could go wrong.”
“Well, if it does, it won’t be anything you overlooked, I know that.”
She smiled at him, somewhat more warmly now. “Thank you.”
Then the photographers climbed back up their way and Ani said, “Sorry, have to get ceremony-ready now.”
“Of course,” Raffi said, letting them all walk past, nodding to Grace and Kami, a small polite smile on his face.
Ani disappeared from sight into the depths of ?, and Raffi forced himself into motion.
Double-checking sound, lighting, catering—things he could control.
Because if he stopped moving, even for a second, the weight of uncertainty would settle too heavily on his chest. He needed some time to talk to Ani, really talk.
But when? Tomorrow, maybe. Or tonight—toward the end of the night, when the pressure had eased and the night belonged to the party instead of the planner.
When she could breathe. Then, he could finally ask her what was breaking inside her—and how he could help piece it back together. So, for now, Raffi continued to busy himself.
Soon, the guests arrived, filling the space and remarking on the otherworldly beauty of it all.
They seemed seriously impressed, and he loved that they were not just talking about his winery but about all the design work Ani had put into the grounds and the wedding details.
? had never looked so alive. Raffi was thankful for the wedding photographers snapping away, documenting all of Ani’s work.
His father appeared at the doors of the winery, and when Raffi gave Moushegh his arm, he was surprised his father actually took it and allowed him to usher him to a seat.
That was a step. His dad didn’t thank him, or say a word, but it was okay.
He wondered if it was what Ani had said to his dad that inspired this change.
The ceremony began, and Raffi, both guest and vendor, stood toward the back.
Ani had a headpiece she was whispering into, ushering bridesmaids down the aisle.
Then Grace and her parents, then Kami and her parents.
It was a nice touch, he thought, and he liked the idea of both parents walking their child down the aisle.
The two brides stood under the impressive dome, the lush Napa hills as a backdrop, with sunlight painting the scene perfectly.
Raffi couldn’t help but see Ani’s touches all over the ceremony.
The placement of the dome, the stones the guests’ chairs sat upon, the fountain—now fixed—gently bubbling behind them.
The chairs, flowers, vines, and flowing linens lending so much splendor and romance to the scene. Ani really knew her work.
The ceremony itself was equal parts touching and eye-rolling, as there was far too much talk of crystals and The Goddess for his personal taste—although to each their own, he had to admit—then Kami and Grace were pronounced married and had their first kiss as newlyweds.
There was a cocktail hour inside the winery while the event staff had to pull off a miracle in one hour to transform the garden from ceremony space to dining area.
His staff, along with the rentals staff, flew into action, taking down the ceremony site in under a minute while others rolled out the tables onto the grass.
Linens parachuted and landed on tables, followed by flatware, stemware, and more flowers, flowers everywhere.
Ani dashed about, ordering this and that in her unrushed yet presiding manner.
She was doing this; she was making the wedding of the year a reality.
Right on time, the space turned into a charming, luxe evening among the vineyards, flowers bursting from every corner. As the sun set, they invited the guests to their assigned seats to begin dinner.
From across the way, Raffi spotted an older Armenian couple tap Ani’s shoulder and say something to her.
Almost like a speech, they had a lot to say.
Their eyes seemed sympathetic, though, not angry.
But Ani’s face absolutely fell. Just for a moment.
Without realizing it, Raffi started walking in her direction, wanting to help.
Then Ani rearranged her features, gave what was pretty obviously a fake smile, replied, and dashed off into ?.
Damn it. She likely had to prepare the wedding party for their entrance.
Raffi didn’t want to interrupt that. But whatever had transpired, he wanted to assure her it would be okay.
That’s when he heard his name. “Raffi?”
He turned. It was a woman who looked…familiar. Pretty Armenian brunette, and seemingly pregnant. Hand running over her stomach, she said, “Wow, I haven’t seen you in years. It’s Nareh Bedrossian. Formerly of KTVA, now with Hye Media. You called me ‘Reporter Girl.’ ”