Chapter 3

Graham's POV

Natasha spotted me in the ballroom almost immediately. She rushed over, planting herself between me and the room.

"This wedding is Devon's first time running things solo," she said. "He's been preparing for months, so don't start anything."

I hadn't said a word. But in her eyes, just standing there was enough to make me a threat to Devon.

I pulled the floral handoff slip from my bag. Devon's signature was right there, clear as day. His face changed instantly, and he lunged to grab it out of my hands.

"Graham, whatever this is, can it wait until after the wedding?" Devon pleaded. "I know you're upset with me, but today's a client's big day."

The bride's father came over when he heard the commotion. "What's going on here?"

Devon dropped his head, voice trembling. "I'm sorry, I didn't handle this well. Mr. Dawes has been under a lot of stress lately. There was an issue with the original bouquet, but I already put together a replacement."

Just like that, every pair of eyes landed on me.

I looked at Natasha, but she just gently squeezed my wrist. "Just let them finish the wedding first."

I thought about how things used to be.

Whenever something went wrong, Natasha would stand beside me without hesitation. Back then, she had no proof of anything, but she believed me anyway.

Now she knew the full truth and was still telling me to back off.

The bride's father looked at me coldly. "Mr. Dawes, today is my daughter's wedding. Work problems don't belong here."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My own wedding was already ruined. I wasn't going to make another groom live with regrets too.

I sat on the couch outside the ballroom, completely numb. Through the half-open door, I watched Devon's supervisor lay into him, stone-faced. "Inventory was your job. The bouquet goes missing, and then the client gets up there and thanks you for saving the day?"

Devon looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

Natasha stood right beside him the whole time, jumping in to explain on his behalf.

After Devon's supervisor left and the hallway finally went quiet, Natasha turned and walked over to me.

"Are you happy now, Graham? Devon worked so hard getting everything ready. Are you seriously going to destroy all of it?"

I actually laughed. "Natasha, is Devon really that important to you? So important you can't even tell who's right and who's wrong anymore?"

Something shifted in her face, like she'd finally heard herself. She stiffened and took a step closer. "That's not what I meant. Everything happened so fast, and I panicked. I went too far."

It was the same pattern as every fight we'd ever had. She'd cut me down with something sharp first, then soften her voice and take it back, absolutely convinced that one apology was all it took for me to fold.

"Ms. Bishop, for anything work-related, contact my assistant," I said flatly. "As for anything personal, we're done here."

Natasha looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you done throwing a tantrum?"

Devon frowned from beside her. "Graham, this joke's gone a little too far, don't you think?"

Before the words were even out of his mouth, a commotion broke out inside the ballroom. The groom stormed out, his face white with fury, and hurled the bouquet at our feet.

"Didn't we make it clear? The bride's allergic to gardenias."

I looked down. There, scattered among the fallen petals, was a single gardenia.