Chapter 4

Dahlia

Sebastian’s voice cuts through my thoughts and the smile dies on my face.

I look up and he’s staring at me with an expression that makes every muscle in my body tense.

“No,” I say quickly.

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” He sets his phone down on the table. “You think this is funny? A major company crisis?”

“That’s not what I—”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice is low but sharp enough to cut. “This petty vindictive attitude. You can’t see past your own ego for five seconds.”

Heat floods my face. “I wasn’t—”

He stands up and I can see the annoyance simmering beneath his controlled exterior. “A crisis happens and instead of thinking about the company or the damage control we’ll need, you’re sitting there gloating because Arabella might look bad.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He’s already pulling out his phone. “This small-minded bullshit is exactly why you are where you are instead of where she is.”

The words land on me like a hot slap on my face.

Marisol is watching us with poorly concealed interest, her wine glass paused halfway to her lips.

Sebastian doesn’t even glance at her. His jaw is tight as he types something rapidly and then stops to look directly at me.

“Go to the office.”

I blink. “What?”

“You heard me. Go to the office and help fix this mess.”

“Sebastian, it’s almost nine o’clock—”

“I don’t care if it’s midnight.” His tone leaves zero room for argument. “This is also your project too. You know this wedding inside and out. So you’re going to go there and salvage whatever’s left before we end up in court.”

My hands ball into fists under the table. “This isn’t my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was. But you’re going to fix it anyway.” He’s already walking toward the door. “I’ll have the driver take you.”

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t answer, just walks out and leaves me sitting there with Marisol’s eyes boring into the side of my head.

“Well.” She dabs her napkin delicately at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose that’s the end of our lovely evening.”

I stand on shaking legs and reach for my purse.

“Dahlia.” Her voice stops me at the door. “Do try to actually be useful this time.”

I don’t trust myself to respond so I just leave.

***

The office is chaos when I arrive. People everywhere shouting into phones, legal huddled in corners, the conference room packed with frantic energy.

I find Jason at his desk surrounded by empty coffee cups.

“Shellfish stock was used in four of the seven courses.” He doesn’t look up from his screen. “Your allergy list? Arabella’s chef never even looked at it.”

My chest tightens. “How bad?”

“Eloise is stable but her family’s threatening to sue and pull the whole wedding. We need a completely new menu by tomorrow or we’re done.”

I work through the whole night.

The sun is coming up when I finally look away from my laptop. My eyes are burning and my back aches but we’ve managed to contact three backup caterers and sketch out a new menu that actually accounts for the dietary restrictions I’d documented months ago.

I’m gathering my things when Arabella walks through the office doors.

She’s wearing a completely different outfit from dinner and looks like she just came from a spa instead of an all-night crisis.

“Oh, you’re still here?” She stops and looks genuinely surprised to see me.

I’m painfully aware of my wrinkled dress from yesterday and the mascara probably smudged under my eyes. “Someone had to handle the mess disaster.”

“I know, it’s been such a nightmare.” She sighs and adjusts her designer bag on her shoulder. “I only got home a few hours ago myself. Sebastian sent me home around eleven to get some rest.”

The words take a second to sink in.

“He told you to leave?”

“Well, yes.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t actually stay all night, did you?”

“I stare at her fresh makeup and clean clothes.

“Well either way, you should definitely go home now.” She touches my arm lightly. “You look completely exhausted. Get some sleep, okay?”

She walks away toward the conference room and I’m left standing there with her words ringing in my head.

I grab my bag and walk out.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I consider calling a car service but then I see Sebastian’s driver pulling up to the curb.

He gets out when he sees me. “Mr. Hawthorne asked me to wait for you.”

Small mercy.

I slide into the back seat and close my eyes. My whole body aches but my mind won’t stop replaying Arabella’s words,

We’re pulling onto the main road when it hits me.

Today is our anniversary.

The realization makes my chest ache. Three years of marriage and I just spent the night cleaning up someone else’s mess while my husband was… where? I still don’t know where Sebastian went after dinner.

“Actually can we make a stop?” I lean forward. “There’s a bakery on Fifth Street.”

The bakery is just opening, the baker inside pulling trays from the ovens. She unlocks the door and smiles when she sees me even though I must look absolutely wrecked.

“Can I help you?”

“Do you have any chocolate raspberry cakes?“

“You’re in luck.” She disappears into the back and returns carrying a round cake covered in dark chocolate ganache. “This is from yesterday but it’s still perfect. Special occasion?”

“Anniversary.”

Her face lights up. “How wonderful! How many years?”

“Three.”

“Congratulations!” She sets the cake down and pulls out a piping bag. “Let me write something nice on it for you.”

She pipes “Happy Anniversary” across the top in elegant white script and I watch her hands move and think about our wedding three years ago. Back when I believed he might eventually love me the way I loved him.

What an idiot I was.

I pay for it and return to the car, the box balanced carefully on my lap.

Some pathetic part of me still wants to believe that maybe this year will be different.

I hold the box and stare out the window and hate myself a little bit more.

We’re about three exits from home when traffic suddenly grinds to a halt.

The driver mutters something under his breath and pumps the brakes. We slow to a crawl. Cars are backed up as far as I can see.

Then I see movement up ahead—a flash of pink darting between cars.

A little girl with pigtails running across the highway lanes like she’s playing in a park.

“Oh my god—” The driver sees her at the same time I do.

He swerves hard to the right to avoid her. The tires scream against asphalt.

The car behind us doesn’t have time to react.

The impact comes from the side—a violent crunch of metal that throws me against the door.

The seatbelt locks across my chest so hard I can’t breathe. The cake box flies out of my hands and slams into the dashboard.

My ears are ringing. I taste blood in my mouth.

The driver is slumped forward over the deflated airbag, groaning. “Are you okay? Miss, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’m not fine. My head is pounding and something warm is running down my temple. “The girl—did we hit her—”

“I don’t think so—I don’t know—”

I fumble with my seatbelt and push the door open. The world tilts when I stand but I force myself to move.

There are cars everywhere. A delivery truck has jackknifed across two lanes. A sedan is completely crushed between two vehicles. Smoke is rising from somewhere.

People are getting out of their cars, pulling out phones, shouting for help.

The little girl is sitting on the shoulder of the road, crying. Her knee is bleeding from where she scraped it on the hot asphalt.

I run to her on instinct.

“Hey, sweetie. It’s okay. You’re okay.” I crouch down next to her even though my ribs are screaming. “Where’s your mom?”

She just cries harder, pointing back toward the median where there’s a gap in the barrier.

“Okay. It’s okay. Let me look at your knee.”

The burn is bad but not terrible. I pull off my cardigan and press it gently against the wound.

She flinches but doesn’t pull away. I stay with her until a paramedic arrives and takes over.

“Is she yours?” he asks.

“No. She ran into the road. I don’t know where her parents”

“You should get checked out too.” He’s looking at my forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

I touch my temple and my fingers come away red. Huh. That’s a lot of blood.

“Sit down before you fall down.” He’s guiding me backward but my legs aren’t working right.

“I just need a second—”

The pavement rushes up to meet me and then everything goes black.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​