Page 32 of Sparks Fly

Another message popped up immediately.

Tiff: DID YOU KISS HER.

I hesitated before answering.

Me: No.

A second passed before her next text arrived.

Tiff: DID YOU WANT TO?!?!

I exhaled softly through my nose before replying.

Me: …Yes.

Me: So fucking much.

Three dots appeared and disappeared before her answer came through.

Tiff: Oh my god.

Warmth bloomed low in my chest as I leaned back in the driver’s seat.

Me: It wasn’t awkward. We just talked. Till one in the morning.

Me: It felt big.

Tiff: That’s huge.

I laughed quietly to myself before responding.

Me: I know.

I started me car, and headed to the office. It was time to start my day, and stop thinking about the welder.

* * *

By lunch my world had fractured into its usual pieces: clients, contracts, and bridal chaos.

The bridal group chat was already spiraling. Notifications stacked on top of each other until my phone buzzed like it was personally offended I hadn’t answered fast enough. I opened the thread while sitting at my desk with a salad container beside my laptop, multitasking.

Lilly: Brunch theme. Garden florals. Champagne tower. Pastels only.

Natalie: Signage and favors are ordered. Addison, did the bakery confirm?

I wiped my fingers on a napkin and typed quickly.

Me: Confirmed. Pick-up Saturday morning.

The messages kept coming: fonts and ribbons, whether blush read too pink in certain lighting, whether eucalyptus was overdone this season, opinions layered on opinions while exclamation points multiplied like they were contagious.

It was a lot.

Not because I didn’t care.

I mean, I did. Especially about Lilly. I loved her, truly. She had been there through breakups and bad years and every version of me I had tried on and quietly outgrown. She deserved a wedding that felt joyful instead of stressful, and I wanted to be the person who made that possible.

That part came easily.