Page 65 of Sparks Fly

I walked through the double doors toward the ballroom and felt the familiar shift happen in my body. Shoulders back. Smile ready. Voice warm. Performance mode.

I arrived early with Natalie, clipboard in hand, helping finalize welcome signs and place cards, double-checking the mimosa bar like it was life or death. Natalie was cheerful and caffeinated, buzzing around in a pink lace dress and humming to herself while we arranged candles in glass hurricanes.

“Do you think the roses look okay?” she asked, leaning over the centerpieces.

“They look perfect,” I said.

She gave me a suspicious look. “You didn’t even look.”

I glanced down and nodded. “They’re symmetrical. Lilly will love them.”

Natalie laughed. “You’re scary good at this.”

Years of practice. Years of knowing exactly how everything was supposed to look.

I checked the time on my phone and instinctively went to open my texts, then stopped. What was I going to say?

Wish you were here while I dissociate under a canopy of roses and generational wealth?

I exhaled and slid my phone back into my clutch.

Guests trickled in with air kisses and squeals, high heels clicking on marble, women with blowouts and carefully understated perfume.

I greeted everyone with a warm enough smile, the small talk practiced and effortless.

“Addison, darling, you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Whitaker. So do you.”

“How’s the real estate market these days?”

“Busy,” I said smoothly. “Which I’m grateful for.”

“Oh, good,” she said approvingly. “Your mother said you had a wonderful sale last month.”

Of course she had.

Another woman clasped my hands dramatically. “Still single? That’s shocking.”

I laughed lightly. “I promise it’s not a tragedy.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. It happens when you’re career-focused.”

I nodded politely and resisted the urge to scream.

Then Lilly arrived.

“Oh my God!” she gasped, stepping into the room. “This is stunning. You guys absolutely killed it!”

I hugged her tightly. “You’re the one who looks stunning.”

“I’m going to cry,” she said, fanning her face. “Everything is exactly how I pictured it.”

That made all of it worth it. Because I love Lilly and I was truly happy for her, and seeing her face light up made every centerpiece, favor, and ridiculous group-chat crisis matter. This was her day, and I wanted it to be everything she had dreamed of.

The next two hours blurred into social niceties and champagne. I laughed. I complimented outfits. I answered questions about wedding favors like I had not been up late the night before Googling how to pretend I loved weddings.

At one point, two women debated Napa vintages beside the mimosa bar. Another complained about the waiting list for a Pilates instructor in Back Bay. Someone asked if I had considered joining the Junior League board this year.