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It was gorgeous, of course.
She felt a little pang. She was so glad things were good with her and Noah and Sabrina. And the Princes had been practically like family to her. She did feel just the tiniest bit of longing to be there.
No.
Spreadsheet, dammit. God, what was wrong with her?
Now if she could just move around enough funding to commission a second collage artist, she could host simultaneous events . . .
. . . The thing was, she couldn’t go to the wedding. She’d already told everyone she wouldn’t be there, and the thought of having to face them... Not to mention the attention she’d draw if she crashed the wedding unannounced. No. She was much better off here . . .
All right, she could probably take a portion of the money earmarked for supplies later in the year and allocate that toward the collage artists.
. . . Still, if she could just be a fly on the wall, just see everyone without raising a fuss . . .
Or maybe she should simply move the collages to a later event and focus on something simpler that required fewer supplies—like pencil sketches—for the earlier dates.
. . . If only there were a way she could be there without anyone knowing she was—
Her eyes, which had been wandering along with her thoughts, stopped on her gym bag in the corner of the room. The zipper was open just an inch or so. And peeking out from inside was the faded brim of an old baseball cap.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Vicky ducked her head and shuffled along the outer aisle of the open air theater, grateful that the large number of guests made it possible to slip in without drawing too much attention. She’d almost been stopped by the security detail at the doors. But fortunately Noah had mentioned the decision to hold the wedding at the theater had meant they had to employ a stage crew to handle the lighting and set pieces that were already in place for the first production of the season. In her ball cap, yoga pants, and oversized hoodie, she’d been able to convince them she was a staff member, late for work. Good thing she’d never gotten around to returning Ryder’s clothes from that day at the park.
The stage was dominated by a huge wall of metal stairs and platforms. It should have been dark and imposing (it would be in a week, when Hamlet opened), but it was offset by the thousands and thousands of flowers that were hung on every rail and bar. Vicky smiled to herself. Sabrina was nothing if not creative.
The audience was maybe a quarter full—even that must have been several hundred people. The constant murmur of the excited guests had been enough that Vicky hadn’t drawn any attention to herself as she’d moved along the edge of the theater.
Then a woman in robes—the minister, she supposed—stepped out onto the stage. The lights changed, rendering the background scenery in deep blues and purples and focusing all attention on the area just in front of the central spiral staircase. The audience grew quiet.
It was breathtaking.
The minister gave a little nod, and music began playing from somewhere.
The audience looked around expectantly. But Vicky saw them first. Noah and then Ryder entered from the top of the spiral stairs. Ryder held himself tall as he followed his brother to the altar. No motorcycle boots. And, yeah. He looked good.
The lights shifted, and now a lovely Black woman in an elegant lavender dress, her hair laced with flowers, appeared at the top of a long staircase on the far side of the set. Sabrina’s best friend, Ava, the maid of honor.
Vicky watched her descend the steps gracefully and was even more glad she had decided to back out of the ceremony. She adored Sabrina and was glad they had forged their connection. But without her in the picture, Sabrina and Noah had opted for a more intimate ceremony, with just the one attendant each. It felt right, each of them joined by one special person. Sabrina with Ava. Noah with, of all people, Ryder. Her heart squeezed, seeing the two of them there for each other after all these years.
Also, she never would have gotten down those metal stairs in heels without falling on her face. Ava was a marvel.
Ava arrived at the altar, the theater suddenly silent as the sound of her footsteps stopped and the music that had accompanied her faded out.
This was it. Vicky’s throat tightened. A tear rolled down her cheek.
This could have been her. Her walking down the aisle toward Noah. She had imagined it so many times.
And now that she was here—a mere anonymous observer, even—she knew that this was right. This was what was meant to be, and she was so, so overcome with sheer joy for her friends and the happiness they’d found.
She bent to dig in the pocket of her hoodie. Why hadn’t she thought to bring tissues? It was a wedding for God’s sake.
A bright light flicked on in her periphery, and she heard the collective shuffling of the crowd rising from their seats and turning.
Forget the tissue. She just wanted to see the bride, and then she’d sneak out. She didn’t want to stay too long and risk someone noticing her.
She dabbed her eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie and then froze. She had expected Sabrina to enter from backstage, through the scenery as the others had. But she was making her entrance—on her father’s arm—from the back of the theater. And perhaps because there was no straight aisle down the center like in a church, they were headed for the side aisle. The side aisle Vicky was currently standing in.
