The music lifted again, bright and teasing, as the bride's laughter rang across the garden. Someone called out for all the single women to gather near the front, and a chorus of playful groans and cheers followed.
Alexandra felt Sam's hand lightly press her arm. "Go," she said, tone casual, eyes darting toward the crowd of women gathering near the archway.
"You're not coming?" Alexandra asked, smiling faintly.
Sam shook her head, the corners of her lips tugging upward in a small, noncommittal smirk. "I'll pass. Go have fun."
Alexandra rolled her eyes but obeyed, making her way to the front as the bride turned around, bouquet in hand, ready to throw. The air buzzed with laughter and chatter, the smell of champagne and roses thick around them.
"One, two—three!"
The bouquet arced through the air—a perfect burst of white and green spinning in the golden light—and before Alexandra could even process it, something soft landed squarely in her hands.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Gasps, laughter, teasing voices. "Oh my God, Alexandra caught it!" "Looks like Sam's next!" "Guess we'll be planning another wedding soon!"
Alexandra's cheeks burned, but she laughed it off, holding the bouquet aloft as the others clapped and teased. She turned toward Sam automatically—the one person she wanted to see smiling.
Sam was clapping, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
They returned to their seats a few minutes later, the laughter still echoing around them. Alexandra set the bouquet on the table, its petals brushing against her hand.
Sam hadn't said a word.
She sat straight-backed, eyes on the crowd, her expression composed and distant—the way she looked in meetings, not moments like this.
Alexandra tried, quietly. "Do you want something to drink? I can get you champagne."
Sam's voice was even, polite, too controlled. "I can get it myself."
Before Alexandra could respond, Sam was already standing, the hem of her dress whispering against the grass as she walked toward the champagne table.
Alexandra's smile faltered. The noise of the reception seemed to dim around her, replaced by the dull thud of her heartbeat.
She turned slightly when Nana called her name—soft, affectionate. "Alexandra, darling! Come here, sweetheart," Nana said, motioning her over with a small wave. "Cassey wanted to thank you properly for that lovely gift."
Alexandra straightened, pushing back the ache that had begun to settle in her chest. Her smile slipped into place—graceful, practiced. "Of course, Nana."
Cassey turned toward her, radiant in her lace gown, cheeks flushed with joy. "Alex!" she exclaimed, catching her hands in hers. "I can't believe you actually found that vase set. It's perfect. I told Sam you always had the best taste."
Alexandra chuckled lightly, though her eyes flicked toward the champagne bar for a fraction of a second. "I'm glad you liked it. You deserve the best—you and Ryan both."
"Oh, stop," Cassey laughed, squeezing her hands. "You have no idea how happy I am that Sam brought you. She's been... lighter lately. I think that's your doing."
Nana beamed, nodding in agreement. "Yes, dear. I've noticed that too. Our Sam doesn't smile easily, but she does when you're around."
Alexandra's throat tightened. "She does?" she asked softly, more to herself than to them.
"Of course she does," Cassey said with a grin, oblivious to the flicker of uncertainty in Alexandra's eyes. "She tries to hide it, but I know her too well."
Alexandra smiled—a small, restrained curve of the lips—and murmured, "I'll take that as a compliment."
They all laughed lightly, but Alexandra's gaze drifted again, drawn past the golden lights and the movement of the crowd.
There, near the champagne bar, stood Sam. One glass already gone, another half full in her hand. Her posture was straight, almost rigid, shoulders tight beneath the soft fall of her dress. Each time someone passed and tried to strike up a conversation, she smiled—polite, distant—and then turned away again, taking another sip.
Alexandra's own laughter faded, replaced by the quiet pulse of worry.
"Excuse me, Nana, Cassey," she said gently, touching Cassey's arm. "I just need to check on something."
Nana's brow lifted with quiet knowing, but she only smiled. "Go ahead, dear."
And as Alexandra turned, the sound of celebration dulled behind her—every step toward Sam feeling heavier than the one before.
When she reached Sam, she spoke softly, careful not to let her voice tremble.
"Are you planning to get drunk at your cousin's wedding?"
Sam turned, the sharp scent of champagne lingering between them. Her expression was calm—too calm.
"Why? You're paid to attend the wedding, Alex, not to give a damn about how much I drink."
The words hit like a slap—not loud, but devastatingly precise.
Alexandra blinked, breath catching for a second. For a heartbeat, she couldn't find her voice.
The clinking of glasses and hum of laughter surrounded them—a perfect evening for everyone else, but for them, the air had turned razor-sharp. Alexandra stared at her for a long moment, trying to keep her composure, but the ache in her chest was impossible to hide. She had wanted to talk to Sam—to fix things, to reach her—but in that moment, she realized she might already be too late.
Before either of them could speak again, a familiar, teasing voice cut through the tension.
"Well, well... are you two bickering, or is this some new kind of teamwork?"
Alexandra's eyes snapped to George. He lounged a few feet away, hands in his pockets, smirk sharp and dangerous, the kind that suggested he already suspected more than he should.
Sam stiffened slightly. "No! Of course not," she said quickly, forcing a laugh.
Alexandra mirrored her, carefully neutral. "Just... talking," she added, voice calm but measured.
George's smirk widened, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, talking, right. So tidy, so precise... like clockwork. Really makes it feel believable." His eyes flicked between them, sharp and calculating, like a predator circling prey.
Alexandra caught the subtle twitch in Sam's jaw, the way her shoulders stiffened, and felt the tension spike through her like electricity. George wasn't joking. He was testing them, poking for cracks, silently daring one of them to falter.
"We're fine," Sam said, voice tight, a hint of edge Alexandra recognized immediately.
"Mm," George hummed, tilting his head. "You know, lying about stuff never seems to suit you... and pretending to be something you're not?" He gave a faint shrug, almost casual, but the implication was sharp. "Well... I'm sure you've got your reasons."
Alexandra's hand twitched at her side. She saw Sam's eyes narrow slightly, jaw tightening further. Every word from George was a knife, subtly probing the unspoken truth between them.
"And you, Alexandra," George continued, voice smooth, almost playful, "you're very... convincing. But I've noticed the little moments. The way you look at each other, the timing of certain... interactions. Fascinating, really. Almost like you're... rehearsing?"
Alexandra's pulse quickened, though her face stayed calm. She stepped a fraction closer to Sam, a silent shield. Every glance, every smirk from George carried a hidden accusation—he didn't need to know the full story; his hints alone were enough to unsettle them.
Sam's exhale was measured, careful. "I don't need your lessons, George. And I certainly don't need your approval."
George's smirk deepened. "Ah, confidence. I like it. But remember—sometimes the things we try hardest to hide are the easiest to see. Chaos has a way of revealing everything."
Alexandra's gaze stayed locked on him, calculating. She could feel the tension in Sam, the way she braced herself. George might think he was playing a game, but Alexandra would protect this moment, this space, and Sam—without ever giving him the satisfaction of confirming anything.
George's gaze lingered, sharp and calculating, like he could see the cracks they tried to hide. "Funny thing about secrets," he said, voice smooth but cold, "they have a way of slipping out... eventually." The words sank into her chest like a stone—inevitable, accusing, impossible to ignore.
Then he turned and vanished into the crowd, but the tension he left behind clung to her like a second skin.
Alexandra didn't move. Her hands were cold, her heart racing, until the press of bodies finally swallowed him from view—and even then, she could still feel his eyes on her.