During the rehearsal dinner, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter filled the terrace of the Havenbrook Inn. The tables with their lovely floral centerpieces and immaculate white linens were illuminated by the warm glow of lantern strings above. The perfume of rosemary chicken filled the balmy night air, blending with the soft noises of the nearby harbor.
Ava moved purposefully around the event, checking wine bottles, rearranging place cards, and keeping an eye out for any details that might be overlooked. She relied on control for stability. Safety meant control.
However, her chest constricted each time her eyes landed on a dark suit at the edge of the gathering. Daniel.
He was still in town. Of course he was. He lingered effortlessly, his charm allowing him to engage both mothers and groomsmen in conversation. He seemed like just another person to the untrained eye. Guest. But to Ava, he was the shadow she had spent years trying to avoid.
"Is everything okay?"
Ethan's voice brushed against her ear, low enough for her to hear alone. In the lantern light, his expression was unreadable as he stood close, holding his camera in one hand.
"I'm all right," she blurted out.
"You don't look well."
"Then stop searching."
Her words were sharper than she intended. Ethan didn't flinch, but she noticed his jaw tighten slightly. After a single nod, he raised his camera and disappeared back into the crowd, capturing unguarded smiles that Ava hardly noticed.
A painful tightness settled in her chest. She didn't want to push him away, but he might see Daniel as weak if he knew the truth—that she had once believed in forever and now felt surrounded by shards of that belief. Ava Bennett didn't tolerate weakness.
Thirty minutes later, Daniel found her near the buffet. He stepped into her path and said, "Ava," with an ease that made it seem effortless. "It's impossible to catch you."
"Because I'm working," she replied flatly.
Unfazed, he smiled. "I admire your perfectionism. It's what drew me to you."
She felt agitation rising within her. "Avoid it."
"Don't you remember your identity?" He spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. "I made mistakes. I know that. But look at you—managing this gathering with such grace. This is the world where you've always belonged."
Instead of fortifying her, his words scraped at old wounds. She stumbled for a moment.
And that's when Ethan noticed.
His grey eyes focused on them from the other side of the terrace. He saw Ava frozen, with Daniel leaning in and a smile spreading across Daniel's lips.
Though the words were inaudible to him, he could envision what was being said. Something twisted in his chest at the sight.
After the guests left and the last plate was cleared, Ava lingered by the lanterns to ensure the cleanup crew was doing their job. She brushed her bare arms against the cool night air.
"You allowed him to approach," Ethan's sharp voice cut through the silence as he emerged from the shadows, camera bag by his side.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, turning to face him.
"Daniel." The sound of his name felt weighty. "I noticed how he looked at you. The way you..."
Ethan's jaw clenched as he trailed off. "You didn't push him away."
Ava's heart raced. "It wasn't what you thought."
"So what was it?" Stormy and relentless, his eyes blazed into hers. "Because it seemed to me that he still held you."
Her throat felt constricted. Anger and shame coiled together inside her, suffocating her. "You know absolutely nothing about it."
Ethan whispered, "Then tell me. Allow me to understand."
His words shattered something within her. What would he think if she shared the truth—that she had once been foolish enough to trust Daniel, and that it had broken her so deeply?
Ava shook her head. "You have nothing to worry about. You're here to take pictures of a wedding, not analyse my past."
The ensuing silence was heavy and painful. Ethan's hands curled at his sides, and it looked like he might push back for a long time.
Instead, he let out a slow exhale as the strength left him. At last, he said in a flat voice, "You're right. I'm not worried about it."
The distance between them felt colder than the sea breeze as he turned to leave.
Ava's heart twisted painfully in her chest as she stood motionless beneath the lanterns, holding a limp clipboard.
It was better this way, she told herself.
Control meant safety, she reminded herself.
Yet all she felt was the piercing pain of loss as Ethan's silhouette vanished into the night.