Page 16 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
People pause. Heads turn.
“Danielle,” Maya continues, walking straight to her and gently prying the phone from her clenched fingers. “You’re the bride. You’re not supposed to solve this. Sit down, drink your mimosa, and try to remember that this is still your day. I can take over as coordinator. I’ve worked enough weddings that I know how things run.”
Danielle blinks at her, dazed, and then obeys like she’s been hypnotized.Maya’s already moving. Clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the scribbled notes and half-crossed checklists like they’re battle plans. She pulls a pen from behind her ear—how long has she been wearing that?—and starts issuing calm, precise orders.
“We’re going to need extra hands redoing the seating cards. The florist should be here by ten, and I’ll call them directly. Liam—can you double-check the audio setup for the ceremony space?”
He nods, already pulling out his phone.
“Jake, see if you can charm the harpist back. Use your Disney prince face.”
“Which one?” Jake asks, grinning. “There’s a lot in the vault.”
“Just don’t flirt her into quitting again,” she mutters, and he salutes with mock-seriousness before striding off.
I step in before I can talk myself out of it. “What can I do to help?”
Maya looks up. Really looks. Her eyes meet mine and there’s a moment—brief, quiet, electric. But there’s something behind that calm, a flicker of exhaustion, or maybe determination laced with fear.
She’s holding it together for everyone else, but I can tell—barely.
And still, she doesn’t falter. Her expression softens, like I surprised her. Like she forgot I was there and then remembered all at once.
“Can you jump in on the seating?” she asks.
“Can do,” I nod.
I’ll take on the seating chart – hell, I’d go hunting for Big Foot if she asked me to.
Truth be told, even if there wasn’t a wedding on the brink of disaster, I’d follow her anywhere.
Chapter seven
JAKE
Maya has always been good under pressure.
The kind of calm that doesn’t just show up when the sky is falling—itthrivesthere. She’s cool, confident, and way too composed for someone who voluntarily signed up to wrangle bouquets and seating charts like it’s a competitive sport.
So when she meets up with me, Liam, and Ethan to go over the revised wedding plans, clipboard in hand and pen tucked behind her ear like a general surveying a battlefield, I already know what kind of game she’s playing.
Professional. Polished. Unshakable.
Which, of course, makes it way too tempting not to mess with her.
“So, what you’re saying,” I begin, stretching my arms behind my head like I’ve got all the time in the world, “is you need someone to taste test all the cake samples.”
I force a laugh, but inside, my brain is already running a mile a minute.
Maya doesn’t look up from her notes. “That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what Iheard,though,” I say, flashing her a grin. “And as someone with an incredibly refined palate and absolutely no dignity, I humbly volunteer as tribute.”
She snorts.Snorts.And then tries to cover it up with a fake cough, which only makes it better.
“That laugh,” I say, eyes narrowing. “That was real.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she replies, but she’s already losing the battle. Her lips curve, her eyes crinkle at the corners, and then that full, sun-warm laugh bubbles up, filling the space like the room itself is exhaling.
