Page 53 of Worth the Wait
“Lianne. I thought it was you.” Mrs. Judd’s voice behind me carries the kind of warm authority that suggests she’s been planning this conversation.
I turn to face her, forcing my expression into neutral politeness. “Mrs. Judd. Good evening. I trust everything is meeting your expectations?”
“The event is exquisite, dear. Truly sophisticated.” Her tone carries what sounds like genuine appreciation. “You’ve exceeded even my highest expectations, and believe me, I have very particular standards when it comes to family celebrations.”
“Thank you. That means a great deal coming from you.”
Mrs. Judd glances around the ballroom with obvious satisfaction before turning back to me with an expression that’s both kind and somehow final.
“You know, dear, I’ve been watching you work tonight, and I’m genuinely impressed by your dedication. It’s clear you care deeply about creating something special.”
There’s something in her tone—gentle but purposeful—that sets off warning bells.
“I want every event to be memorable,” I reply carefully.
“And this one certainly will be. Though I suspect it will be memorable for reasons beyond just the beautiful coordination.” Her gaze shifts toward where Cameron and Isabella are engaged in animated conversation. “It’s so wonderful to see Cameron connecting with someone who truly understands his world. Someone who can be a real partner in all aspects of his life.”
The words are diplomatically phrased, but their meaning cuts through me like a blade.
“I should check on the dinner service preparation,” I say, desperate to escape before this conversation reveals any more painful truths.
“Of course. But Lianne?” Mrs. Judd’s voice stops me, and when I turn back, her expression is genuinely sympathetic. “I hope you know that I’m not saying this to be unkind. It’s simply that some situations require clarity for everyone’s well-being. You understand, don’t you?”
I understand completely. Mrs. Judd isn’t being cruel—she’s being precise. Drawing clear lines between what I am and what I’ll never be in their world, between the role I’m playing tonight, and the role Isabella was born to fill.
“I understand,” I say, and I do.
I escape toward the kitchen, my heart pounding with the kind of panic that makes breathing difficult. In the relative safety of the service corridor, I lean against the wall and try to process what just happened.
Through the service window, I watch guests beginning to move toward their assigned tables for dinner service. Cameron escorts Isabella to Table One, pulling out her chair with the kind of gallant attention that suggests genuine care and respect. She accepts the gesture with natural grace, her smile radiant as she settles into the seat next to his.
They belong there. Together, at that table, in this world.
As the dinner service begins, I retreat to my coordination station, where I can manage the evening’s logistics whileremaining invisible to the guests whose magical celebration I’m creating.
This is where I belong, apparently. Managing the magic while others live it.
Some distances can’t be bridged by wanting something badly enough. Some walls are too high to climb, no matter how much you’ve achieved or how deeply you care.
Tonight will be perfect. Every detail flawless. Exactly what Sterling Industries paid for.
But for me, it’s goodbye.
18
The ballroom is nearly empty,but there’s no sign of Lianne.
Already the venue is in the final stages of breakdown—linens being packed, floral arrangements carefully preserved for guests who want to take the centerpieces home, audiovisual equipment being loaded onto trucks.
I’ve searched everywhere yet Lianne’s nowhere to be found. She’s also not answering her phone.
“Cameron!” Amanda appears at my elbow, looking professionally exhausted but satisfied in the way that comes from executing something complex without major disasters. “Everything went beautifully tonight. Lianne will be so pleased with the media coverage and guest feedback.”
“Where is she?” I ask directly, skipping the pleasantries that suddenly feel irrelevant.
Amanda’s expression becomes more guarded, the kind of careful neutrality that suggests she’s been given specific instructions about how to handle this conversation. “She coordinated thefinal vendor departures and supervised equipment breakdown. Made sure every detail was handled properly before anyone left.”
“But where is she now?”
