Page 193 of With a Cherry On Top

I turn back to the reception, soaking in the scene. Primrose, barefoot in a flowing pink dress, practically glows as Logan twirls her on the dance floor, laughter ringing through the night like a melody. The wedding was beautiful—quick, with standard vows, but heartfelt enough that everyone got misty-eyed. Watching the love between Logan and Primrose play out so openly, so unguardedly, felt almost intrusive. Like peeking through a window into something sacred.

Now, the reception is a perfect reflection of them—intimate, warm, threaded with easy joy. People move from table to table, eating from the buffet Shane prepared, swaying on the dance floor, sharing drinks and stories. It’s the kind of celebrationeven my socially anxious brother can enjoy. And he is. For once, Logan looks completely at peace.

So does Charlotte. Like she’s shed some immeasurable weight. She’s had food, drinks, and she’slaughed. Danced. Chatted. All the things she should get to do.

I don’t realize I’ve been staring until Ian’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Have you told her yet?”

“Hmm?” I turn as he steps closer, a beer in each hand.

“That you love her.”

I force a neutral expression, but my fingers twitch as I accept the beer. “Oh. No, not yet. Is it that obvious?”

“Only when you look at her,” he says, taking a sip. “And when you don’t.”

I huff out a chuckle, shaking my head. “Just...waiting for the right moment, I guess.”

“Take it from me, no better moment than a wedding.” He smacks his lips. “Or the present. Coincidentally, we’re at a?—”

“Yes, I get it.” I roll my eyes. “So, what, do I just...drop it on her? Do I need a speech?”

“You say...oh!” His eyes light up like he’s struck comedic gold. “You say ‘I love youcherrymuch.’”

My nose scrunches. “What?”

“Or . . . ‘Icherry-sh you’?”

Oh, boy. “She’d laugh in my face.”

Ian grins. “Exactly. And then she’d kiss you.”

Charlotte is now deep in conversation with Amelie. She’s got that little crease in her forehead, the one she gets when she’s listening intently, absorbing every word. She’s gorgeous. She always is, but tonight, with her easy smile and soft joy, she’s something else entirely.

“Looks like things worked out,” Ian muses, pointing at the two of them.

I nod, taking a pull from the bottle. “Yeah. In no small part due to your help, I’m sure.”

He shrugs. “Eh. This was mostly her.” He rolls his beer between his fingers, scratching at the label. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine.”

“Yeah? With your mom and all . . .”

I glance toward Mom, sitting in the far-right corner, chatting with a cousin. “I’m trying to be thankful for the good moments without obsessing over the bad ones that will come.”

Ian hums. “Sounds like the Aaron my wife tells me is so great.”

I snort. “Hey, about the...job and everything else, I want you to know there are no hard feelings on my part. I hope with time, we?—”

“We’re fine, Aaron.” He smacks my shoulder. “I wish you’d handled it differently, but we’re fine.”

Relief loosens something in my ribs. “Thank you, seriously.”

“What are you going to do?”

Job wise? Who the fuck knows. “Maybe, um...another private chef opportunity will come along.” I rub at the ache forming between my eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”