Chapter 6: Almost Said
790 Words
The morning of the final rehearsal was crisp and bright. The sky, a perfect canvas of blue, gave the estate a sense of calm before the chaos of the big day. Ava stood at the edge of the ceremony lawn, arms crossed, watching staff lay out the last of the aisle runners.
Everything was nearly perfect. Almost.
“You’re scowling again,” a voice said beside her.
She turned slightly. Ethan stood there, holding a mug of coffee and wearing a teasing half-smile.
“I’m not scowling,” Ava replied.
“You have that little wrinkle between your brows. Same one you had when I changed the flower order.”
She smirked. “Don’t remind me.”
“I take it something’s wrong?”
Ava sighed. “No, not wrong. Just... pressure. High-profile client, high expectations. I want this wedding to be flawless.”
“It will be.”
She glanced up at him, surprised by the quiet certainty in his voice.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Because you’re running it. And because you care more than anyone I’ve worked with.”
There was a pause—one of those deep, meaningful silences where words almost escape.
She looked away. “I’m not used to people seeing that side of me.”
“Then they’re not looking closely enough.”
Ava didn’t reply. Instead, she reached for the clipboard tucked under her arm and turned toward the floral arch. “You did something new with the altar flowers.”
Ethan followed her gaze. “You noticed.”
“Of course I noticed. There’s more blush than yesterday. And jasmine.”
“You said the bride needed romance, didn’t you?”
She glanced sideways. “You remembered.”
He offered a soft smile. “I remember everything you say.”
That silence again—this time heavier, warmer, tinged with something unsaid.
Before Ava could respond, Jules waved her over from across the lawn. “Ava! The officiant’s here!”
Ava gave Ethan a look. “Duty calls.”
“I’ll be here,” he said simply.
As she walked away, she realized something strange.
She didn’t want to walk away.
**Early evening, post-rehearsal
The rehearsal ended smoothly. Guests laughed, vendors exchanged final notes, and the sun began its golden descent. Ava lingered at the edge of the ballroom, watching the light dance across the polished floors.
Ethan approached her with a glass of sparkling water in one hand.
“You’re still here.”
“So are you,” she said.
“I stay until the work feels complete.”
“Same.”
They stood in silence for a beat, listening to the distant sound of the catering team wrapping up.
“You know,” Ethan said, breaking the quiet, “I don’t usually stay on-site this long for weddings.”
“Why did you for this one?”
He glanced at her, then away.
“You.”
The word hung there like a slow bloom between them.
Ava’s breath caught.
“Ethan...”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly. “I just wanted you to know. Whatever this is—whatever it could be—it’s real for me.”
She looked down at her hands, at the clipboard she hadn’t let go of since morning.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I am too.”
“I don’t want to lose control. Or risk everything over something that might not last.”
He nodded. “I can’t promise it’ll be easy. But I can promise I won’t run.”
Ava met his eyes.
There it was again—that invisible thread. Fragile, but strong. Stretching between them with every shared glance, every word they didn’t say.
She stepped closer.
For a second, Ethan looked like he might kiss her.
But Ava turned her head slightly, just enough to stop the moment.
“I can’t—” she whispered.
“I know.”
He stepped back, respectful, but the ache in his eyes was undeniable.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, voice barely steady.
He nodded. “Tomorrow.”
And just like that, they parted again—not because they wanted to, but because they were still learning how to be brave.
**That night, Ava’s apartment
Ava sat on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, the lights low. Her phone rested in her palm, screen glowing softly.
A message from Ethan blinked at the top.
Ethan: “Sleep well. Tomorrow’s going to be beautiful.”
She stared at it, heart thudding.
Then typed:
Ava: “It already is.”
She didn’t hit send.
Instead, she closed the app, leaned back, and whispered aloud:
“Almost said it.”
- Writer
