the reception was in full swing. As always, the dessert proved popular at weddings. The platters emptied out almost as quickly as they came, and I'd already made two trips to and from the kitchen.

This was my third.

I stepped out with two plates balanced in each hand, and noticed the lift doors begin to close. "Hold the door, please!" A hand stopped the doors and I dashed in, only to stop short. "Oh, hello!"

"Hi." Parker looked just as surprised as I was. He glanced down at the plates and held out his hand. "Let me help you with that."

"Oh, no, that's fine—" I started to say, but he took one of the plates from me.

As the doors slid shut again, I watched as he undid one corner of the plastic wrap to pull out a macaroon. He popped it into his mouth, taking his time to chew, and shut his eyes briefly as though to savour it.

"Did you really want to help me with the plates, or did you just want another macaroon?" I asked in amusement.

He swallowed and met my gaze; his eyes bright. "Yes."

I smiled and shook my head at him. Who would've thought Parker Collins had a sweet tooth? "What're you doing down on third? Shouldn't you be at the reception?"

He shrugged and raised his other hand. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but he'd kept that hand well hidden behind his back. Now I saw that he held a bottle of wine. "It's for the bride."

I let out a laugh at that. It was obvious that he'd repeated exactly what I'd said earlier. "Someone's a fast learner."

"I had a good teacher." He raised the bottle as though to salute me, then asked, "What about you? Didn't you just bring a new batch of dessert up?"

"Two, but they're gone now. The macaroons and eclairs, at least. I don't think my meringues are good enough yet."

"They're good."

I stared at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah, I had some earlier. Had is not really the right word—I stole them off my friend's plate. I don't think he'll forgive me for that."

"Somehow, I think a friendship can overcome some cake thieving."

"I doubt so. Nolan is very serious when it comes to food."

I laughed again and followed him out of the lift. I was pleasantly surprised to find that talking to Parker was this easy. We'd barely exchanged a few words back in school and he'd always had this air of reticence that kept most people at bay. I almost didn't want to go back to the reception because we'd have to part ways. I hadn't seen him in years. Who knew when I'd meet him again?

As we headed down the hallway, Parker slowed his pace to match mine. He cleared his throat and I glanced at him. "A client of mine has a gathering here next week. If you don't have anything lined up then, I'd like it if you could cater for him."

"Thank you, but...I'm afraid this is my last one. I'll be closing the business after this."

His eyebrows rose at my words and I tried not to falter. Admitting that I had failed was never easy. Admitting that I had failed in front of someone I'd always looked up to was even harder.

"I've run up quite a bit of debt and this is the only option," I explained. "I could barely afford to cater for this wedding as it is, and I was lucky that Stella helped me. Anyway, it's for the best. Just Desserts has been around for a long time and it belonged to my dad. But he's no longer here now and... There's no use holding onto something when it's already gone, right?" I asked, with a sideway glance at him.

He nodded slowly. "I'm sorry to hear that. About your dad and the business."

"Thanks." I fixed a bright smile on my face. "Well, at least it's going out with a bang. And thanks for carrying that for me, by the way." I held out a hand for the plate, but he hesitated.

"I could help you bring it—"

"No, Stella would have my head if she saw a guest helping me." I tugged the plate from him and he reluctantly handed it over. He held the door open for me to step through and I smiled at him. "Go have fun. It's your mum's wedding, after all."

He nodded and we parted ways. I headed back to the dessert table to clear the old platters and unwrap the new ones. Within minutes, a small crowd had gathered. One of the men looked a little familiar. I stared at the blonde for a moment, before I realised that he was the guy who'd called Parker over earlier. Was that his friend Nolan? I bit back a grin as I watched him pile meringues on his plate, before he stuffed an eclair into his mouth.

When I finished setting up, I wandered off to the side. My gaze travelled to the centre of the garden, where a makeshift dance floor had been placed in front of the live jazz band. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed Parker all through the reception. In between refilling the dessert and small talk with the guests, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to him every so often.

It was always easy to find him. Not that he dressed differently or did anything to stand out. It was his height and poise that set him apart. Always self-assured; always dignified. He weaved through the crowd in an almost graceful manner—speaking to guests but never staying for long. Although he smiled frequently, it never seemed to reach his eyes. And every so often, he retreated back to his corner: by the reception table—far out of reach from everyone else.

Now, however, he was front and centre on the dance-floor with his mum. Rosemary Müller reminded me of those old Hollywood actors from movies I used to watch as a kid—with a graceful air and a classic beauty. I watched as Parker spun the bride in a smooth manoeuvre, then laughed when she spoke to him.

This time, his smile reached his eyes.

The sharp click of someone's heels made me turn, only to find Stella headed towards me with a smile on her face. No, a smirk. A smirk that meant she was on to me, and I braced myself for her next words.

"Look at you," she mused as she handed me a glass of champagne. I took it and sipped, enjoying the sweet and tart taste on my tongue. "Still the smitten kitten after all these years."

I turned my gaze back to the dance-floor, where Parker had just finished his dance with his mum. He grinned, playfully bowed when she mock-curtsied, and let her new husband sweep her up for another dance. I shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really? So that wasn't Parker Collins I saw you walk in with earlier? And that isn't Parker Collins you're ogling right now?"

"I do not ogle! I'm just...observing."

She hummed and smiled sweetly at me. "You can call it whatever you want, but I know you've already stripped that suit off him a hundred times over in your head. Probably licked his abs a dozen times over too, and drizzled chocolate sauce down his happy trail."

"That's disturbingly graphic."

"And yet you don't deny it." She let out a cackle of laughter that sounded uncannily like a Disney movie villain's. Sometimes, I was certain that she was one in another life. "You should thank me, really. I knew you'd be happy to see him."

"You planned this?"

"I planned a wedding for a hundred and twenty-two people. I had no time to plan this." I raised my eyebrows at her words, and she sighed. "Fine, I may have suggested a different caterer from the one he originally wanted. Parker didn't know it was you, but he was all on board with my suggestions. He's a very accommodating man. If I'd suggested that he get on board you, he'd probably accommodate with that too."

"You're incorrigible..." I trailed off as I noticed a familiar figure some distance away.

Oskar, he'd told me earlier, nephew of the groom. He stood by the champagne table with his back to the crowd. My eyes narrowed as he fished out a white packet from his suit pocket, then emptied it into the nearest glass.

My heart began to pound. "And so is he."

Without waiting for Stella's reply, I shoved my glass at her and stepped forward. Cold dread ran through my veins, along with a rush of adrenaline. He was already halfway towards the bridesmaids' table. I didn't know what I needed to do, except that I needed to do something. Anything.

Too focused on Oskar, I stumbled right into something. Or someone. Two hands shot out to steady me by the elbows. I gasped and looked up, only to find Parker right in front of me.

"Hey." He dropped his hands from my elbows and took a step back. His gaze roved my features and he frowned. "Is everything alright?"

"No," I blurted, as my gaze drifted back to Oskar.

Champagne flute in one hand; his other on the back of the chair where one of the bridesmaids sat. I was close enough now that I could see it—the way he looked not at her, but at the low cut of her dress. The hunger in his eyes. It wasn't that of a man genuinely fond of a woman, but that of a predator eyeing its prey. He offered her the drink and she shook her head. He only chuckled and held it out to her again.

I swallowed hard and turned back to Parker. "I—I'm sorry, I have to go," I murmured as I sidestepped him. The wide-eyed confusion on his face cut straight to my heart. I drew a deep breath and made a beeline for the bridesmaids' table.

I didn't even think.

Just as the girl started to take a sip, I knocked the glass right out of her hand. Cold champagne splattered across the front of my dress. I winced at the sudden chill, but grabbed the nearest empty plate off the table.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that." I shot the girl an apologetic look and grabbed the glass out of her hand. "It's just—we're running a little short on plates and glasses and what not. Sorry again. Enjoy the reception."

As I drew back, I felt Oskar's eyes burn into me. Cold, hard, angry. I met his gaze for a moment, then turned away, only to freeze in my steps. I really should've thought this through. All I wanted was to stop him. I hadn't meant to make a scene.

Heat rose to my cheeks as I moved through the crowd. Stella came up to me, with Parker some distance behind. Something about his expression made me wonder if he knew exactly what had occurred. His gaze landed on me, then became flinty as he looked at Oskar.

"What happened?" Stella asked in a hushed voice.

I handed her the glass. "Keep an eye on the drinks."

She took the glass from me with a grim nod. She knew what I meant. As I passed Parker, I felt his eyes on me. I shot him a faint smile and headed for the door.

By the time I reached the washroom, my dress had clung to my skin. I braced my palms on the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were still wide; my jaw still clenched. I dug my fingers into the sink to keep them from shaking. I wondered if Parker could see how frightened I had been earlier. I wondered if anyone could see any of that.

Deep breaths. It's over now.

"Miss Pearce?"

I jumped at the voice and spun around. A lady dressed in the Mortezion's uniform stood by the doorway of the washroom. She walked over and held out a black suit jacket to me. "Mr Collins thought you might need this."

I blinked and took it from her. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

As the door swung shut behind her, I looked down at the jacket in my hands. Soft and crisp to the touch, with a hint of lemon aftershave and peppermint. It was clearly made of expensive material and smelled just like him.

I faltered, not wanting to dirty the suit, but eventually gave in. I draped it over my shoulders, then buttoned it at the front. It hung over my frame, several sizes too big, and I bit back a faint smile as I stared at my reflection.

I wonder if I'll ever see him again.