Ainslee and her bridesmaids continued to blow up my phone throughout the week. I'd been tempted more than once to mute the chat, but I knew she'd be at the fundraiser tonight. The last thing I needed was to look out of the loop in front of her or Chase.

Thankfully, I had an airtight excuse to ignore the buzzing chaos for a while. I was meeting Eloise and Susan, the Director of the charity, at the event center at three. That gave me a solid block of time to focus on work and push the incessant notifications to the back of my mind.

The event was set in Boulder, framed by stunning mountain views that made even the busiest afternoon feel serene. The June air was just warm enough to coax guests out onto the patio, where pub tables were scattered strategically to encourage mingling. Early summer in Colorado was always unpredictable. Afternoon rain showers or thick cloud cover were practically a given, but not today. Today was all brilliant blue skies and crisp mountain air.

For the next few hours, I was a whirlwind of efficiency, darting between caterers, bartenders, and waitstaff to ensure everything ran like clockwork. I double-checked the glitzy decor, fussed over the elegant floral centerpieces, and gave the final nod of approval when everything looked just right. Of course, there was always something to go wrong. The DJ showed up without extension cords, but Eloise, in her usual cool-under-pressure style, dashed off to solve that crisis before I could even worry about it.

I was just starting to feel like we might pull this off without any major disasters when Susan found me. She cornered me as I was leaving the bathroom, having just changed into my evening attire, her expression one of barely contained panic.

"There's a missing volunteer," she announced, her voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

I managed to calm her down with my best soothing tones and a reassuring smile, but it was clear she wasn't a fan of my everything-is-going-to-be-fine attitude. She wanted drama and a sense of urgency. Instead, I gave her level-headed problem-solving, which only seemed to agitate her further. Susan was a nit-picker by nature, constantly on edge and ready to pounce on even the smallest hiccup.

But I didn't have time for her fretting- not with Ainslee's arrival looming on the horizon and my phone vibrating in my clutch like a countdown clock to chaos.

I gave her my best I-got-it grin and reassured her that I would step into the open role which happened to be the door greeter who handed out the table number and auction paddles. I wasn't planning on sitting at the booth at the entrance to the ballroom but I didn't have anyone else on hand that could fill in either. Eloise was already making sure the space was ready for guests and the other volunteers for the charity were here as guests. I couldn't pull them over and put them to work. Susan made that abundantly clear.

I found the assigned table draped in gold fabric with a large Meaningful Journeys banner draped across the front in front of the ballroom's open doors. The gold name tags with the assigned table numbers were next to the stack of itineraries and I quickly organized them by table. I was just about done with table sixteen when Eloise sauntered over with a glass of champagne in her hand.

"Set up is done. We get to enjoy this before the chaos," she says as she hands me a flute. I notice she's also changed out of her Lululemon attire and is looking fabulous in a tight plum dress that would make me look like a stuffed sausage. Eloise is one of those women who drink and eat nothing but sugar and still somehow maintains a size two. She's also 5'7 so her heels have her towering over me, who stands at 5'5 with stilettos on.

"I am filling in as the greeter. Susan said the girl who is supposed to be here is sick, so looks like I am on door duty," I frown as I was hoping I wouldn't have to work for the whole party. Chase told us we were also guests tonight, but I guarantee I won't be eating when the rest of my table is called to go through the buffet line.

"I'll help you until I am pulled away by some other fire. People should be trickling in any minute now," she says before downing what's left in her glass. I take a sip but since I haven't eaten yet, I take it slowly as I don't need to be buzzed while trying to find name cards.

I tuck my champagne flute behind the silent auction notice and spot an elderly couple slowly making their way down the hallway toward the ballroom. The woman's sequined jacket catches every bit of light, scattering tiny reflections across the walls like a traveling disco ball. Once she steps into the ballroom, where the colorful event lighting is in full force, she's going to outshine the centerpieces.

"No one mentioned how far this room was from the parking garage," the man grumbles as they finally reach our check-in table. His brow furrows in irritation, and he leans on his cane as if every step has been a betrayal.

"I'm already exhausted," he adds, a bit louder this time, as though someone might swoop in and shorten the distance retroactively.

"I would've brought my wheelchair. This is ridiculous," the woman chimes in, her voice sharp and accusatory. They both turn their expectant, dissatisfied gazes toward me as though I personally masterminded the marathon trek from the parking lot to the ballroom.

I muster my warmest smile, ignoring the slight jab in their tone. "I'm so sorry about the distance," I say gently, gesturing to the sign-in sheet. "Let's get you both checked in and seated so you can relax and enjoy the evening."

Eloise steps in with her usual charm, sweetly asking for their names while I maintain my smile and try not to let their grouchy energy weigh me down.

I can't help but wonder what else the evening has in store. Susan's been prickly all week, and the guest list is an eclectic mix of charity regulars, their family members, and friends. It's anyone's guess how smoothly this night will go, but if the sequined jacket and disgruntled complaints are any indication, it's bound to be eventful.

We find the couple's table and Eloise kindly offers to escort them straight to their seats. She's great at winning anyone over since her smile is like sunshine and her warm attitude always seems genuine. It's what makes her a great coordinator as she's so easy to work with and no one is afraid to approach her.

I know my reputation at work, and it's not the warm, approachable type. I excel at my job, but my resting bitch face and no-nonsense demeanor have earned me a reputation for being intimidating. I can fake warmth and charm in front of clients, but the moment they turn away, my carefully crafted grin vanishes like it was never there.

I summon one of those practiced smiles as the next batch of guests approaches. It's about half an hour into the evening when Chase arrives with Ainslee draped elegantly on his arm. My first instinct is to swoon over Chase because how could I not? But Ainslee, as always, makes that impossible.

Chase Camden has a presence that can silence a room. He walks with the confidence of a man who knows he belongs, exuding charisma with every calculated step. At Havicore, he's our Don Draper, our Harvey Specter- the man who always seems larger than life. He adjusts the top button of his tailored black suit with an effortless grace, his slicked-back ebony hair gleaming under the warm lights. Tonight, he looks devastatingly handsome.

Ainslee, on the other hand, is a vision in a shimmering navy gown that hugs her figure like a second skin. The dress catches the light in all the right ways, and her sapphire choker glitters like it was stolen from royalty. I glance down at my simple black satin A-line dress and feel uncomfortably like the help rather than a guest at this event.

"Stella!" Ainslee's voice rings out, warm and enthusiastic. She leans over the check-in table to plant an air kiss on my cheek, leaving behind the faintest trace of her expensive perfume.

Before I can respond, Chase's deep voice cuts in. "Why are you working the door?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine curiosity as his sharp eyes scan the room. His hand lingers near the button of his jacket, a gesture I've come to recognize as his way of grounding himself when he's sizing up a situation.

"Jeez, you could start with hello," Ainslee chides, giving him a playful swat on the arm. She tosses her long, honey-blonde hair behind her shoulder, revealing the sapphire choker that practically commands attention. I force myself to glance away, resisting the urge to linger on it.

"A volunteer is sick, I stepped in so Susan wouldn't have heart failure," I answer but Chase still seems annoyed that I am working an event that I am supposed to now be a guest at. Eloise pops out of the doorway, finished escorting the last round of guests, and waves at Chase. Her eyes didn't seem to notice how dashing Chase looks and if they did, she was damn good at hiding it. She gives Ainslee a quick squeeze and says the very thing I thought of when I saw the bride-to-be.

"Holy shit, that necklace is gorge!" Eloise blurts and she leans in to inspect it closer. Ainslee's hand flies to her neck and then replies, "Isn't it? Chase decided to gift me my 'something blue' early."

I pretend to fawn over it as well, feigning enthusiasm for the gorgeous piece of jewelry.

"Wow, lucky girl!" I say, attempting to hide every ounce of my envy.

"I hear you both have to work for a bit," Ainslee frowns. "You'll have to come find me when you're free. Chase will dump me off at my seat and then go off and mingle." She pouts at Chase and he gives her an eye roll.

"You know I have to schmooze. This is a fundraiser. I need to make the rounds," he tells her in a tone that implies they've already had this discussion.

"We'll have fun later," Eloise tells her and I add, "It's an open bar."

"Where are we seated?" Chase asks as he glances at the name tags and I didn't think I would be the one telling him he was placed right next to the music speakers.

"Oh, um," I say, playing dumb, as I flip through the last of the seating cards. Before I can answer, Chase adds casually, "Oh, and I have one more coming. Do you remember my friend Logan from college? One of my groomsmen."

I want to groan, of course I remember Logan. How could I forget? I practically spent an entire summer navigating the frustration of his "whatever works" attitude. We spent two months planning his company's launch party, and every step felt like pulling teeth. Nothing got finalized because of his refusal to actually go over details, and every time I thought we'd made progress, Logan would hit me with that aggravatingly noncommittal reply that had me grinding my teeth in frustration.

"Logan Swensen? Yeah, we planned his company's launch party. Remember? Pretty sure he's also coming to Mexico," I reply, my voice smooth, but the memory of him still makes my jaw tighten. Chase laughs, completely unfazed like he doesn't remember the chaos we went through just last summer. 

"Oh yeah, so you remember Logan," he says, beaming. "He lives just up the street, so I told him to swing by if he could. Just texted me, he's coming."

Chase's enthusiasm practically glows in his smile, and I try my best to hide the tension rising in my chest. 

"Oh? Well... okay. Is he coming for dinner?" I ask, my tone intentionally nonchalant, as if adding a last-minute guest to a seated dinner wasn't just one more wrinkle in a night already stretching my patience. "Do I need to find him a table?"

"Not sure. He didn't say. You always leave room for unexpected guests right? Just seat him at an open table." Chase is aware that tickets to this fundraiser were $150 and paid for in advance, so I didn't really leave a table open for unexpected guests. Eloise is also aware we only have one seat open and we both happen to know it's at our table. Next to me.

"I'll figure it out," I say with a swish of my hand, putting on a can-do attitude. "If he shows up after dinner, just text me so I can direct him to a seat for the auction."

"Great," Chase replies, clearly satisfied, and I realize with a jolt that in all the chaos of dealing with last-minute changes, I've forgotten to tell him where he's actually seated. I silently hand him his table number and auction paddle, and he and Ainslee glide off through the doorway, exuding effortless confidence.

"You're so annoyed," Eloise remarks, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. I relax my jaw, not wanting to appear as tense as I feel.

"Of all people to bring unexpected guests," I mutter, the frustration seeping through. "He should know how much of a nightmare that is for a seated event. This guy better not bring a plus-one." I can't keep the edge from my voice, especially when it's Logan Swensen—the last-minute planner of the century.

"This is the guy we had the event for last summer, right? The one with the man-bun and that... pot-head energy?" Eloise asks, raising an eyebrow. "He came into the office all the time because he didn't understand how electronic signatures work?" 

I nod, and the shared annoyance between us is palpable. If Logan weren't Chase's good friend, I would have canceled his contract and told him to have his launch party at a bowling alley. They didn't need contracts signed and vendors paid for.

"That's him," I reply, exasperated. "Out of all the friends Chase could have invited... it had to be him."

"I hope he knows this is black tie. Shorts and flip-flops will not do." 

"I doubt he owns a tie," I mumble and she smirks. 

"I'll go grab us refills. Looks like there are only a few guests left to trickle in," Eloise says, her eyes scanning the dwindling stack of name cards. I nod, my mind wandering as I wonder if they'll show up before dinner or if I'll need to make a run for the cocktail waitress and steal a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"Remember when Chase promised this was going to be a fun event?" I joke, and Eloise raises an eyebrow, her expression deadpan as she silently agrees.

The night's energy had shifted, and we were both stuck on the edge of that slow burn of expectation versus reality.