WILD WEDDING HOOK UP

The air in the hall was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and the underlying hum of a high-society engine.

Isabella stood within the circle of her family, staring at the newly married couple with a smile on her face. Her best friend, Olivia, and brother, Derek, were finally married to each other, and she almost couldn't believe it. Olivia looked breathtaking, the gown caught in the soft glow of the chandeliers, her hand tucked firmly into Derek’s arm and they were sharing a quiet, private look amidst the chaos of their own reception. The picture of a couple who had finally weathered the storm. For a moment, Isabella felt a swell of genuine warmth, but it was quickly punctured by the sound of her father’s voice. 

"I’m telling you, Derek, the expansion into the youth sector is going to require a complete overhaul of the digital archives," their father, Henry Hawthorne said, his hand resting on his son's shoulder with a grip that was as much about business as it was about pride . “You made a good decision. I'm very proud”

Isabella almost groaned outloud. Did their father have to talk about work even today, she wondered. As the Head of Digital Strategy and Outreach for the Hawthorne Foundation, her mind was rarely off the clock, even with her brother as president, and now with him leaving soon for his honeymoon, she knew the overhaul her father spoke of would land squarely on her desk until he returned. 

"Darling, please," Claire Hawthorne whispered to her husband with a graceful smile, though her eyes held a little bit of warning. "It's our son's wedding. Do you really have to discuss the foundation today?"

Isabella exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, silently thanking her mother for stepping in, but her joy was short-lived as her father's eyes lit up, spotting a familiar face in the crowd.

"Ah, and here is the man of the hour! Well, one of them." Henry stepped forward to clasp the hand of a silver-haired man with a commanding presence and an easy, booming laugh. "Franklin! I was beginning to think you’d spent the whole cocktail hour at the oyster bar."

"You know me too well, Henry," Franklin Bolton chuckled, bowing his head respectfully to Claire before beaming at the newlyweds. "A spectacular ceremony. Truly. Congratulations. Derek, I expect great things from you this year—especially after our last meeting."

"The feeling is mutual, Franklin," Derek replied, shaking his hand. "We’re ready for the new blood to start. I assume the paperwork is finalized?"

"Almost," Franklin said, his gaze shifting to Isabella. "And I believe you’ll be the one keeping my son in line, Ms Hawthorne? Although you were absent at our previous meetings, I understand you’re the engine who'll be running this particular project."

Isabella offered a polite, practiced smile. "I prefer to think of myself as the navigator, Mr. Bolton. I look forward to seeing if your son can keep up with our pace."

"He’ll have to," Franklin said, glancing over his shoulder at the swirling crowd of gowns and tuxedos. "Speaking of which... where is the boy? He was right behind me when we spoke to the Senator."

Henry looked around, amused. "Typical of these young men. My son’s wedding and the future of our partnership is standing right here, and Alexander is playing a disappearing act?"

"He’s never been one for formal introductions," Franklin sighed, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Alex has a habit of finding the most interesting person in the room rather than the most important one. He’s around here somewhere."

"Well, Isabella will meet him soon enough," Claire said, trying to smooth over the minor breach of etiquette as she signaled a waiter. "And hopefully we can discuss other things that have nothing to do with the foundation? This isn't the time or the place,"

Isabella nodded, though her eyes scanned the room with a sudden, sharp curiosity. She knew Alexander Bolton’s resume—it was impeccable, bordering on intimidating—but she hadn't yet seen the man behind the credentials.

"I’m sure he’ll turn up soon," Henry said, gesturing for a waiter to bring a fresh round of champagne. "To my son and his new wife, to the Foundation, and to new beginnings."

The group raised their glasses and the music shifted into a sweeping romantic ballad. Isabella watched Derek lead Olivia to the dance floor, holding her as if she were the only solid thing in a spinning world, and suddenly, the hall felt too large and the air too thin.

She was officially the only single one left in the friend group, she thought. Her brother was a husband. Her best friend was a wife. Even Tessa, their other friend, was tucked away in a corner whispering into the ear of the man she’d been dating for a while now. Judging by how things were going they'd likely marry within the year, and here she was, without even a date to the wedding.

Sighing, she turned and retreated to the bar. "Bourbon. Neat," she told the bartender, her voice clipping the end of the sentence. 

She'd done enough dancing for the day, so she spent the next hour as an observer. She turned down a polite cousin and two ambitious young associates who wanted a dance with her, her smiles becoming more brittle with every glass.

When it was finally time for the send-off, she went out and stood in the cool night air, tossing rose petals and screaming her lungs out as Derek and Olivia sped away in a vintage convertible. She had kissed them both, her heart genuine in its joy for them, but as the taillights vanished down the long driveway, a cold sort of silence settled over her.

She didn't want to go home just yet, and she sure as hell didn't want to think about the mountain of work waiting for her on Monday, so she walked back inside, the party now winding down into that hazy, late-night glow where the prestige fades and the reckless choices begin. She said goodbye to her parents who were leaving as well and headed straight back to the bar, sliding onto a stool.

"Another one," she said, tapping her glass. "And make it a double this time."

Isabella took a long sip, the amber liquid burning a trail down her throat, and leaned back. She was happy for Derek and Olivia. She really was, and she'd never really thought she cared much about being in a relationship or getting married, so what was the problem tonight and why was she suddenly feeling this way? 

“Everything alright?” The bartender asked, his voice a friendly anchor. He was young, with a quick smile and hands that moved with practiced ease.

Isabella looked up to see him smiling at her,  his hands busy drying off a glass. She returned his smile as her eyes scanned the leather-bound menu on the counter. She needed something a bit sharper than just bourbon now, or at least a little different and more fun. Something to cut through the heavy floral scent of the lilies and the lingering sentimentality of the wedding. 

“Everything is great,” she replied, “Would you make that a vodka martini instead?”

He cocked an eyebrow when she made her request. “Shaken, not stirred, madame?” His Scottish-accented Bond impression was just ridiculous enough to make her laugh, a genuine sound that loosened the knot in her chest.

“However you recommend it.” she replied.

“You sure?” He raised both brows, leaning in slightly. “It’s prett