The morning blurred into a montage of small crises averted. A missing boutonniere was found in the groomsmen’s mini fridge for reasons no one could explain. A bridesmaid with a broken heel was solved with the backup shoes I’d packed in my emergency kit. The string quartet arrived late, and I had to personally escort them to the ceremony site, speaking in the calm-but-firm voice I reserved for vendor management.

I was heading back to check on Maya when I nearly collided with Lucas in the hallway outside the bridal suite.

“Sorry,” we said simultaneously, and then stood there, neither moving.

“I was just going to check on Jake,” Lucas...