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And then, Nika Mühl fleeing the scene like she’s abandoning a crime she wants absolutely no part of. Akin to how she’d often abandon Paige in Ted’s during their college years instead of getting roped into her shenanigans. 

Paige looks around desperately, as if the room will offer answers. All she sees is a lonely leather sectional, a loveseat, and the Timberwolves versus Nuggets game playing above the fireplace. The Nuggets are up twenty in the fourth quarter. Tragic, but it’s only game two of the semi-finals, and not enough to justify Azzi Fudd crying in the middle of the room.

She checks the windows next. Guests gathering along the shore of the lake. No natural disaster, no rogue tidal wave, no lightning-struck arch smoldering in the sand. Everyone out there looks thrilled. No one is screaming or running for cover.

Which leaves only one explanation. One horrible, stomach-dropping explanation.

Something is wrong with Azzi.

Paige turns back to her. And God—she looks beautiful. She always looks beautiful, but today she is something else entirely.

Paige feels guilty immediately for thinking it. There are tears streaming down Azzi’s face. That matters more.

“Az… what’s wrong? What happened?” Paige asks quietly, terrified of the answer.

Azzi’s bottom lip trembles, but there’s no answer. Just more tears.

Paige’s heart snaps clean in half. She steps forward and pulls Azzi into her arms, holding her tight. 

“Please talk to me,” she whispers into her mess of curls. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t fix it.”

The words hit Azzi like a punch to the gut. She’s heard them before.

“P, I need you,” Azzi chokes out, already regretting hitting the call button.

“What’s wrong, Az?” Paige’s voice comes fast, panicked. She must hear the tears even before Azzi speaks. There’s nothing on the other end except soft, broken whimpers, and Paige instantly knows it’s bad. Azzi rarely lets her guard down like this, especially after what happened.

“Azzi,” Paige tries again, gentler. “Talk to me. If you don’t talk to me, I can’t fix whatever’s wrong.”

“You… you can’t fix it,” Azzi sobs.

“Az,” Paige pleads now, “what’s going on?”

There’s a long pause, then a whisper.

“My knee.”

Paige’s breath catches. “What?”

“My knee,” Azzi repeats, barely audible. “I tore my ACL in pickup today.”

Paige goes quiet for a few seconds, and then she sighs. Azzi can practically read her thoughts just from that. It’s grief mixed with fear, and wrapped in a neat little bow with the knowledge that absolutely everything has just changed.

Azzi can’t stand the silence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called—”

“Where are you going to be for surgery?” Paige interrupts without a beat of hesitation. “I’ll fly in.”

Azzi freezes. Of all the responses she expected, that wasn’t it. After the fight they had last time Paige visited her in Minnesota, and the way things ended, she didn’t even know if Paige would even answer the call. She certainly didn’t picture Paige offering to fly across the country to be there for her.

“I’m flying back to D.C. tomorrow morning. Surgery is probably in a week.”

“I’ll be there,” Paige says, voice steady. “Just… keep your head up, Az.”

Azzi swallows. “Thanks, Paige. I… I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The memory crushes Azzi as Paige holds her tighter now. Azzi wants to disappear. She wishes she had never stepped out here, never opened her mouth, never walked herself into this exact moment.

Paige pulls back finally, impossibly blue eyes searching hers, worry carved into every line on her forehead.

“Talk to me, Az. Please.”

Azzi tries to think—of excuses, escapes, anything. But Paige’s ocean eyes are soft and trusting, and this is the last thing she wants to ruin.

She’s seconds from speaking when the door behind them bursts open.

“Paige! We’ve gotta get this boutonniere pinned on ya,” KK calls cheerfully, dress sleeves rolled up and completely unaware of the emotional nuclear meltdown occurring two feet away.

She takes one look at the two of them—Paige in shock, Azzi in tears—and freezes.

“Uh. I’ll just… yeah. Fifteen minutes!” she squeaks before retreating and slamming the door to the bridal suite shut.

Paige blows out a nervous breath, then turns back. Her sweaty palms drag across her thighs, drying them. 

“We’ve only got a few minutes,” she says, voice trembling. “You’re scaring me. Is everything okay?”

“No,” Azzi whispers, head dropping. “It’s not.”

Paige’s heart stops. She knew something was off. She felt the sense of dread creeping in all day, but she convinced herself it was nerves, not… this. 

Whatever this even was.

“Oh my god,” her voice cracks as she stares hard into Azzi’s face. “I’m not getting married today, am I?”

The devastation in Paige’s eyes shatters Azzi. And something in her breaks too, because Paige looks terrified. And betrayed. And so, so small. And Azzi is the cause of all of it. 

Azzi’s panic erupts.

“No—that’s not…" she sighs, willing herself to just spit the words out. “I can’t be here, P. I can’t do this.”

The words fly out sharp and messy and all wrong. She winces, wishing she could claw them back but there already out there, burrowing under the blonde’s skin.

Paige’s jaw drops, disbelieving. “Wha… what?”

Her voice falters, eyes scanning Azzi’s face like she’s begging for a different message.

Azzi can’t look at her. She doesn’t have a different message to deliver. That one was hard enough. 

Paige exhales hard once, then again. The silence stretches too long, before Paige snaps her head back up.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t be here’?” Paige hisses. Her voice is low at first, trembling with hurt, but then it explodes. “This wedding has been planned for a year, Azzi. A fucking year.” She doesn’t even care who hears. “You better have a damn good reason for bailing today and leaving me—me—to explain to everyone why you’re not out there with me!”

Azzi’s tears pour faster. She feels nauseous, mentally calculating how far she is from the nearest garbage can in case she needs to hurl. She feels cornered and horrified and wishing she could take the last ten minutes back. Because despite it all, Paige is her person and the last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt her.

“Oh no,” Paige snarls, voice cracking. “No. You don’t get to cry, Az. You don’t get to be upset. Not today. This is…” She throws her hands out indignantly. “This is bullshit!”

“Paige, please,” Azzi whispers. “Please keep your voice down.”

But Paige is incensed. 

“Fuck being quiet.” She steps closer, fury burning through her sadness. “You said yes. Do you remember that? I asked you, and you said yes. No one forced you. No one put a gun to your head. So why the hell are you doing this?”

Azzi can barely breathe. She has seconds—literal seconds—to say it, or she’ll lose her nerve forever. She pulls in a trembling breath, gathering up all the ounces of courage she failed to have when it really mattered.

“Because I’m in love with you,” she cries out, voice breaking, “and I can’t stand up there and watch you marry her!”

The world goes silent.