The next week tightened around deadlines.
Not emotionally structurally.
Wedding timelines firmed. Vendor confirmations stacked. Nitika's emails came clipped and efficient, Brandon's texts increasingly peppered with exclamation points he would later pretend were accidental. Fast Track felt it too, the subtle shift that came when personal milestones began pressing against professional calendars.
Brinley didn't resist it.
She adjusted.
At the studio, she reworked schedules to account for absences, delegated without apology, and set boundaries early instead of correcting late. The business responded the way it always did , by holding. By trusting her judgment without requiring justification.
Jaxson noticed.
Not because she announced it. Because he watched patterns.
"You're building in buffer time," he said one afternoon, reviewing the updated workflow.
"Yes."
"For the wedding?"
"For everything," she replied. "No one does their best work under compression."
He nodded, absorbing it. "I'll mirror it on operations."
No debate. No ego.
They continued like that , parallel, aligned, separate where they needed to be.
Her parents came by the studio midweek.
Not announced as a visit. Not framed as oversight. Just present, curious, observant. Her father lingered near the wall where framed records hung, reading plaques slowly. Her mother watched Brinley move through conversations, noticed who deferred, who waited, who listened.
Afterward, as they stood near the entrance, her mother said quietly, "You're very much in command here."
Brinley didn't deflect. "I should be."
Her mother smiled , not tightly, not approvingly. Something closer to respect.
"I can see why people stay."
So could Brinley.
The real test came Friday evening.
A session ran late. A vendor issue surfaced for the wedding that Brandon didn't want to handle alone. Her mother texted about seating concerns. Three pulls. All reasonable. All immediate.
Brinley stood in her office doorway, weighing the order , not of importance, but of responsibility.
Jaxson appeared beside her, keys in hand.
"You don't have to decide everything right now," he said calmly. "What's the non-negotiable?"
She considered it. "The artist. They're paying for tonight."
"Then I'll take Brandon," he said. "He needs solutions, not stress."
She looked at him. Not surprised , just checking alignment.
"And your parents?" he added.
"I'll handle them tomorrow."
He nodded. "Good plan."
No rescue. No sacrifice.Later, when the building finally quieted, Brinley stepped outside into the cooling night. Jaxson was already there, leaning against the wall, phone dark in his hand.
"All good?" he asked.
"All handled," she said.They stood for a moment, the city humming around them, the weight of the week present but contained.
"This works," she said finally.
He didn't answer immediately. Not because he was searching for words , because he didn't need to add to them.
"It does," he said.Brinley drove home with the certainty settling deeper this time. Nothing in her life was light right now , not the wedding, not her family, not the business, not whatever she and Jaxson were becoming.
But everything was supported.
And she knew exactly where she was standing.