Chapter 2

• Present Day – The Morning After the Text
• Ellis had lived through some truly bad mornings in her life.
• There was the time she accidentally emailed a topless sketch to a children’s book publisher. The week her favorite ramen place closed. The Thanksgiving she discovered her mom had been secretly dating her ex-boyfriend’s father.
• But this morning? This one clawed its way straight to the top.
• It wasn’t just the low ache behind her eyes or the dried paint under her fingernails or the familiar smell of cat litter wafting from her roommate’s hallway diffuser.
• It was the silence.
• Because the text Asher sent at 2:03 AM had yet to be followed by a call.
• And the longer he waited, the worse her stomach churned.
• Ellis stood barefoot in her kitchen, aggressively stabbing at a bruised avocado while the kettle whistled like it had something personal against her.
• Rowan walked in, bleary-eyed, wrapped in a black silk robe with “Witch, Please” embroidered across the back.
• “Why are you maiming produce like it insulted your uterus?” she asked around a yawn.
• Ellis didn’t look up. “Asher texted me last night.”
• Rowan stilled. “What’d he say?”
• “Big news. Call you when you’re awake. You’re gonna lose it.”
• “Ominous,” Rowan muttered, pouring herself coffee. “Think he finally figured out he’s in love with you and wrote a sonnet?”
• Ellis threw her a look.
• “Kidding,” Rowan said, but her expression softened. “Maybe it’s a job thing. He’s been trying to get that museum project, right?”
• “Maybe,” Ellis lied, though her chest was already heavy with something far more specific. Something sharp.
• She knew Asher.
• He never waited this long to share good news.
• If it were a job, he’d have sent a voice memo. If it were something stupid like getting free pizza for a year, he’d have FaceTimed her from the restaurant. But this? This delay?
• It was personal.
• Her phone vibrated on the counter like a warning shot.
• Asher Holt: You up?
• Ellis stared at it like it might explode.
• Rowan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna answer?”
• “I am,” she said. Then didn’t move.
• After a long pause, she exhaled, picked it up, and texted back: Call me.
• The screen lit up less than five seconds later.
• She answered on the second ring, heart galloping.
• “Morning, Hart,” he said, and just like that, her knees weakened.
• Damn his voice.
• Damn his warmth, his ease, his perfect ability to act like nothing ever hurt her.
• “Morning,” she said, forcing her tone light. “What’s the big life-altering news?”
• A pause.
• Then:
• “I’m getting married.”
• Ellis went still.
• Time warped—like she was falling, but her body forgot how to hit the floor.
• Married.
• The word looped, hot and jagged.
• “Wow,” she managed. “That’s… fast.”
• “It’s not that fast,” he said, misreading her tone. “It’s been eight months.”
• Eight months.
• She hadn’t even known he was seriously seeing anyone. He’d mentioned someone named Madeline once or twice, sure. But with Asher, that didn’t mean anything. He had a new “I like her” every other month.
• “Wow,” she said again, because her brain couldn’t do anything else. “So… you proposed?”
• “Last night.”
• “And she said yes.”
• He laughed. “Obviously.”
• Right. Of course.
• Because no one said no to Asher Holt.
• Ellis felt the smile crack on her face, pieces of it falling silently into her coffee.
• “I’m happy for you,” she said, though the lie felt acidic.
• “Thanks,” he said warmly. “You’re the first person I called.”
• She blinked, heart twisting in her chest.
• “Really?”
• “Of course. I mean—Jonah and Beck were there when I did it. But you’re—you’re my person, Hart. Always have been.”
• Her throat closed.
• Always have been.
• But not in the way that mattered.
• “Anyway,” he continued, oblivious, “that’s not all. I wanted to ask you something.”
• Ellis braced herself, already dizzy.
• “Will you be my best man?”
• Silence stretched.
• A beat. Then another.
• And then a laugh—raw, sharp, too loud.
• “You want me… to be your best man?”
• “Yeah,” he said. “Why is that funny?”
• Because it’s not funny, she thought. It’s cruel.
• Because I’ve been in love with you for years and now I get to help you marry someone else. Dress up, make toasts, plan your bachelor party like I’m not bleeding inside.
• But she couldn’t say that.
• So she cleared her throat. “Sorry. It just… caught me off guard.”
• “I get it,” he said. “But honestly, I couldn’t imagine doing it without you. You know me better than anyone. You’re—”
• “—your person,” she finished quietly.
• He laughed. “Exactly.”
• Ellis smiled through it. “Of course I’ll do it.”
• Rowan, standing across the kitchen, mouthed what the fuck at her.
• Ellis gave her a thumbs-up and promptly ended the call.
• Then she sat down on the cold tile floor and didn’t move.
• 🜲
• By the end of the week, the group had officially reconvened at a rooftop bar to celebrate the engagement.
• Asher was glowing. Madeline was poised. And Ellis was dying in a strapless dress she never would’ve picked for herself.
• Jonah slapped her on the back. “You good?”
• “Peachy.”
• “You look like someone just told you Gilmore Girls was getting a reboot starring Jake Paul.”
• Ellis rolled her eyes. “Just hot.”
• Jonah glanced toward Asher and Madeline, who were mid-cuddle at the edge of the terrace. “Or just gutted?”
• “Don’t start.”
• He held up his hands. “Not judging. Just—damn, Hart. This one’s rough.”
• She sipped her drink. “I’m fine. I said yes. I’m doing this.”
• Beck appeared beside her a moment later, quiet as always. “You shouldn’t have said yes.”
• “I had to.”
• “No, you didn’t.”
• “If I said no, he would’ve asked someone else.”
• “Yeah. And?”
• Ellis looked away. “I need to do this. I need to prove it doesn’t matter.”
• “But it does.”
• She didn’t answer. Just watched Asher laugh into Madeline’s neck like it was the easiest thing in the world.
• Madeline turned a second later, eyes scanning the crowd—then landing on her.
• Ellis froze.
• The look was subtle. Polite. But sharp as a blade.
• And just like that, she knew.
• Madeline could tell.
• Maybe not everything.
• But enough.