Chapter 3

• The rooftop glowed under a canopy of string lights, golden warmth casting soft halos around each table. Laughter rippled through the group in waves, carried on the breeze with the scent of jasmine and champagne. Someone passed out party poppers. Jonah accidentally set one off in Beck’s ear. Nico was arguing with a waiter about the definition of “light ice.”
• Ellis stayed back.
• She kept her fingers curled loosely around a cocktail glass she hadn’t touched in twenty minutes, her other hand tucked under her arm like she needed something to anchor her to the moment. Her eyes flicked across the space, unseeingly cataloging strangers, silverware, napkins, anything except what was coming.
• And then—Asher’s voice.
• “Ellis, hey—c’mere. I want you to meet her.”
• Her throat dried.
• She turned.
• Asher stood a few feet away, smiling. His hand was around a woman’s waist—gently, instinctively. A touch Ellis had never received, not even in jest. Not like this.
• Madeline Quinn.
• And God help her, she was gorgeous.
• Tall, elegant, draped in a satin emerald green dress that clung like it had been poured on. Dark blond hair in a sleek twist, collarbones dusted with highlighter, long lashes framing eyes the color of expensive whiskey. Her smile wasn’t quite cold—it was perfectly polite.
• Poised.
• Unshakable.
• And completely unreadable.
• Ellis swallowed and stepped forward.
• “Asher’s told me so much about you,” Madeline said, extending her hand.
• Her voice was smooth. Soft. But there was something too perfect about it. Like she’d practiced every syllable before letting it out.
• “I hope only the good things,” Ellis said, forcing a grin as she took her hand.
• Madeline’s fingers were cool and dry. Her grip was firm.
• Asher beamed. “Ellis is basically my other half. You’ll love her.”
• Something flickered across Madeline’s face—so quick Ellis almost missed it. But it was there. The faintest tightening around her mouth.
• “I’m sure I will,” she said smoothly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Asher talks about you constantly.”
• Ellis nodded, trying not to let her discomfort show. “Likewise. He, uh… talks about you too.”
• Madeline’s gaze sharpened just a degree. Not enough to call out. But enough to feel.
• “I wanted to ask you something,” she said. “About the wedding.”
• “Oh?”
• “Well, now that you’re the best man…”
• Ellis could almost hear the quotation marks.
• “…I figured it might be good for us to connect. There’s a lot to coordinate.”
• “Of course,” Ellis said quickly, her best fake cheer sliding into place like armor. “Anything you need.”
• Madeline tilted her head. “Are you good with events?”
• “I’ve done a few gallery openings. Some branding launches. Helped plan Nico’s 25th.”
• “Where he set a plastic flamingo on fire in the pool?” Asher added helpfully.
• Ellis snorted. “In fairness, that wasn’t in the original schedule.”
• Madeline didn’t laugh. “Right.”
• Silence fell for a beat too long.
• Then: “Well, we’re thinking summer, probably early June. Outdoor venue. Classic, but not stuffy.”
• “Sounds beautiful.”
• “It will be,” Madeline said. Then, almost offhand: “And it’ll be a big bridal party. Lots of moving parts.”
• Ellis nodded, sensing the subtext but refusing to flinch. “I’m happy to help however I can.”
• “I’ll email you some ideas. And a list.”
• “Of course.”
• “I want everything seamless. Efficient.”
• “Absolutely.”
• Madeline smiled. “Good.”
• She took a sip of her drink, eyes flicking back to Asher. Her hand found his again.
• And just like that, the conversation was over.
• 🜲
• Ellis slipped away to the far end of the terrace twenty minutes later, pretending to take photos of the skyline for her Instagram story when really she just needed to breathe.
• Rowan found her five minutes after that, two tequila shots balanced between her fingers.
• “Drink,” she said, offering one.
• Ellis took it without question.
• Rowan clinked their glasses together and downed hers in one go. “So? How was it?”
• “Fine.”
• “Don’t bullshit me. Did she shake your hand like you had cooties?”
• “No,” Ellis said, smiling faintly. “She was… perfect. Beautiful. Polite. Cold.”
• “Sounds like a dentist’s office.”
• “She asked me about wedding logistics.”
• “And how did you do?”
• “I smiled. I offered to help. I said all the right things.”
• Rowan studied her for a moment, then leaned in.
• “Was she looking at you?”
• “What do you mean?”
• “Did she look at you like she knew?”
• Ellis hesitated.
• “…A little.”
• Rowan’s lips pressed together. “Then she does.”
• 🜲
• Later that night, after everyone had left and the city had gone quiet, Ellis sat on her apartment’s fire escape with a glass of wine and her sketchbook balanced on one knee.
• She didn’t draw.
• She didn’t cry either.
• She just stared out at the skyline, heart beating too fast, too loud, too raw.
• There were words she wanted to say. Lines she wanted to speak into the dark.
• You don’t know what it’s like to love someone who never once saw you as an option.To be asked to help him marry someone else like it’s some kind of honor.To pretend, every day, that this friendship isn’t breaking you open.
• But those weren’t words you got to say when you were just the best man.
• She closed the sketchbook without making a mark.
• 🜲
• The next morning, a neatly formatted email hit her inbox.
• Subject Line: WEDDING PLANNING – BEST MAN TASKS
• From: Madeline Quinn
• There was a spreadsheet.
• There were attachments.
• There was even a color palette.
• Ellis stared at it for a long time.
• Then opened a new tab and typed into the search bar:
• overseas art residency deadlines 2025