Chapter 5

• The stationery samples arrived on a Tuesday.
• Ellis had been expecting a modest envelope. Maybe a small binder.
• Instead, a full box appeared at her door, heavy enough to bruise a toe and marked with Madeline’s name in perfect script.
• Inside: six catalogs, four swatch booklets, a velvet-lined box of envelope closures shaped like wax seals, and a hand-written note that read:
• “Let me know which suite you think works best with the June garden setting. Trust your instincts.”– M
• Ellis read it twice, then dropped onto her living room floor and stared up at the ceiling.
• She trusted her instincts.
• Her instincts told her to get on a plane and not look back.
• “Okay, that’s enough brooding,” Rowan announced, stepping over her body with two iced coffees and dropping a stack of printed catering menus beside her. “You are not allowed to emotionally spiral in sweatpants while surrounded by $12,000 worth of linen cardstock.”
• “Technically, it’s cotton-blend,” Ellis muttered.
• “Even worse.”
• “Beck’s coming over,” Ellis said.
• “Good. He’s the only one patient enough to deal with this curated hellscape.”
• A knock at the door confirmed it.
• Beck stepped inside, already wearing a denim jacket over a soft navy tee, hair tousled from the wind.
• “God, you’re both too pretty,” Rowan muttered, disappearing down the hallway.
• Ellis stood and pointed at the box. “This is our Everest.”
• Beck walked over, opened the lid, and blinked. “Jesus. Is she planning a wedding or summoning royalty?”
• Ellis flopped onto the couch. “I need to narrow it down to three designs.”
• “You’ve got this.”
• “I also have hives.”
• Beck laughed, but gently. He moved to sit beside her, brushing his fingers lightly along the paper textures, reading through the inserts like a scholar. Ellis watched him for a moment—how careful he was. How he never rushed her.
• He picked up one with muted floral embossing and nodded. “This one feels the most like Asher. Clean, warm. Soft green palette. Classic. Doesn’t scream ‘bridezilla.’”
• Ellis grinned. “That’s because Madeline hasn’t seen it yet.”
• They chose the final three together, sliding samples into a portfolio folder with tabs labeled in Ellis’s handwriting.
• When they were done, Beck leaned back, arms behind his head.
• “You’ve got wedding coordination in your blood.”
• “I’ve got suppression in my blood.”
• “You’re doing better than I expected.”
• She glanced at him. “Really?”
• “I figured by now you’d have burned the veil and fled to the coast.”
• “Don’t tempt me.”
• He sobered. “You sure you’re okay?”
• Ellis hesitated, then stood and crossed to her drafting table, pulling a thick folder of wedding sketches from the shelf—floral arrangements, seating charts, outfit doodles, toasts in the margins. Her escape plan and her heartbreak, hand-inked in black.
• “No,” she said honestly. “But I said I’d do this. And I’m going to.”
• Beck didn’t push.
• He just helped her organize everything into labeled envelopes, then stayed late for Chinese takeout and helped glue sample ribbons to mood boards until her fingers were sore.
• 🜲
• By Thursday, Ellis was at Madeline’s condo for the floral consultation.
• The space was pristine. Marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, a minimalist white-and-oak kitchen. There were no smudges, no clutter, no personality.
• Madeline met her at the door in a pale lavender blouse and high-waisted white trousers. She wore no shoes and no visible emotion.
• “Thanks for coming,” she said.
• Ellis offered a neutral smile. “Of course.”
• The florist arrived soon after—a woman named Corinne with a rolling sample cart and a binder of silk replicas. They walked through potential bouquets, centerpieces, altar arches. Ellis nodded at the right moments. Took notes. Pretended she didn’t notice that every time she suggested something, Madeline asked Corinne to rephrase it in “more timeless tones.”
• When Corinne left, Madeline turned to her.
• “I appreciate you being so involved.”
• Ellis nodded. “I want this to be beautiful for you both.”
• Madeline studied her for a long beat. “How long have you been in love with him?”
• Ellis froze.
• She hadn’t said it cruelly. Or emotionally. Just… fact.
• “I’m not,” Ellis lied.
• Madeline didn’t blink. “I’m not asking because I’m jealous.”
• “Then why are you asking?”
• “Because I need to know what kind of story I’m marrying into.”
• Ellis gripped her notepad a little tighter.
• Madeline continued. “You’ve known him longer than anyone. You’ve seen him through more than I have. And I can tell how much he trusts you.”
• Ellis swallowed. “We’re best friends.”
• “I’m not threatened by your history,” Madeline said calmly. “But I’m not naive either. I know what unspoken love looks like.”
• Ellis stood straighter. “Then you also know it doesn’t matter.”
• Madeline tilted her head. “Doesn’t it?”
• “I’m not going to ruin this for you.”
• “Good.”
• The word landed hard.
• 🜲
• That night, Ellis went back to Beck’s apartment and curled up on his couch with a blanket and half a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
• “She asked me,” she said softly.
• Beck paused, setting his laptop aside. “Madeline?”
• “She knows.”
• His jaw ticked. “What did you say?”
• “That I wasn’t in love with him.”
• “And?”
• “She didn’t believe me.”
• “Because it’s a lie.”
• Ellis let out a breath, low and tired. “She thinks I’m a risk.”
• Beck moved to sit beside her. “You’re not a risk. You’re the one thing that’s kept him grounded for ten years.”
• “Then why do I feel like I’m being erased?”
• Beck looked at her like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to pull the words straight out of her chest and make them undeniable.
• But he didn’t.
• Instead, he nudged the ice cream toward her. “Tell me again about Spain.”
• She smiled, fragile. “I’ll find out next week.”
• “And if you get in?”
• “I go.”
• “No hesitation?”
• “None.”
• Beck nodded, slowly. Then whispered, “I hope you do.”
• 🜲
• On Saturday, Ellis stood in a bridal boutique surrounded by blush gowns, floral arches, and mimosas.
• Asher turned toward her in a soft gray suit jacket, laughing over something Jonah had said.
• Their eyes met.
• For one dizzying second, she saw the flicker of concern.
• A question.
• But it passed too quickly. Buried beneath that easy grin.
• And as he crossed the room to drape his arm around Madeline’s shoulders, Ellis turned away.
• And kept turning.
• Until she could no longer see the man she used to dream about loving her back.