Chapter 6

• Saturday morning came with sun-streaked skies and the scent of spring riding the breeze. Ellis stood outside a downtown tailor shop, her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, trying not to feel like she was waiting for something bigger than just a fitting appointment.
• She wasn’t sure why Asher had insisted she come alone. “No Madeline, no Jonah,” he’d said on the phone. “Just you and me. Like old times.”
• Old times.
• The phrase lodged somewhere between her ribs.
• A moment later, he appeared, sliding out of a black Jeep with that stupidly charming grin that hadn’t aged a day.
• He looked relaxed. Happy. Dressed in jeans and a gray Henley that clung to his shoulders in ways she refused to acknowledge.
• “There she is,” he said, pulling her into a one-armed hug that smelled like cedarwood and memory.
• “You’re late,” she teased.
• “You’re always early,” he countered.
• They smiled at each other for half a beat too long before Ellis cleared her throat and turned toward the glass doors.
• Inside, the boutique was sleek, upscale, and aggressively polished. The kind of place where champagne was served before noon and every price tag was tucked discreetly away from emotional damage.
• “Are you sure you want me to help with this?” Ellis asked as they were led to a private back room with velvet stools and mirrors in every direction. “I’m not exactly the poster child for high fashion.”
• Asher shrugged. “You’re the best man. This is your job.”
• “And Madeline doesn’t want to be here?”
• “She said I should handle this part. Groom vibes or something.”
• Ellis raised a brow.
• “I think she secretly knows I’d pick something navy with sneakers if left to my own devices.”
• “You would.”
• “Which is why I need you.”
• He grinned at her, and for one blissful moment, it felt like nothing had changed.
• They spent the next hour trying on suit combinations, debating lapel widths, and arguing over pocket squares versus boutonnières. Asher modeled half a dozen options, making faces in the mirror and spinning for effect.
• “Please stop twirling,” Ellis said, laughing.
• “I feel like a prince.”
• “You look like a discount prince.”
• “You wound me.”
• She smiled, but her chest was already too tight.
• When he stepped out in the final option—deep slate gray, slim fit, crisp white shirt underneath—it hit her like a punch. He looked perfect. Like someone’s forever.
• Just… not hers.
• Asher caught her expression in the mirror. “Too much?”
• “No,” she said quietly. “It’s just right.”
• They checked out with custom orders, scheduled final fittings, and left the boutique with iced coffees in hand. The sidewalk outside shimmered with sunlight, and Asher motioned for her to follow him down the street.
• “I figured we could walk a bit,” he said. “Haven’t really hung out just us lately.”
• Ellis nodded, grateful and heartbroken all at once.
• They walked in easy silence for a few blocks, feet syncing without trying, shoulders brushing when people passed. It reminded her of college. Of late nights after parties. Of afternoons in art halls and takeout picnics.
• “I miss this,” Asher said suddenly.
• Ellis looked over. “What?”
• “You. Me. No schedules. No pressure.”
• “You’re getting married, Ash. Pressure is kind of the whole deal.”
• He winced, but not harshly. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t think it would change everything.”
• She didn’t say what she wanted to: It already has.
• They crossed to a park bench and sat under the shade of an old oak tree, coffee cups sweating in their hands.
• Asher leaned back, looking up at the branches above them. “So you applied for that residency.”
• Ellis didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”
• “You didn’t say anything.”
• “I wasn’t sure I’d go through with it.”
• “Why now?”
• The question was gentle. Curious. Not accusing.
• Ellis hesitated. “Because I needed something that was mine. Something that wasn’t about you or the wedding or anyone else.”
• He nodded slowly. “You find out soon?”
• “Next week.”
• “How long would you be gone?”
• “Three months.”
• “And when would you leave?”
• She looked at him then. Watched his expression shift as she answered:
• “June fifth.”
• His brow furrowed.
• The math hit him.
• Five days before the wedding.
• “Shit,” he breathed.
• Ellis nodded, bracing herself.
• “You’d miss the whole thing.”
• “I would.”
• Silence.
• It was heavier now. Not angry. But stunned.
• He looked at her with a new expression—something searching. Something uneasy.
• “Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked quietly.
• “I was,” she said. “I am.”
• “And if you get in…?”
• “I’ll still help you until the moment I leave. I’ll make sure everything’s perfect, Ash. Whether I stay or go.”
• He didn’t speak.
• She turned toward him, heart beating hard. “I’m not bailing. I’m not disappearing in the middle of this. But I can’t keep putting everything on hold just to prove I’m okay.”
• Asher looked down at his hands.
• “I didn’t realize you felt like that.”
• “That’s kind of the point.”
• He met her gaze again.
• And something in his face—just for a second—cracked.
• “I don’t want you to go.”
• Ellis blinked. “What?”
• “I mean—I get it. I do. I’m proud of you. But…”
• He trailed off.
• But what?
• But I’m scared?
• But I need you?
• But I’m not ready to lose the one person who knows all the versions of me?
• He didn’t say any of it.
• He just sat there, jaw tense, hands clenched around his coffee cup.
• Ellis stood slowly. “You’re getting married, Asher.”
• His eyes snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
• “It means you have someone now. Someone who gets to come first.”
• He stood too. “You’ve always come first.”
• “Not anymore,” she said gently. “And that’s okay. It should be that way. I just need to figure out who I am without you.”
• He didn’t follow her when she turned.
• Didn’t say her name.
• Didn’t try to stop her.
• But she felt his eyes on her the entire walk back to her apartment.
• And she wondered—if just for a second—whether he’d finally started to understand.