Chapter 7

• The boutique was all soft light and hushed voices. Classical music whispered through hidden speakers. Racks of silk and chiffon lined the walls like a watercolor dream. Everything about the space was designed to put you at ease, to make you feel beautiful, important, bridal.
• Ellis wanted to crawl out of her skin.
• “Thanks again for coming,” Madeline said, her voice smooth and poised as she scanned a row of blush-toned gowns. “Jules can’t get here until next month, and it’s easier to have someone with taste help now.”
• Ellis offered her a small smile. “Happy to.”
• She wasn’t.
• But she was trying. Trying to be the best man, the helper, the steady one. Trying to hold it together long enough to survive this ceremony and then vanish into whatever came after. Spain. Obscurity. Anything.
• Madeline didn’t say much as they flipped through gowns together. She wore tailored black trousers, a silk blouse tucked neatly in, and not a single hair out of place. Ellis had shown up in jeans and a cardigan, ink smudged on her wrist from sketching that morning. They looked like two women from two entirely different universes.
• And only one of them was marrying Asher Holt.
• “These are all so... pastel,” Madeline said eventually, pulling a dusty mauve dress from the rack. “I want classic, not Easter brunch.”
• Ellis nodded. “What about champagne tones? Or something with slate undertones? You could do cool neutrals across the party.”
• Madeline considered it. “Slate could work. Might pop more against the garden venue.”
• “I can mock up a palette for you if you want.”
• Madeline glanced at her. “You don’t have to go that far.”
• “It’s no trouble.”
• Madeline hung the dress back and looked at Ellis, really looked. “You’re good at this.”
• Ellis offered a weak smile. “It’s what I do.”
• “No, I mean this. Showing up. Smiling through it. Playing the part.”
• Something in Ellis’s chest twisted. “I want Asher to have a beautiful wedding.”
• “I believe you.”
• They kept browsing.
• And then, slowly, Madeline said it.
• “I want to be honest about something.”
• Ellis stilled.
• Madeline didn’t look at her. She ran her fingers along a silk bodice like she was choosing her words from the fabric itself.
• “After the wedding… I think it’s best if you and Asher take some space.”
• Ellis blinked.
• “I’m not trying to be cruel,” Madeline said before she could respond. “I’m just being clear.”
• “Space,” Ellis repeated.
• Madeline turned to her now, calm and elegant. “Yes. No more late-night texts. No spontaneous calls. No running to each other when something goes wrong. No more... whatever it is you two have.”
• Ellis swallowed. “We’re best friends.”
• “You were,” Madeline corrected gently. “Before me. Before this next part of his life.”
• “I’m still his best man.”
• “And you’ll be wonderful. But once the wedding is done—so is the overlap.”
• Ellis stared at her, pulse roaring in her ears.
• “This isn’t jealousy,” Madeline continued. “This is practicality. Clean boundaries. The kind that protect marriages before they need saving.”
• “You’re asking me to disappear.”
• “I’m asking you to respect what I’m building with him.”
• Ellis stepped back, voice low. “You know how long I’ve been in his life.”
• “Yes,” Madeline said. “And I know how long you’ve been in love with him.”
• Ellis felt the blood drain from her face.
• Madeline didn’t soften. “You’re not just his friend, Ellis. You’re a shadow hanging over every new thing we try to build. I feel it when he talks about you. I see it when you walk into a room.”
• “I’ve never—”
• “I’m not accusing you of crossing lines,” Madeline said. “I’m telling you it doesn’t matter. The way you look at him is enough.”
• Ellis swallowed hard. “And what do you think you’re replacing, exactly?”
• Madeline’s voice was ice-wrapped steel. “Whatever special thing you think you had with him? It’s not irreplaceable. I can be all of it. His partner. His best friend. His first call. His everything. The difference is—I’m not in love with a fantasy of him. I’m building a life with the real version.”
• Ellis couldn’t move.
• “I don’t want a woman who loves my fiancé near him,” Madeline finished. “Not when I’m his wife.”
• Silence fell between them.
• Outside the boutique windows, the sun still shone. The world still spun. But Ellis felt hollowed out. Scooped clean.
• She nodded once. Slowly.
• “If that’s what he wants,” she said, voice cracking only slightly, “then I won’t fight it.”
• Madeline blinked. “He doesn’t know I’m asking.”
• That landed harder than anything else.
• Ellis stared at her. “So you’re making the decision for him.”
• “I’m making the choice he won’t,” Madeline said. “He’s too loyal. Too sentimental. He’ll never cut you out on his own. But it’s what’s best.”
• Ellis exhaled shakily.
• “Then let him say it.”
• “What?”
• “When the time comes—if this is really what he wants—he can be the one to tell me.”
• Madeline’s gaze didn’t waver. “You won’t force his hand.”
• “No,” Ellis said. “But I won’t disappear because you asked. Not until he does.”
• They stood there, the air taut between them.
• Then Madeline turned away, selected a slate-blue gown from the rack, and held it up.
• “This one’s nice. Try it on.”
• 🜲
• The gown fit like a second skin.
• Ellis stood in front of the mirror, the cool gray silk hugging her hips, the neckline soft and romantic. She looked beautiful.
• Wrong. But beautiful.
• Madeline appeared behind her in the reflection, arms crossed.
• “It suits you,” she said.
• Ellis didn’t answer.
• Because what was the point?
• 🜲
• Later, she returned to Beck’s with the dress zipped in a plastic garment bag over her shoulder.
• She didn’t say anything when he opened the door. Just stepped inside, dropped the bag on the couch, and collapsed into his arms like she might fall apart if she didn’t anchor herself somewhere.
• He didn’t ask what happened.
• He just held her.