I step closer to him, eyes locked on his face, daring him to lie to me again.
“Ansel said you weren’t on the couch either. She leaves early on Fridays, and you weren’t here.”
I cross my arms slowly, the movement deliberate. Controlled. Even if I feel like I’m unraveling inside.
“Want to try again?”
He takes one large step back, creating space between us. His hands drag through his too-long hair, pushing it from his face like that will somehow give him the words.
“Fine,” he says. “I slept at my apartment last night. After the cake fight… I just thought we both needed space. To cool off.”
I stare at him.Dumbfounded.
“Your apartment?” My voice is quiet, stunned. “Donovan… thisisyour apartment. This is yourhome.”
And just like that, the confusion is gone—replaced by pure, boiling rage.
“Wait—you still have your apartment?”
It hits me all at once. The lies are in the silence. The secret he never bothered to tell me.
“You’re telling me you’re having your cake and eating it too?” I hiss. “You wanted to live with me, so you moved in. Youwanted to marry me—and now we’re months away from that happening.”
I turn away, shaking. My feet carry me to the living room window—the one place in this apartment that usually calms me down.
The view is breathtaking. But the drop below it?
Unforgiving.
I press my hand to the glass and breathe in slowly.
“Are you having second thoughts, Donovan?” I whisper. “If this isn’t what you want… ifI’mnot what you want anymore—just say it.”
My voice is barely audible. Fragile, but firm.
“Don’t promise me forever if you’re ready to burn it to ash.”
Stella
Donovan and I never did finish that fight; we sat angry for a while, and it turned into makeup sex.
Now hesitation and doubt settle deep into my soul.
My instincts aren’t quiet. I just bury them under love and wedding checklists.
I play the part of a smiling bride-to-be. My mom and Vanessa flew in so we can all go wedding dress shopping and spend time together.
We make our way to Cold Brew Confessional, lattes, and croissants in our hands.Fleur Noire Atelieris just a few blocks north,so we decided to walk and enjoy the cool air.
Liliane Vexin is standing at the door when we walk in. Embracing my mother in a long hug and kissing her cheeks in greeting.
They stroll down memory lane like it’s paved in silk, and then my mother introduces everyone. Liliane Vexin and she were cheerleaders together in high school.
Liliane asks me a few questions and then personally picks out a few dresses that she feels match my aesthetic.
I’ve tried on four dresses. Four.
Each one more white, more ruffly, more not-me than the last.
