The hour that followed was excruciating. We moved through the party like actors in a play, standing close but not touching, smiling but never meeting each other's eyes. I accepted congratulations and deflected questions about future plans, all while feeling like I might shatter at any moment.
Garner played his part perfectly—the attentive new husband, his hand occasionally brushing the small of my back, his laugh barely warm enough to be convincing. But I could feel the distance he'd placed between us, the careful wall he'd put up since that night at the resort.
He'd held me like I was precious, like I was everything. Now we were nothing at all to each other. For the millionth time, I wondered if any part of our friendship would survive.
By the time we'd made our way through the crowded living room to the kitchen, I was exhausted from the performance. Kinley cornered us by the granite island, where platters of food were arranged in Instagram-worthy displays.
"So when do we get to hear the full story?" she asked, refilling my wine glass without waiting for an answer. "The elopement, I mean. Everyone's dying to know."
Garner tensed beside me. "Not much to tell, really."
"Oh, come on," Kinley pressed. "You two have been joined at the hip since forever. There has to be a moment when it all changed. When did you know?"
The question hung in the air between us, dangerous and loaded. I opened my mouth to recite our practiced story, but Garner spoke first.
"We've always been close," he said, his voice soft. "But there was this one night, years ago. We were maybe nineteen. Liv had this date with some college guy who stood her up. I found her sitting on her front porch trying not to cry."
My breath caught. This wasn't our fake story. This was a real memory I'd almost forgotten.
"So I took her to dinner instead," he continued, his eyes fixed on some distant point. "Nothing fancy, you know that little Italian place over in Whitefish. And she laughed all night, even though some jerk had just broken her heart. That's when I knew she was the strongest person I'd ever met."
He finally looked at me, something raw and unguarded in his expression. "That's when I knew she was special."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Because the way he'd said it, like he meant every word, made my heart stutter in my chest.
"Was that fake?" I whispered, too quiet for anyone but him to hear.
Before he could answer, a crash from the front of the house broke the moment.
“Kinley!” Miles called out. “Hades thinks he’s joining the party and came through the screen door.”
“That wolf thinks he’s human, doesn’t he?” Kinley offered an apologetic smile then rushed off to do damage control, leaving us alone in the suddenly too-quiet kitchen.
I stepped back, needing distance. "We should do this now. The argument."
Garner's face shuttered, that brief vulnerability gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Here?"
"Semi-private but visible enough." I nodded toward the kitchen doorway, where several people stood within eyesight. "The perfect place to end it."
Something flashed in his eyes. Was it hurt? Anger? I couldn't tell anymore. "Fine. What's our story?"
"Keep it simple. We’ll have a disagreement about where we should live." I lowered my voice, though no one was close enough to hear. "You want to stay in your apartment above the shop. I think we should get a real house. Irreconcilable differences."
"Very believable," he said, mocking me. "No one would ever think we could work that out."
I ignored the sarcasm and steeled myself. "Ready?"
He nodded once, his expression hardening. "Let's get this over with."
I raised my voice just enough to be noticed. "You can't seriously expect me to live above a tattoo shop forever."
Garner matched my tone perfectly, frustration coloring his words. "It's my home, Olivia. Has been for years. I don't see why that has to change because you've suddenly decided you need a picket fence."
"It's not about a picket fence," I countered, crossing my arms. "It's about building a life together. Something you clearly aren't ready for."
Several heads turned our way, whispers already starting. I could feel the attention like a physical weight pressing against my skin.
"Or maybe you're just trying to change me," Garner shot back, his voice colder than I'd ever heard it. "Make me into something I'm not. Something more acceptable."
