Brody
The words hang in the air between us.
“What?” Her voice is small. Broken.
“You have to break it off. Now.” I step back—creating distance that feels like miles.
Chloe blinks at me, eyes watery and brimming. “No.”
“Chloe—”
“You just told me you love me.” Her voice cracks, and I die a little inside. “I’m not going to break up with you just because some contract says I’m supposed to.”
She walks away from me, back toward the reception hall doors.
“Chloe, wait?—”
But she’s already gone, disappearing through the doors into the reception.
I stand there for a moment, alone in the hallway. The ghost of our kiss still lingering in the air. The weight of what I’m about to do crushing my chest.
Then I follow her.
The reception is in full swing when I walk back in. Music playing, guests laughing, fairy lights overhead making everything look soft and romantic. Maya and Derek’s perfect wedding, exactly as planned.
Chloe is across the room, talking to a waiter near the dessert table. She’s gesturing to the cake station, pointing at something, her coordinator persona firmly in place.
But I can see the tension in her shoulders. The way she’s not quite looking at anyone. The slight tremor in her hands.
I watch as she tells the waiter something about the chocolate fountain running low. He nods, hurries away. She turns to adjust a napkin display that doesn’t need adjusting.
Avoiding me.
I head back to my table and sit down. It feels like the penalty box.
Conrad looks at me. Then at Chloe across the room. Then back at me.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Great,” I lie.
The DJ’s voice cuts through the noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, the dance floor is now open! Let’s celebrate Derek and Maya!”
The music starts, kicking off the dance floor with a classic. “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang.
And I wait. Chloe keeps herself busy, focuses on coordination tasks, grabbing Derek and Maya more drinks, keeping tabs on the dessert station. She even stops at a random table to grab empty plates before handing them off to one of the catering staff. Anything to avoid the inevitable.
Because that’s what this is. Inevitable.
I won’t let her lose everything.
A handful of songs play out while I’m stuck on the sideline. But then the lights change. The strobing flashes of green and pink and yellow fade out, washing over the dance floor with blue.
“It’s time to slow things down a little,” the DJ says. “Let’s get all our sweethearts out there for this one.”
The music starts up again, the unmistakable voice of Elvis crooning through the hall.
“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”
