His smirk deepened. “Shoe crisis?”
“Listen,” I huffed, stepping forward as casually as humanly possible, “some of us don’t have the luxury of perfectly coordinated footwear at all times.”
His laugh was warm as he pulled me in for a quick half-hug, careful with his left side. “You’re way past the fashionably late window, you know,” he teased, stepping back to let me in.
“I know,” I groaned, throwing up my hands. “Clinicals ran over. Two students had a million questions, and I couldn’t exactly sneak out early.”
“I get you.” He shrugged, leading me inside. “Fiona won’t give a shit.”
“I’m hoping.”
As I stepped through the foyer, the warm scent of catered food mixed with the faintest trace of expensive cologne and a lingering woodsy candle. The space was sprawling but somehow still homey, decorated with soft golden lights and laughter echoing from the back patio.
And then I saw my friend.
Standing by the patio doors, radiant and so damn happy, her arm looped through Gideon’s, her face glowing with that rare kind of joy that made my heart squeeze. She was my closest friend—and I didn’t have many.
“Fi!” I called, pushing through the small crowd gathered around them.
She turned, and the second her eyes landed on me, her face lit up. No hesitation—she left Gideon’s side and barreled toward me, wrapping me in a full-body hug.
I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing her in, grounding myself. The knot in my chest loosened, if only for a second. Fiona had always been that for me—a safe place, a reminder that I wasn’t as alone as I sometimes felt. But the pressure twisted right alongside the relief. Being here, being in her wedding, meant I was supposed to show up, be reliable, be the kind of friend she deserved. And that? That had never been my strong suit.
I’d let people down before. Too many times. My life was a disaster zone of unfinished plans and burned bridges, and yet somehow, Fiona still saw me as worthy of standing beside her on her biggest day. The need to not screw that up sat heavy on my chest.
“Sorry I’m late,” I mumbled into her hair, guilt creeping into my voice.
She pulled back just enough to roll her eyes and wave me off. “Shut up. School is more important. I’m just glad you’re here at all.”
Her words should have made me feel better. Instead, they just made the pressure settle deeper in my bones.
“Me too.” I gave her another quick squeeze, then stepped back. “Fingers crossed they actually let me off for the wedding.”
Her smile faltered. “Michelle?—”
“I’ll figure it out,” I promised before she could stress. “For now, congrats, Fiona. I’m so happy for you and Gideon.”
Her cheeks flushed a little, and she glanced back at her fiancé, something unbearably soft in her expression. “Thank you.”
“Now,” she added, stepping back and motioning toward the food table, “help yourself. As much as you want. Gid invited some teammates, and they eat like animals. I saved you a plate.”
“You’re my favorite,” I said, meaning it.
I waved at Gideon, giving him a polite nod before my gaze flickered toward the small group of towering men gathered around the patio. The energy shifted.
One guy stood with his back to me, broad-shouldered, deep in conversation with a familiar face I’d seen on billboards.
Something in my body knew before my mind even caught up.
A slow, creeping awareness crawled up my spine, settling at the base of my neck.
Light brown hair that curled at the end. That stance. Those shoulders.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
