Maya’s brows pinch. “Really?”
“Maya, no. None of this is true.” I scowl at the phone, as though this is the most absurd thing I’ve ever read. “This is crazy.” I scroll a little. “Hold on. ‘Sources close to Dawson’?” Now that partiscrazy. Who would…
And that’s when the pieces fall together. It’s me. I’m the source close to Dawson. The screenshot of our contract was right in my photos, unlocked, practically waiting for Jennifer to find.
Which means…
Option 1: We go through with the contract. I dump Brody at the reception, make him look like the villain and myself the victim—and prove Jennifer right. It was all fake. Every moment, every touch, every smile. Just actors following a script to the bitter, contractually obligated end.
Option 2: I tell him I love him instead, refuse to follow the script, try to make this real—and we violate the contract. Brody loses his NHL renewal. His career. Everything he’s worked for. And I lose the money that releases me from college debt prison, saves my business, and gives me a real shot at being an author.
Option 3: We come clean together and ride into the sunset, broke and jobless. Perfect.
We’re trapped. Completely, utterly, devastatingly trapped.
“Chloe?” Maya’s voice breaks through my spiral. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I’m okay,” I say, my voice coming out a little higher than normal. I glance at the time, partly for somewhere to look other than her knowing eyes. “You gotta get into your dress. Photos start soon.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” I paste on my best people-pleaser smile. “I guess this is just something I have to get used to dating a celebrity.”
Surprisingly, Maya grins, a breath of relief slipping from her lips. “Welcome to the club, sis.”
The rest of the afternoon goes just as planned. The photographer shows up, snaps some pictures of the bridal party in their robes, the girls waving their mimosas, cheering when Maya steps out in her dress—absolutely stunning. All lace and beading, and a train that goes on for days. Then we head out to the resort’s massive balcony overlooking the lake for a first look, after which Derek and the groomsmen join us for full party photos.
It’s all a blur—a tempest of timelines and simmering anxiety—but we all wind up back in the bridal suite, waiting for the last guests to arrive, and Maya seated beside me, holding my hand.
I can’t tell you which of us needs it more.
Finally, I peek my head into the hall. Everyone is seated, and the musicians are in place. The rest of the wedding party has lined up outside the ceremony space. We’re ready. I give the quartet a thumbs-up, and the music starts playing.
This is it, the point of no return.
I turn back to my sister. “It’s time.”
I help Maya to her feet, place the bouquet in her hands, and escort her to our dad, who’s waiting at the back of the lineup.
The music changes. Derek’s taken his place at the altar.
I move to my place beside the door, my heart hammering as I signal for the wedding party to start walking. The music sweepsover me, swelling as Maya steps up to the door, her eyes already brimming, and looks to me. Waiting.
“Walk slowly. Enjoy it,” I whisper. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze.
And she starts walking.
I step through the door, watching as she makes her way to the altar, but my gaze falls on Brody seated on the aisle. He’s looking past Maya, right at me, smiling that private smile. The one that saysI see you. I choose you. Just a little longer and we can talk.
It might be too late for that.
fifteen
brody
In approximately two hours,this contract between Chloe and me is coming to an end. But I’ve already set my mind on it. I’m not letting her go.
