“I’m saying…” He pauses. “Tonight at the reception, you need to convince people that your love is real—so real there’s no way this article can be true. And then you need to break up and make that look real too.”
The words hang in the air like smoke.
“I’m not breaking up with her.”
“You don’t have to.She’ssupposed to break up with you. That’s what the clause says.”
From inside the ceremony area, I hear applause. The vows are done. Maya and Derek are married.
The end is near.
I hear Rick let out a sigh. “Do you love this woman?”
The question stops me cold. “Yes.”
“Then don’t kill your future. Or hers.” His voice softens. “I know this isn’t what you want. But sometimes, protecting someone means making the hard choice. Even if it breaks your heart. You need to fulfill the contract as specified. That means making sure this breakup is believable. Make everyone see that you love her—really love her—and then let her break your heart. That’s the only way you both come out of this intact.”
He hangs up.
Inside, music is starting play, and any moment, the newlyweds will come bursting through that door.
The choice is obvious. Terrible, but obvious.
I have to let her break up with me tonight.
Or more accurately—I have tomakeher break up with me.
And then I have to hope—pray, really—that in thirty days, after I’ve ghosted her, after the media buzz has died down and we’re allowed to “reconcile,” she’ll forgive me. She’ll understand. She’ll take me back.
I feel like my father. Taking a gamble and losing. Except the stakes aren’t money or pride—they’re the woman I love and any chance we had at a real future together.
Best performance of my life. Here we go.
CHLOE
This morning, I woke up in Brody Kane’s arms thinking maybe we had a chance.
Now I’m hiding behind an ice sculpture at my sister’s wedding, trying to avoid eye contact with him while simultaneously wondering if there’s any possible way out of the disaster we’re both trapped in.
Brody is standing near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, chatting with his teammate, Tyler, looking unfairly good, gesturing with a glass in a way that suggests he’s telling a story. Our eyes meet across the terrace.
I panic.
I nearly take out a server as I crouch-run through the crowd and duck behind the bar. In hindsight, it wasn’t my best moment.
“Can I help you, miss?” the bartender asks, a pretty redhead in a black button-up uniform.
“Oh no, I’m just hiding from the man who’s probably the love of my life so that I can avoid making decisions that could alter the course of our entire lives, possibly ruining them if I make the wrong one.”
The bartender raises a brow, her gaze skittering over the crowd. “Mr. Handsome, gray suit, chatting near the windows?”
“That’s him.”
She nods. Pours a glass of wine and hands it to me under the bar. “Stay strong, babe.”
There’s no time to enjoy my drink, however, because moments later, someone clamps onto my elbow, hauling me out from below the bar with surprising strength.
It’s Maya—curse that cardio-regimented queen and her vice grip.
