“Yes, I got that part right.” He repeated it like the words didn’t compute. “You got married to my sister. In Vegas.”
“Yes.”
He pulled out his phone and shoved the screen toward me. Someone had recorded our wedding video, because obviously I was a sought-after bachelor in all of New York City.
Claudette in that white dress, me in a suit, both of us saying vows. “The entire internet knows before I do,” Jack said, his voice was shaking with barely suppressed rage. “My best friend married my sister and I found out from a viral video.”
“It just happened. We were going to tell you?—”
“Don’t tell me it just happened.” He ground out, shoving the phone back in his pocket roughly. “How long have you been planning this?”
I sighed, knowing whatever I said wouldn’t change anything. If I told myself the story, I wouldn’t believe it either.
Still, I tried. “It wasn’t planned?—”
“Bullshit.” He was right in my face now. “You don’t just accidentally marry someone, Mike. So tell me. How long have you been lying to me?”
“I haven’t been lying?—”
“You married my sister.” He shoved me—not hard, but hard enough to make his point. “The same sister I told you—multiple times—to stay away from. Remember those conversations? Because I remember them really clearly and you promised me.She’s had this silly crush on you, but I warned you not to hurt her!”
“Jack—”
“I told you she was off-limits. I told you that you don’t get to look at her that way. I told you—” His voice cracked. “I trusted you, and you stabbed me in the back.”
Those words hit harder than the shove. His eyes were dark with betrayal, red-rimmed like he’d been up all night replaying every moment of our friendship and finding lies in all of them.
“I know,” I said. No defense. No excuses. Just acknowledgment of what I’d done. What I’d taken from him.
“You took the one person I asked you not to touch and you married her. In secret.” He straightened, his whole body rigid with barely controlled fury. “She’s coming home with me. Now.”
Everything in me went cold. Then hot. Then absolutely still.
“No.” The word came out instantly. Non-negotiable.
Jack blinked. “What?”
“She’s not going anywhere.” I straightened too, meeting his anger with something harder. Something immovable. “She stays here.”
“The hell she does?—”
“She’s my wife, Jack.” I said it clearly. “My wife. That changes everything.”
“You think saying that gives you rights over her?” His voice rose, sharp and incredulous. “You think marrying her in Vegas means you get to keep her?”
“I think it means she’s mine to take care of now. Mine to protect.” I took a step toward him instead of away. “You had your turn. You’ve been protecting her, hovering over her, making decisions for her since she was born. But she’s not yours anymore.”
“She’s my baby sister?—”
“And she’s my wife.” I didn’t back down. Didn’t soften. “Which means when she needs something, I’m the one she comes to. When she’s scared, I’m the one who comforts her. When she wakes up confused and lost, I’m the one who’s there.” I paused. “Not you. Me.”
“You don’t get to decide that!” He seethed.
“I’m not deciding anything. She already decided when she married me.” I held his gaze. “You want her to go home with you? Fine. Go in there and ask her. See what she says.”
“She doesn’t even remember marrying you?—”
“Exactly.” I cut him off. “She doesn’t remember. Which means if she wanted to leave, she would. If she felt unsafe or uncomfortable or trapped, she’d say so. But she’s not asking to leave, Jack.”
