Anger flares in my chest when I see the color drain from Sutton’s face. “Mom?—”
“And the caterers are the best in the city,” she adds smoothly. “So are the florists. It’s really quite exciting.”
“That’s very proactive of you, dear,” Dad grumbles, annoyance flashing in his gaze. Clearly, all this is news to him. Not that I’m surprised, since Mom and Dad don’t tell each other anything. Still, part of me thought she’d be a little more forthcoming about something as significant as my wedding.
Are they just not speaking to each other at all now?
Hallie’s eyes flick between Sutton and me before turning back to Mom. “Wow. You’re not even pretending this is optional, huh?”
Ryan smirks into his wine. “Efficiency runs in the family.”
I take in a breath and fight to keep my voice calm. “We haven’t agreed to any of this.”
Mom turns that all-too familiar smile on me. It’s the one she’s used my entire life when she’s already decided theoutcome. “Jayce, sweetheart, this is just planning. There’s no harm in being prepared.”
“There is when you didn’t ask,” I say flatly.
She waves it off. “You’re busy. Sutton’s busy. This is why you have people who help.” Her gaze shifts to Sutton, warm and expectant. “Iris is thrilled, by the way. She said it’ll be nice to plan something so joyful for once.”
Sutton smiles, and it’s polite and composed, but forced, and she’s struggling to keep her breathing low and steady. I slide my foot beneath the table and press it against hers. She pushes her foot back against mine and I see her release a soft breath.
“That’s very kind of you,” she replies. “Thank you for taking so much care.”
I frown at her in concern. “Sutton?—”
She shoots me a quick look and an almost imperceptible shake of her head. A warning.Not here.
Mom beams, clearly pleased with herself. “Wonderful. I’ll send you both the schedule tomorrow.”
The penthouse is dark and quiet when we get home. The city’s lights stream in through the windows, the only source of illumination. Sutton slips off her shoes. Her shoulders are even more slouched downward now that we’re truly alone.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say.
She looks at me. We haven’t spoken since leaving my parents’ house.
I continue. “My mom had no right.”
“She only did what she thought was helpful,” Sutton murmurs, turning her gaze to the floor.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” she agrees. Then she exhales and finally turns to look at me. “But we’ll handle it. We have to.”
I watch her, a little surprised by her controlled words. “How?”
She shrugs one shoulder, but when she speaks, her voice is choked. “We plan a wedding. Or we pretend to. And if it falls apart later, we cancel. Or we get divorced.”
The word lands heavy between us.
I don’t like how defeated she sounds, or how her shoulders sag and worry dances in her gaze. I also don’t like the idea of a divorce anymore, or of this falling apart.
A few weeks ago, I would have told myself this was temporary. That the whole point of this arrangement was that itwouldend, eventually. Divorce had always been part of the plan. The inevitable exit.
Standing here now, watching the way doubt creeps across her face…the idea of that ending hits differently. I already know I’m falling for her. I admitted that to myself days ago, even if I haven’t figured out what the hell to do with it yet.
Marriage still doesn’t make sense to me. Not the forever version everyone else seems so convinced about. One thing is very, very clear, however.
I refuse to lose her.
