“A wedding?” I snort. “That’s your brilliant plan for emotional triage?”
“Not just any wedding.” Grayson leans in, eyes gleaming. “Emerie’s cousin is marrying some crypto bro who peaked inlacrosse. The bride posts yoga retreats on Instagram for a living, but Em says she never actually partakes in it. Weird shit people do for likes. Anyway, the invitation literally says, ‘all love languages welcome on the dance floor.’”
I jab at my breakfast. “That sounds like a bonus level in hell.”
“Exactly why you need it.” Grayson grins. “I already told Emerie that Aaron’s my plus-one and Axel, you’ll be hers.”
“Whoa, I don’t even know her to be her plus-one. Let Aaron do it. I don’t like interacting with people.” Axel starts to protest, but Grayson waves a hand.
“Emerie’s easy, not likethat, but easy-going. She’ll geek out over the fact that you both love to draw, and then she’ll spend the entire night fixing other people’s love lives. Trust me, you two will hit it off perfectly. So you will go with Em, and Aaron will be with me. Besides, Aaron is going to be too busy staring at his phone the entire time we are there.”
“Why would you already say we were going before even asking us?” Axel huffs.
“Because I know after our conversation last night, you both were going to go.” Grayson shrugs.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, not ready to commit to anything resembling social interaction. The thought of watching strangers celebrate their love while mine is imploding feels like torture.
“No thinking required.” Grayson taps his watch. “Our RSVP was needed yesterday, so I already confirmed for us. Seating chart drama with their families.”
I glance at Axel, hoping for backup, but he just shrugs. “Might be good for you to get out. Being alone with your thoughts clearly isn’t helping.”
“Fine,” I concede, more to end the conversation than anything else. “How are we getting upstate? Trains, rental, what’s the plan?”
“I’m driving,” Axel says, with the no-nonsense finality of a man who refuses to cede control of any moving vehicle. “I like having an exit strategy, and after Gray’s last performance behind the wheel…”
“One mailbox! Five years ago!” Grayson throws his hands up, but Axel and I exchange knowing glances.
I nod, secretly relieved. If Minji texts while we’re at this wedding, I’ll need a getaway car back to Manhattan faster than the bride can toss her bouquet. The thought of missing her call while trapped at a stranger’s celebration makes my stomach clench.
“Perfect,” Grayson says. “Now, about attire. Black-tie only.” He jabs a finger at my chest. “And Aaron, that means your infamous tan suit stays in the closet where it belongs.”
Axel’s laugh comes out as a strangled cough.
“Fine. It’s retired anyway,” I concede. “Now when I look back at pictures in that suit… I looked like a budgetMiami Viceextra.”
“More like the entire production.” Grayson leans forward, eyes bright with mischief. “Remember that ridiculous coral pocket square? This time, I want classic. Black tux, white shirt, proper cufflinks. You can sulk in the corner like a Bond villain whose world domination plans just got foiled.”
I roll my eyes. “So, I don’t even get to choose my own tie?”
Grayson’s already scrolling through his phone, ignoring me. “Check out the venue.” He thrusts his cracked screen in my face. “Harriman Estate on the lake. Total trust fund playground. They’ve got an actual swan boat for the ceremony and those fancy cloth hand towels in the bathrooms.”
Axel peers over my shoulder, then straightens. “I’m bringing my flask. If anyone asks, it’s medically necessary.”
“We meet at Axel’s, Friday at six.” Grayson stretches dramatically. “Gotta bounce. Promised Emerie I’d help with her shoe crisis before the rehearsal dinner. She’ll end me if I’m late.”
“Since when do you volunteer for wedding stuff?” I ask.
“I still hate weddings,” he says, backing toward the door. “But Emerie’s cool, and I’m her bestie.” After Grayson leaves, Axel finishes his food in silence before pushing his plate away and fixing me with his trademark clinical stare. “You good?” he asks.
I force a smile. “Yeah. I’m good.” The lie sits heavy on my tongue like a pill I can’t swallow. “Thanks for being here. Really.”
“That’s what brothers do,” he says, pocketing his keys with a jingle. “Call if you need anything. And Aaron? I’m checking in every three hours, so pick up.”
The door clicks shut. I scan the kitchen battlefield—coffee rings, Grayson’s half-eaten cinnamon roll left for dead, a trail of crumbs marking their path. I ought to grab a sponge, but instead I drift to the window. I have to fix this for Minji. I owe her that much.
CHAPTER 36
MINJI
