“I'll have you know I hadplentyof choices.Dozens.”
“Uh-huh.”He took a step forward.His smirk and the unconvinced look in his eyes made me glare.“And you're going to meet with thesedozensof menand, what?Interview them all to see if they'd be the right fit for this plan?Because you have months to work with instead of three weeks?”
I gave him a look sharp enough to cut glass.“You think you’re funny?”
Another step.
“I think I’m realistic.It’s a lot of public appearances for one woman on a revenge mission.You’ll need someone convincing enough to sell the lie, and if there's one thing I am—aside from being undeniably attractive—it's good at selling a lie.I'll help you out.”
“You?”A laugh escaped me, low and bitter.“You think I’m going to paradeyouaround in front of my family and ex-boyfriend?”
He tilted his head, grin lazy, confident.“Why not me?”
“Because I'm not in the habit of torturing myself.”
“Just think about it,” he said, taking that final step toward me—close enough that my chest brushed against his.“Showing up to the wedding with me tells that asshole that you've moved on just as fast as he did.It'll make him feelthissmall.I'm telling you right now, I’m exactly the kind of man who’d make a guy like that squirm.”
“You’re delusional is what you are.”
“Only on Thursdays,” he said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes.
“Trust me, if you show up with all your attention on me, he won't be able to think straight.You wanted someone who’d make your ex choke on his regrets.That's me.”
“Jaxon,” I said, forcing my voice steady, “you can’t just show up after years of making my life hell and expect me to trust you with this.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me,” he said.“I’m asking you to let me help you screw over the guy who cheated on you and is crazy enough to marry her.I can play the part.I’ll keep my distance, be professional, no strings attached—whatever you want.”
The streetlights washed over his face—shadows flickering across the sharp lines of his jaw, the quiet regret in his eyes.For a moment, I almost believed him.Almost.
Then I remembered the laughter.The humiliation.The way my heart cracked in that gymnasium years ago when I realized I was nothing but a joke to him.
I stepped back, putting space between us.“I don’t want your help.I don’t want your apology.And I sure as hell don’t want to see you again.”
He flinched—barely—but enough for me to notice.
“Savannah—”
“Goodbye, Jaxon.”
I walked away before he could say another word, my heels striking sharp against the pavement.
Behind me, I could feel his gaze—heavy, unreadable—but I didn’t look back.
I’d made enough mistakes letting men like him close.
And I wasn’t about to start again.
Two days.
Forty-eight hours of scrolling through profiles that all blurred together—perfect smiles, curated bios, promises of brunch and ambition.Every single one looked promising on paper, and every single one made me want to hurl my phone into traffic.
The engagement party was tonight.
Tonight.Saturday, November 8.Six p.m.sharp.
My laptop glowed from the edge of my bed, Lori's last condescending email still open along with the intricate digital design of the engagement party invite.And beside it, my phone—where Benji’s last text stared at me with unnerving patience.
