Failing Moon

Chapter 1: You're Marrying My Ex?

“I'm getting married!”

I blinked. “Huh? You were dating?”

“Of course I was, dummy. You know I love being in love.” My sister, Chloe laughed.

She was glowing. That was the first red flag.

“Is it to the guy named Zane with a silent G? The one you met at the three-month yoga retreat in LA?”

“Ew no. Zane was an asshole.” She snapped.

“Umm, congrats I guess… but who's the lucky guy?” Unlucky, if I was free to be honest.

Chloe held out a crisp, green and cream-colored envelope with silver calligraphy.

I took the wedding invitation and unfolded it, dread already settling in at the back of my head.

“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Chloe Hart and Dean Archer.”

My heart didn’t just sink, it free-fell through my stomach and straight out my body.

“Dean Archer,” I said slowly. “My Dean?”

Chloe swiftly snatched her wedding invite from my trembling fingers. “MY Dean,” Chloe chirped. “Isn’t it crazy? It all just… clicked. He came back to New Hope last Christmas, we reconnected, and—boom. Instant.”

I stared at my sister like she was speaking in tongues.

Dean Archer was my college ex. The one who left me without a real explanation. Dumped me via text on my birthday.

The ex I never got over.

The one who knew all the right buttons to push and disappeared just when I’d started to believe in him.

“You're marrying my ex?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Your ex? Was that actually a relationship? That old fling? C'mon sis.”

My mouth went dry.

Chloe rose from the couch and stepped forward as if to greet me, then stopped abruptly, her nose wrinkled in delicate horror.

"Oh. No, I don’t think I can hug you. You’ve got ink on your hands, and I just had this sweater dry-cleaned."

She wore a pastel-pink cable-knit sweater over a white satin tank top, paired with pressed cream linen pants and ballet flats that had never seen a scuff. Her blonde hair was tucked into a perfect low bun. Every part of her screamed effortless grace.

Me, in contrast, stood in the doorway in a rumpled button-down, a charcoal skirt that barely grazed my thighs, one heel hanging on for dear life, and black ink smudged across my three fingers.

I stared at her, stunned into silence.

Chloe sipped her wine. "You okay? You look a little pale. Is it the vertigo again? Maybe skip the champagne toast at the wedding. I’d hate for you to go down during the vows. That'd be embarrassing, Sav. Anyway, you’re gonna be my maid of honor. Fingers crossed, you catch the bouquet. My fiancé has good looking friends you could manage to impress.”

I stared at her.

“I left the office in a hurry, broke my freaking stiletto, ran three red-lights, fought with drunk drivers and nearly crashed my Audi, just to get home to you, Chloe. You said it was an emergency!”

She paused mid-sip.

“Oh… I'm sorry I had no idea. I just thought you were late because you got distracted by a Zara window again.” She giggled.

“Nope.”

“Well, if you did though it'd come in handy now because you know I'm quite particular about colours, shades and fabrics.” She rambled on.

It was my turn to roll my eyes, “Let me hear it.”

“It's green. But not the basic one… it's a bit more intense.” She describes.

“You mean emerald green?” I asked flatly.

“It’s not just emerald green, okay? God, do I look like someone who wears something off-the-rack? No. It’s more like… if envy and royalty had a scandalous love child. Think deep forest glimmering with silent judgment. Rich. Regal. But also don’t-touch-me sharp. Not teal. Not moss. Not jade. And absolutely not that murky mall-green you find in discount bins where your OOTD comes from. This shade says, ‘Yes, I’ve arrived, and no, I don’t care that you’re staring’.”

My mouth hung up.

“That's emerald, Chlo.” I argued.

“No, it's not. That shit is basic. For the fabric? Silk. Rich silk. Can you afford that, Sav? You're gonna be my maid of honor, you have to look presentable enough to play the part. Don’t bring your Walmart thrifts to my event.”

Something snapped within me.

If this is how you wanna play, then let's play, baby sis.

“Can I bring a date?”

She glanced up from her phone. “You haven't had a decent relationship in years. Who could you possibly be bringing?”

I lifted my chin. "Actually, I've got big news to share too… wanted to keep it a secret but now? Not so much."

“You got promoted at work?”

“I'm engaged.”

Chloe choked on her sip. "You?"

I beamed, “Yes, I'm getting married too.”

Chloe made a face as if her wine had suddenly turned bitter. “That's huge. And who's the brave guy?”

"Roman Blackwood. You know, my best friend. He works in finance." I lied without blinking.

Chloe's brows shot up. "Roman? The one who always texts you during family dinners and sends Dad cigars at Christmas? That Roman?"

I forced a smile. "The very one. We’ve kept it quiet. Didn’t want to steal anyone’s thunder."

Chloe blinked. "Hmm. I mean... good for you. I didn’t think you were the relationship type, but here we are. Must be something in the air."

“Must be."

I turned toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, my fingers trembling just enough to clink the glass against the tap.

"But, uh, let’s not tell the family just yet. We’re still figuring out the timing. You know Roman is always busy and only gets to take two vacations in twelve months and I'm always busy booking meetings and controlling schedules. We don't want to get overwhelmed with the whole process. You understand, right?"

Chloe rose and grabbed her purse, that same serene smile on her face as she headed for the door.

“Crystal," she said in a voice like a sugar cube melting in tea. "I've got you. Love you, sis."

And then she was gone. Leaving behind her perfume… and chaos.

Immediately, my phone started vibrating in my bag. After rummaging for minutes, I finally found it and nearly dropped it instantly with a shriek.

Chloe had opened her big mouth and told literally everyone from our genepool that I was getting married.

The family group chat was heating up. Mom, dad, our older sister, Alyssa, Aunt Janice, Aunt Thelma, Uncle Jace…. Literally everybody that saw me in diapers!

Shit!

I've got to warn Roman.