~~Julie~~ The pain started several hours ago. At first, it was manageable—a dull ache radiating through my lower abdomen. It felt like my body was whispering its warnings. But now, hours later, it’s no whisper. It’s a full-blown scream. Sharp, relentless waves of pain grip me, tightening like a vice around my insides. I’ve been timing the contractions, because the last time this happened, Dr. Casey Patel had sent me home with enough instructions on how to detect real labor. If this isn’t labor, then God help me, because it feels like this baby is about to crawl up my spine and burst out of my chest. I clutch the bannister with one hand and my lower abdomen with the other, pausing halfway down the stairs to catch my breath. Every step feels like a test of endurance, like I’m descending a mountain instead of my own staircase. “Paula!” I shout, hoping the cook will come running. But it isn’t Paula who appears. Instead, Javier rolls into view at the bottom of the stairs, his expressio
~~Julie~~I have to say this: Luke’s family knows how to party. It’s like everyone’s high and energetic. Even the children aren’t left out. It’s one thing to practice a dance, and it’s another to actually use those moves. I’m stumbling, but I don’t care. Because I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I can’t keep track of the number of people I’ve danced with. I’ve lost Luke for the hundredth time tonight. The last time I saw him, he was being dragged into a conga line by his mother, who seemed to have the stamina of a teenager. Somewhere between the flashing lights and the sea of bodies spinning and stomping, he’d disappeared again.I stumble slightly in my heels, though at this point they feel more like medieval torture devices. My silver dress—once sleek and elegant—is now sticking to me like a second skin, the fabric damp with sweat from almost an hour of dancing. I brush confetti out of my hair. It’s everywhere—on my shoulders, even stuck to the perspiration on my arms.A
It’s our first dance as a couple, and Julie’s arms are draped around my neck, her warmth melting into mine as we sway to the soft rhythm of the music. Her dress catches the golden glow of the chandeliers, shimmering like something out of a dream. But it’s not the dress or the lights that have me mesmerized—it’s her.Her cheeks are flushed, a shade of pink that makes my heart stutter, and her eyes, those deep, captivating pools, glisten with unshed tears. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but all I can manage is, “You’re beautiful.”Julie’s blush deepens, and she looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You’ve already said that. Twice.”“Because it’s true.”Around us, everyone is watching.Julie bites her lip, a nervous gesture that only makes her more endearing. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Feeling this… shy?”I chuckle. “Like teenagers on a first date.”“Exactly. The entire room is watching, and I don’t know where to look.”“You’re doing great so far,” I say. “Jus
~~Luke~~I don’t know if it’s appropriate for the groom to cry on his wedding day, but right now, it’s taking my entire self-control not to sob. My throat feels tight, my chest is heavy, and every muscle in my face is fighting. Screw it—who made that rule anyway?Julie is walking toward me. Julie. My Julie. And it feels like the first time all over again—the day I saw her sitting on that barstool, drowning her sorrows in a glass of whiskey. I hadn’t planned to approach her. I was headed toward the fire exit, escaping someone whose face I can’t remember now. But then I saw her, and something in me shifted.Now, here she is, making her way down the aisle, radiant in a dress that looks like it was sewn from clouds and moonlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I wonder if it’s possible to actually combust from sheer awe.Her maid of honor walks beside her, clutching her arm with a steadying hand, but Julie doesn’t need it. She’s poised, her eyes locked on mine.“You’re far gone, man,
~~Julie~~People say all brides are late to their weddings. It’s practically a tradition, isn’t it? But me? I was not going to be one of those brides. I had a plan. I gave myself a generous window—ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops—because, really, what could possibly make me late?The answer, apparently, is everything. Here I am, forty minutes behind schedule, crammed in the backseat of a car with Marissa, my maid of honor, wrestling with my veil like it’s some kind of unruly octopus.“Hold still,” Marissa says, her fingers tangled in the fabric. “You keep moving, and this thing’s going to look like a bird nested in your hair.”“I wouldn’t be moving if we weren’t speeding down the road like we’re in a car chase,” I shoot back, my head jerking as the driver swerves to avoid another car.The blame? It falls squarely on last night’s rehearsal dinner. It felt like the entire world showed up. Luke’s family alone must have taken up half the venue, and their energy? Boundless. How do they eve
~~Ryan O’Brien~~ It’s fifteen minutes before the pre-trial, and Ryan’s car pulls into the courthouse. As Justin, his chauffeur and bodyguard, cuts the ignition, Ryan stares through the tinted window at the swarm of reporters and onlookers gathered outside like vultures, cameras poised for the kill. He can practically hear the click of shutters, the incessant questions ready to pounce, though he hasn’t even stepped out yet. Adeline is beside him, looking as bored as ever. Adeline taps her manicured nails against the leather armrest. She looks as though she’d rather be anywhere else, though Ryan knows better. His mother thrives on drama, especially when she’s not the one under fire. “How long is this circus going to take?” she says. “You didn’t have to come.” Ryan loosens his tie, the knot around his neck nothing compared to the one in his chest. Adeline shrugs. “I had nothing better to do. Besides, someone has to ensure you don’t embarrass the family name more than you already hav