Thanks for Skipping Dress Day

Skeet suddenly spoke."How about this... we postpone the wedding."I froze.He almost looked relieved, like a weight had just slipped off his shoulders."Norah's at a critical point for her promotion. I don't have the energy for wedding stuff right now."So Norah's promotion mattered more.Even the wedding we'd spent six months planning got pushed aside for her.A bitter ache spread through my chest.He reached over, brushing my hair like he could calm me down. "Postponing isn't bad. We'll have more time. And you won't get upset every day because I'm too busy. Once I get through this, I promise I'll—""Skeet." I cut him off. "Let's break up."His hand froze in my hair. Disbelief crossed his face.He rubbed his temples. "Quit playing. We're not kids throwing around breakups. I said postpone for you. I want to give you the perfect wedding. Why are you—"His phone rang.Norah.He declined it.It rang again.He glanced at me."Go ahead. What if it's important?"He exhaled

Laughter burst out inside.My fingers curled tight."Don't start," Norah cut in, soft and perfectly timed. "We're just mentor and mentee. Don't say stuff like that. What if Bella gets the wrong idea?""The wrong idea? We all see how close you are.""Yeah. Skeet, what do you think?"A beat of silence.Then Skeet, easy and lazy—"What is there to say? Drink."He didn't deny it.Which meant he accepted it.The laughter got louder. Someone teased,"Alright, alright, we'll drop it. Norah, pour your mentor a drink—"Norah laughed softly.Through the door, I could almost see it—that perfectly timed shy look.My chest tightened.Then slowly eased.I should've seen it sooner.The late-night "overtime."The sweet edge in her voice notes.The flicker in his eyes when he looked at her.And that time—The perfume on his collar.Not mine.Not his either.When I asked, he said they'd sat close in a meeting. Picked it up from some coworker.I believed him.Seven years. From a

Skeet's face drained."Promises? No. Time? No. Basic respect? Even less."Edith's voice turned ice-cold."Picking out a ring—you left after one call. Meeting the planner—one call, and you left. Meeting both families—same thing. Every time, that mentee. Always, 'She just graduated. I can't ignore her.'"Her gaze locked on him."Skeet Fadley, tell me—when did you ever put my daughter first?"His throat locked up.He wanted to say, "I care about her," but nothing came out.Because every single thing she said—he couldn't deny any of it."You think my daughter would wait forever?" Edith let out a sharp laugh, all sarcasm. "Who do you think you are? What gives you that right?""Mom." Bella tugged her arm. "That's enough.""Why should I stop?" Edith turned on her, eyes red. "You think I don't know what these seven years did to you? Every time he left you for that girl, you went home, smiled at yourself in the mirror, said it was fine. Said he was just busy. You think I didn't know

"Norah's way better than Bella. That face, that body..."He hadn't pushed back.Why not?Too drunk?Didn't want to kill the vibe?Or—for a split second, did he actually think Norah—young, pretty—looked better than Bella after seven years?He didn't know.He didn't want to.Skeet tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and started the car.Then froze.No clue where to go.The office?Didn't want to.The staff apartment?No way.The place he shared with Bella?Gone. Sold.Seven years, just... erased.Moving in. Fighting over furniture. That light she always left on when he got home late—All of it, gone.He pulled over and dropped forward, forehead against the wheel. Didn't move.Time passed.Finally, he lifted his head, started the engine, and drove.Not to work.To find Norah.***By the time Skeet pushed through the glass doors, it was already dark.He didn't even know why he came.To question Norah?Thank her?Or just... get an answer.How did he los

"What are you thanking me for?" he said. "We're legally married. It's my duty to protect you."Legally married.He said it so casually, but it made me pause.Right. We were husband and wife now.Even if this was rushed. Even if we'd met less than ten times. Even if there was still that thin layer between us—Legally, he was my husband. I was his wife."Go to sleep," he said. "We're seeing my parents tomorrow. Dinner.""Okay." I shut the door.I was in bed, and Andrew's face wouldn't leave my mind.At the wedding, the lights hit him just right, tracing him in a soft gold glow...Something in my chest eased, quiet and slow.***Married life was calmer than I expected.Andrew stayed busy—out early, home late.We lived in a luxury condo in Eastbrook. Two bedrooms, a living room in between.Basically roommates.But not really.Every morning, I woke up to breakfast already waiting on the table.Sometimes cream soup with a few small sides. Sometimes a sandwich and milk. Some