Chapter Three: THE BEST OR WRONG CHOICE

True to his word, exactly ten minutes later, Alexander Calvert walked through the chapel doors.

He was wearing an impeccably tailored charcoal suit—Tom Ford, if I wasn't mistaken, because Alexander believed in investing in quality. His white shirt was crisp, his tie perfectly knotted. His dark hair was styled in that effortlessly elegant way he had, as he'd just run his fingers through it and it had fallen into perfect place.

His presence commanded immediate attention, radiating the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing exactly who you were and what you wanted.

Every head in the room turned to watch him stride down the aisle with absolute confidence, his gray eyes locked on mine, never wavering.

He walked like he'd been planning to be here all along. Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

I watched him come toward me and felt something shift in my chest.

This was Alexander. My Alexander.

The boy who'd known me since I was seven years old, gap-toothed and skinning my knees climbing trees.

The teenager who'd tutored me in calculus and never made me feel stupid when I didn't understand.

The man who'd been there for every birthday, every triumph, every failure.

The man who knew that I liked my coffee with two sugars and oat milk, that I read the last chapter of books first, that I was afraid of thunderstorms but loved watching them from inside.

The man who'd told me last night that he'd been in love with me for twenty years.

He reached me and took both my hands in his, searching my face with those sharp gray eyes that saw everything. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, so only I could hear.

His hands were warm and steady, anchoring me. "Lila, are you sure about this?" I looked up at him—he was a few inches taller than Miles, I noticed randomly, my heels putting me at just the right height to rest my head on his shoulder if I wanted to.

His eyes held no judgment, no pressure. Just genuine concern for me, for what I wanted, for what I needed.

"I've never been more sure of anything," I said.

And in that moment, I meant it. Whether it was the anger talking, or the humiliation, or the sudden clarity that came from being abandoned for the third time, I meant it.

This felt right in a way that marrying Miles had stopped feeling the first time he left me at the altar for a paper cut. This was the right choice all along — as if this had been truly right all along.

Alexander nodded once, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then he turned to the stunned officiant, who was still standing at the altar, looking completely bewildered. "Shall we begin?" The minister blinked, looked at me for confirmation. I nodded.

Alexander pledged his vows as he had been rehearsing them all along, as he knew this would eventually happen.

I could see the relief in my parents' faces as the officiant declared us husband and wife.

And that's how I married my childhood best friend instead of the man I'd thought I loved for three years.