Yvaine stiffened, but it was too late, he was already striding over.
Cassian stopped right in front of her and gave a shallow nod. No words. Just the bare minimum to make it look civil.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I snapped. ‘You’re blocking our way.’
His smile twitched, then vanished completely. ‘Yvaine—’
‘And I are just leaving. Co on, Yvaine.’
We cut through the crowd towards a side corridor.
At the end of it, there was a narrow balcony tucked behind a set of white lattice doors.
The music sounded distant from here.
I asked, low, ‘Still stuck on him?’
Yvaine let out a thin breath. ‘It’s only been a few weeks. If I could drop him that fast, I’d be exactly like him.’
She used to tell she was over him.
At least now she was being honest.
‘He’s swapped out two already,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t know why I thought I ever mattered.’
I stayed quiet.
She wasn’t looking for advice.
‘It’s fine. I’ll feel like shit for a bit. Then I won’t. All I need is a bit of ti.’
I patted her hand.
Then soone from her family called her na.
‘Want to co with?’ I offered.
‘No, I’ll be fine.’ Yvaine gave an apologetic smile and walked off, her back held too straight.
I headed for the balcony on my own.
I rounded the corner—and stopped.
Soone was already there.
The light caught the edge of his sleeve, the collar of his coat.
I turned to leave.
‘Mirabelle.’
‘Damn it,’ I muttered, then turned around reluctantly.
Rhys stood by the railing.
He looked paler than usual, his hair ssier.
There was a dark patch of stubble along his jaw.
His suit jacket hung crooked, like he hadn’t noticed it was creased.
‘Ca here to see ?’ he asked.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I was just walking around.’
I turned and started walking off.
‘I’m filing for divorce.’
I stopped.
‘From Catherine,’ he added, as if I could mistake his aning.
I turned, slowly.
He took a step forward. ‘I’m ending it with Catherine. If I do... we—’
He choked on the rest.
I could see it coming, the stupid question he didn’t have the guts to finish.
‘You getting a divorce has nothing to do with .’
He stepped closer, agitated now. ‘If I end it, then we still—’
‘You still don’t have a chance with her.’
Ashton rounded the corner, walking fast.
His gaze locked on Rhys like he was deciding where to hit first.
Rhys backed up half a step.
‘Flirting with my wife in public?’ Ashton stopped right in front of him. ‘Did you not see the ring? Or are you selectively blind?’
‘I...’ Rhys licked his dry lips.
Ashton turned to , pushed a strand of hair off my temple and tucked it behind my ear.
He took my hand. ‘It’s starting. Let’s go.’
I nodded. ‘Alright.’
He placed a hand at the small of my back and guided inside.
Behind us, I could feel Rhys watching.
Ashton leaned in. ‘Was he bothering you?’
His lips brushed the edge of my ear.
‘No. I spoke maybe all of two sentences, that’s it.’
By the ti we reached the ballroom doors, the sound wrapped around us—cutlery clinking, a string quartet scraping through a breathy jazz cover, bursts of laughter bouncing off marble.
The crowd shifted when they noticed us—or rather, Ashton.
Conversations slowed.
People leaned across tables and cupped their hands over champagne flutes.
Ashton walked beside , his steps matching mine exactly.
He angled slightly towards , close enough that I could hear his soft breathing.
We took our seats at the top table.
I kept my chin up and my spine straight, sensing eyes on us from every angle.
People stared, then looked away as if caught doing sothing shaful.
Yvaine returned, slightly breathless, and dropped into the seat next to mine.
‘Ceremony’s starting in two minutes,’ she whispered.
The vows dragged.
At one point, Yvaine sniffled and wiped her cheek with a cocktail napkin.
Her mascara bled under both eyes, but she smiled through it.
Then ca the bouquet toss.
The band switched to so cloying pop remix.
A bunch of won scrambled up onto the dais—Rachel Stone’s bridesmaids elbowed their way to the front, squealing like they were at a shoe sale.
‘Not gonna join in?’ Ashton whispered to .
‘I’m already married, aren’t I?’ I flashed him my ring.
He leaned back, satisfied.
The flowers flew.
By the ti people noticed Alexis had even joined in, the bouquet was already in her hand.
She stepped down from the platform like she hadn’t just sprinted in heels and muscled through five bridesmaids.
People turned in their seats.
A few gasped.
Soone let out a sharp little laugh and got shushed.
Alexis returned to her table like nothing was off, bouquet resting lightly in her grip.
Cassian leaned back as she held it out to him.
He didn’t take it.
She placed the bouquet on the table between them, adjusted a petal, then picked up her drink without saying a word.
That was enough to set the room off again.
Heads tilted together.
People murmured behind cloth napkins.
‘Did she just propose to him?’
‘It looked like it.’
‘Isn’t it supposed to be the guy who proposes?’
‘But he didn’t take it.’
‘They’re probably already engaged. This is just for show.’
‘Bet they announce it next week.’
The music picked up again.
A waiter passed by with chocolate mousse in shot glasses.
Soone clinked a spoon against a flute.
I glanced at Yvaine.
She was laughing at sothing a woman in erald said, her mouth glossy from wine, no trace of annoyance or tension anywhere.
Her posture was relaxed.
‘Are those flowers always this much?’ Ashton asked, looking down at the centrepiece between us.
It was an enormous, absurd explosion of peonies and garden roses, mostly white, with the odd dusty pink one mixed in.
‘Depends who’s paying. And whether the bride’s mother’s in therapy or not.’
‘Mm.’ He paused, eyes on the bouquet. ‘Would you want sothing like this? For yours.’
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