8. Olivia
OLIVIA
The hairbrush shook in my hand as I stared at my reflection. Three quick strokes. Stop. Four more. Stop. I'd been at this for fifteen minutes, mechanically brushing hair that was already smooth, trying to delay the inevitable.
My phone buzzed on the bathroom counter—another text from Ruby.
Ruby: Everyone's here. Where are you?
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and set the brush down. Time to get this over with.
The sundress I'd chosen was pretty but unremarkable, perfect for blending into the background at a housewarming party. My makeup was subtle, my hair down and straight. Nothing that screamed "look at me" or "just had my heart shattered by my best friend."
Nothing that would betray how hollow I felt inside.
The drive to Miles and Kinley's new place didn’t take long, not nearly enough time to prepare myself for seeing Garner again.
My stomach twisted at the thought of our upcoming performance.
We'd planned the lead-up to our final breakup on Friday night carefully.
The fight at the housewarming party only needed to be a disagreement that would spread through town without causing a scene. Simple. Practical. Painless.
Except everything about it felt like agony.
I paused outside the craftsman-style house, admiring the fresh paint and newly planted flower beds. Music and laughter spilled from the open windows. For a moment, I considered turning around, texting some excuse about a migraine or food poisoning. But running away wouldn't solve anything.
I straightened my shoulders, plastered on my most convincing smile, and climbed the porch steps.
Ruby spotted me the moment I stepped inside, and made a beeline through the crowd with two glasses of wine.
"There you are!" She handed me one of the glasses, studying my face with narrowed eyes. "You look terrible."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. Not exactly what a girl wants to hear."
"Not terrible-terrible. Just... sad-terrible." She lowered her voice. "Are you okay? I feel like I've ruined something by telling you about that photo."
I took a long sip of wine before answering. "I'm fine. It's been a long weekend."
"Mmm." Her expression made it clear she didn't believe me. "Your husband arrived ten minutes ago. He's out back talking to Miles about the deck stain or some equally thrilling topic."
I flinched at the word "husband," hoping Ruby didn't notice. "Great. I should probably go find him."
Her hand on my arm stopped me. "Whatever's going on with you two... you can talk to me about it, you know?"
The genuine concern in her eyes almost broke me. I swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in my throat.
"I know. But there's nothing to talk about. Really."
Before she could press further, I slipped into the crowd, exchanging quick hellos with familiar faces as I made my way through the house. Several people offered congratulations on my marriage, their excited questions forcing me to recite our practiced responses.
"Yes, very spontaneous... No, no big ceremony... Just felt right, you know?"
Each lie tasted more bitter than the last.
I found Garner exactly where Ruby had said he would be—on the back deck, beer in hand, deep in conversation with Miles.
My breath caught at the sight of him. He'd changed into dark jeans and a navy button-down that made his eyes look impossibly blue, the sleeves rolled to expose the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He'd trimmed his beard, too—just enough to look polished without losing that rugged edge that always made my heart race.
Even now, even hurt and angry and confused, I couldn't deny how gorgeous he was.
He sensed me before he saw me, his shoulders tensing slightly as I approached. When he turned, his expression was neutral, giving away nothing.
"Hey," he said, his voice low. "You made it."
"Yeah. I just got here." I forced a smile for Miles's benefit. "The house looks amazing."
Miles grinned, oblivious to the tension crackling between us. "Wait till you see the kitchen. Kinley's showing it off inside. She'd kill me if I gave you the tour without her."
"I'll find her in a bit," I promised. "Mind if I steal my husband for a minute?"
The word felt like glass in my mouth, sharp and dangerous.
"All yours." Miles clapped Garner on the shoulder before heading inside, leaving us alone on the deck.
For a moment, we stood there, an awkward silence stretching between us. This was nothing like our usual comfortable quiet. This was loaded, heavy with raw feelings and everything we’d left unsaid.
"Nice dress," Garner finally said, his eyes skimming over me before returning to his beer.
"Thanks." I snapped my hair tie against my wrist. "How do you want to do this?"
He took a long pull from his bottle before answering. "Let's give it an hour. People need to see us together first, or it won't be believable."
"Right." I nodded, staring out at the tidy backyard. "Makes sense."
"Liv..." He started, then stopped. "About this morning?—"
"Not here.” I cut him off, sharper than I intended.
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Fine."
The hour that followed was excruciating. We moved through the party like actors in a play, standing close but not touching, smiling but never meeting each other's eyes. I accepted congratulations and deflected questions about future plans, all while feeling like I might shatter at any moment.
Garner played his part perfectly—the attentive new husband, his hand occasionally brushing the small of my back, his laugh barely warm enough to be convincing. But I could feel the distance he'd placed between us, the careful wall he'd put up since that night at the resort.
He'd held me like I was precious, like I was everything. Now we were nothing at all to each other. For the millionth time, I wondered if any part of our friendship would survive.
By the time we'd made our way through the crowded living room to the kitchen, I was exhausted from the performance. Kinley cornered us by the granite island, where platters of food were arranged in Instagram-worthy displays.
"So when do we get to hear the full story?" she asked, refilling my wine glass without waiting for an answer. "The elopement, I mean. Everyone's dying to know."
Garner tensed beside me. "Not much to tell, really."
"Oh, come on," Kinley pressed. "You two have been joined at the hip since forever. There has to be a moment when it all changed. When did you know?"
The question hung in the air between us, dangerous and loaded. I opened my mouth to recite our practiced story, but Garner spoke first.
"We've always been close," he said, his voice soft. "But there was this one night, years ago. We were maybe nineteen. Liv had this date with some college guy who stood her up. I found her sitting on her front porch trying not to cry."
My breath caught. This wasn't our fake story. This was a real memory I'd almost forgotten.
"So I took her to dinner instead," he continued, his eyes fixed on some distant point. "Nothing fancy, you know that little Italian place over in Whitefish. And she laughed all night, even though some jerk had just broken her heart. That's when I knew she was the strongest person I'd ever met."
He finally looked at me, something raw and unguarded in his expression. "That's when I knew she was special."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Because the way he'd said it, like he meant every word, made my heart stutter in my chest.
"Was that fake?" I whispered, too quiet for anyone but him to hear.
Before he could answer, a crash from the front of the house broke the moment.
“Kinley!” Miles called out. “Hades thinks he’s joining the party and came through the screen door.”
“That wolf thinks he’s human, doesn’t he?” Kinley offered an apologetic smile then rushed off to do damage control, leaving us alone in the suddenly too-quiet kitchen.
I stepped back, needing distance. "We should do this now. The argument."
Garner's face shuttered, that brief vulnerability gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Here?"
"Semi-private but visible enough." I nodded toward the kitchen doorway, where several people stood within eyesight. "The perfect place to end it."
Something flashed in his eyes. Was it hurt? Anger? I couldn't tell anymore. "Fine. What's our story?"
"Keep it simple. We’ll have a disagreement about where we should live." I lowered my voice, though no one was close enough to hear. "You want to stay in your apartment above the shop. I think we should get a real house. Irreconcilable differences."
"Very believable," he said, mocking me. "No one would ever think we could work that out."
I ignored the sarcasm and steeled myself. "Ready?"
He nodded once, his expression hardening. "Let's get this over with."
I raised my voice just enough to be noticed. "You can't seriously expect me to live above a tattoo shop forever."
Garner matched my tone perfectly, frustration coloring his words. "It's my home, Olivia. Has been for years. I don't see why that has to change because you've suddenly decided you need a picket fence."
"It's not about a picket fence," I countered, crossing my arms. "It's about building a life together. Something you clearly aren't ready for."
Several heads turned our way, whispers already starting. I could feel the attention like a physical weight pressing against my skin.
"Or maybe you're just trying to change me," Garner shot back, his voice colder than I'd ever heard it. "Make me into something I'm not. Something more acceptable."
The words hit harder than they should have, slipping past the boundaries of our act into something real and painful. I flinched, unprepared for how much it hurt.
"I would never—" I started, then stopped, forcing myself back into character. "This was a mistake. All of it."
His eyes widened, and I realized he'd heard the truth behind the performance. For a heartbeat, raw emotion crossed his face, something that looked almost like panic. Then the mask slipped back into place, smooth and impenetrable.
"Clearly," he said, voice flat. "I'll be at home. Come get your stuff whenever."
He turned and walked away without looking back, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen with a half-empty wine glass and the curious stares of a dozen party guests. I heard the front door close a few seconds later. The sound of a final ending that echoed in my chest.
Just like we'd planned. A perfect performance. The news of our fight traveled through the party in muffled tones and excited whispers.
I made my excuses to Kinley, apologized for the scene, and escaped to the bathroom before anyone could see the tears threatening to spill.
I locked the door behind me and stared at my reflection in the mirror: strong, collected, and completely shattered inside.
Gripping the edge of the sink, I willed myself not to cry. Not here. Not where someone might hear.
"It's only pretend," I whispered. "None of it was real."
But that was the problem, wasn't it? Some of it had been real. Too real. The way he'd held me, the way he'd looked at me across that dinner table, the story he'd told Kinley—that hadn't been pretend. Or had it?
I couldn't tell anymore where the act ended, and the truth began.
After splashing cold water on my face and reapplying my lip gloss, I walked out of the bathroom with my dignity intact. I said goodbye to Ruby, who shot me a concerned look but didn't press, and headed for the door.
In the entryway, I spotted Garner's jacket, a worn flannel one I'd given him two birthdays ago, tossed over the back of a chair. He must have forgotten it in his hurry to leave. I reached for it automatically, my fingers brushing the soft, familiar fabric.
The corner of a piece of paper peeked out of the pocket. I hesitated before pulling it out, telling myself I was checking to see if it was important before returning the jacket.
The paper unfolded in my hands, revealing a sketch. A drawing of me, asleep, my face peaceful, a small smile curving my lips. The detail was exquisite—the sweep of my eyelashes against my cheek, the tumble of my hair across the pillow. The tenderness in every pencil stroke took my breath away.
It was me from the other night at the resort. The night we'd been together.
I stared at the sketch, my heart in my throat. This wasn't something he would draw of someone he regretted being with. This wasn't casual. This was... love?
Couldn’t be. That was my wishful thinking. I refolded the drawing and slipped it back into the pocket. Then I set the jacket down on the chair, my shoulders slumping in defeat.
It was time to stop pretending. Time to accept that I’d never be anything more than a friend to Garner. And thanks to dragging him into pretending to be married, maybe not even that.