Chapter 23
JULES
After the kiss and the walk back down the aisle, everything spills into celebration. The tent fills with laughter and clinking glasses, the clatter of salad plates beneath twinkling Edison bulbs.
Through the crowd of congratulations, hugs, and cheek-kisses from neighbors, I spot him.
Evan.
Two champagne flutes in hand, gray suit pressed, smile easy. There’s a hesitance in his step, like he’s not quite sure how he fits into this picture.
His face is familiar. Comforting.
And after today, maybe comforting should matter more than it does.
“Hey.” He brushes a kiss to my cheek, lingering just long enough for people to notice. “You fit right in here. Like you never left.”
He says it softly, like he means it. Like he’s proud to stand beside me.
“Yeah, it’s full of memories.” I smile faintly. “Glad you made it.”
He offers me a glass, voice low. “You look beautiful. Maddie looks amazing as well.”
“Thanks.” I take the champagne carefully, guilt pressing at the edges of my chest.
Evan’s never been anything but good to me. He’s consistent, kind, and dependable. The kind of man you could build a life with.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to escape the office on time.”
“I couldn’t miss it,” he says, and for a moment I let myself believe him.
I take a sip of champagne, the bubbles catching in my throat, and try to let the comfort settle in. Maybe this is what love is supposed to feel like.
Then laughter cuts across the tent. Low, easy, unmistakable.
It’s Calvin.
He’s spinning a flower girl in a clumsy circle, her giggles spilling into the music. The sight catches me off guard. It’s gentle and disarming, the kind of joy that makes everyone else fade for a heartbeat.
My gaze lingers longer than it should. I tell myself I’m just curious, just trying to understand who he is now. But his gravity holds me there until I force myself to look away.
“Been a while since I’ve seen you in your element, Jules,” Evan says beside me.
I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, thanks. I basically stood there.”
Evan glances toward the dance floor, grinning. “That’s him, huh? Mr. Pick-Up Artist. Broke your teenage heart?”
“Yup. That’s Calvin.” My voice comes out quieter than I mean.
He chuckles, turning back to me. “Seems like a good guy.” He reaches for my hand, thumb tracing over my knuckles. “Guess I’d better stay close. A man like that could give me a run for my money.”
There’s humor in his voice, but with something fragile he might not even realize he’s showing.
A neighbor pauses beside us, grinning. “Hey Jules, who’s the lucky man?”
“This is Evan,” I say, stepping back as introductions begin.
He slips easily into small talk about the weather, real estate, the new urban planning project in the city. His smile is perfectly in place.
“We’ve been talking about maybe moving closer in,” he says, sliding me a look. “Right, Jules? Tired of all those train rides back and forth.”
The neighbor nods, impressed. “Wow, that’s great! Jules always talked about doing big things.”
Evan relaxes into the attention. “Life outside Chicago’s been good though. Quieter. We like the space, don’t we, Jules?”
He says it with that familiar tilt, the one that asks for my agreement before I’ve even answered.
I lift my glass, smiling just enough.
It’s easy. Pleasant. The kind of conversation that fills the silence without asking much from anyone.
One of the neighbors gestures toward the dance floor. “They did a beautiful job with the ceremony. Nice and short. I love the flowers.”
“Yeah, it was nice,” Evan says, then turns to me with a faint smirk. “We could probably learn something from that, huh, Jules?”
He means it as a joke, a gentle nudge toward the future, but it lands like the truth I’m currently not trying to look at.
Last week, I might’ve called it sweet. Now, I’m suddenly not sure why it makes me nervous.
Heat gathers at my ribs, but it isn’t the champagne.
Evan and I drift toward the edge of the tent where clusters of guests linger in conversation and kids dart across the empty dance floor. His voice is thoughtful, almost rehearsed.
“We should talk about us, after this. We’ve been thinking about moving in together. Maybe finding a place closer to my job in Chicago. A house would be nice, or a condo if you prefer. We could start fresh, start building something long term.”
For a moment, warmth spreads through me. This is what I always thought I wanted. Predictable, kind, forward-thinking. A plan. A promise. A future with edges I could trace.
I try to picture it. The house. The dog. The dinner parties. And for some reason, instead of excitement, all I feel is tired.
My grip tightens slightly around the stem of the champagne flute.
Maybe I’m overwhelmed from the wedding.
Maybe Calvin’s presence is just stirring up old memories.
Maybe I’m overthinking everything.
Why does this feel like I’m on-the-clock?
Evan keeps talking beside me, careful and considerate, always watching my face like he’s making sure he hasn’t said the wrong thing.
It’s sweet. It should feel safe. So why does part of me suddenly feel like I can’t breathe?
My pulse stumbles. I love Evan. I know I do.
The emcee’s voice rises gently above the conversation, inviting everyone to find their seats for dinner.
At the head table, Maddie and Riot are taking their seats with the bridesmaids and groomsmen while servers weave between tables. Guests lean into their salads, the tent echos with silverware clatter and easy chatter, the celebration moving forward.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Calvin kneeling beside a boy in a miniature suit.
He whispers something into the boy’s ear, and the boy’s shoulders ease, a shy smile breaking through.
Calvin points toward a little girl waiting at the edge of the floor, and the boy takes off running, grinning like he suddenly remembered how to be brave.
A muffled laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. Calvin doing what Calvin does. Not for attention. Not for anyone else’s applause. Just because making people feel okay seems wired into him somewhere.
“Jules?” Evan’s voice cuts back in.
I blink. “Sorry. What did you say?”
His expression softens. “I just want to make sure we’re moving forward together.”
His gaze holds mine. “I want you to be happy, Jules.”
The words wrap around my ribs, gentle but tight.
He means them. I know he does. Which somehow makes the guilt worse.
I lift my glass, forcing a small smile. “Thank you. I am.”
The words catch halfway up my throat, like I borrowed someone else’s answer. Maybe it’s just habit, keeping things smooth, keeping the peace.
I don’t know.
I just know something inside me keeps pulling in opposite directions.
Evan watches me carefully, like he’s waiting for something he can’t quite name.
I soften immediately, trying to smooth over whatever flickered across my face.
“Evan, this is Maddie’s day,” I say quietly. “Can we talk later?”
He nods, but worry flickers behind his eyes. A part of me still reaches for that sensible future, the one that’s neat and waiting.
I reach for my glass again just to have something to hold.
“Come on,” I say, forcing a lighter tone. “Everyone’s already eating. We should grab our seats before the salads disappear. I’m starving.”
The speeches begin once the salad plates are cleared, silverware traded for champagne flutes.
Cara goes first, wobbling slightly in her heels, already one glass of bubbly past composed. She taps her glass so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack.
“If anyone wants a maid of honor who gets it right the first time,” she declares, “hire someone else!”
Laughter ripples through the tables. Maddie groans in mock protest, cheeks glowing. Cara exhales, pink and tearful, but presses on.
“Love doesn’t get it right the first time. It stumbles, it improvises, it keeps choosing.”
Her words tumble fast and messy but honest. They land somewhere deep, stirring a truth I’m not ready to name. When she finishes, the applause is warm.
Riot takes the mic next. His voice cracks before he gets five words out, and Maddie laughs through her tears.
“She makes me better,” he says simply. “She picks me up when I fall.” Then he turns to Calvin. “To the best friend I never deserved. Thank you for standing by me, even when I didn’t make it easy.”
His voice roughens. “You are my brother.”
Calvin just nods. No show, no words. Like loyalty itself is answer enough.
Maddie’s turn comes last. Her voice trembles at first but relaxes as she goes. “You’ve all shown us that love isn’t just ours. It’s in every one of you who showed up today.”
Her gaze sweeps the room, eyes damp but glowing. When she finishes, applause rises like a wave.
Before it can fade, Mrs. Dorsey swoops in with a microphone of her own. “If the couple won’t cry, I’ll fix that!” she crows, breaking into a half-sung 1970s ballad and handing them a neon-pink drink “for eternal sweetness.”
The tent bursts with laughter. Chaos, warmth, and joy collide, somehow perfect in its imperfection.
I wipe my eyes, heart full. Cara’s messy honesty. Riot’s raw love. Maddie’s gratitude. Mrs. Dorsey’s wild heart. It all stitches together like the truest kind of celebration.
Around us, the room’s chatter swells again, a soft murmur of clinking forks and laughter as the servers weave through the tables. The air feels lighter now, charged with that kind of happiness that lingers after tears.
At the next table, a flower girl slips from her chair, scurries over, and tugs on Calvin’s sleeve. He bends without hesitation, hands fixing the bow on her shoe. “Princess rescue complete,” he murmurs. She beams, and he never notices anyone watching.
Beside me, Evan shifts, his shoulder brushing mine. “Kid’s got charm, I’ll give him that.”
I manage a small laugh. “Guess the kids like him.”
My smile stays, but something inside me moves. It’s small, almost unnoticeable. But it’s there.
And as the servers sweep in with trays of dinner, the scent of herbs and warm bread filling the tent, I feel the hardest part of tonight hasn’t even begun.
Dinner fades into Maddie and Riot’s first dance, then into everyone spinning beneath the lantern light. The crowd swells until the DJ cuts in, voice sharp over the music.
“Alright, single ladies, you know what time it is!”
Beyoncé’s Single Ladies thunders through the speakers, the beat bouncing off the tent walls. Maddie steps to the center of the dance floor, bouquet poised overhead. “Alright, no tackling!” she laughs, wildflowers and silk roses trembling in her grip.
I start easing toward the drinks table, planning my escape, but Cara spots me instantly.
“Oh no you don’t,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “Tradition demands your presence.”
Before I can wriggle free, she’s already steering me toward the crowd gathering behind Maddie.
I spot Calvin a few steps away, drink in hand, smirking as he takes in the scene.
“Don’t go hiding from fate now, Jules,” he calls, eyes locking on mine.
I reach a hand toward him in mock desperation. A silent save me.
He just chuckles, tipping his glass in a lazy salute as I’m dragged toward my own demise.
“Three… two… one!” Maddie grins like she’s about to launch the bouquet into orbit. The music swells. She fakes one toss. Groans all around. Then, without warning, sends it soaring.
For a heartbeat, time slows. Petals scatter like confetti. Arms flail. A shoe goes flying. The bouquet ricochets off the chandelier and lands square in my palms, like fate had better aim than I did.
My fingers tighten around it on instinct.
“Jules! You’re next!” Cara whoops. Riot roars his approval.
Near the edge of the dance floor, Faith presses a hand to her mouth, smiling wide, eyes glistening like she’s seeing something she always hoped might be true.
The DJ’s voice booms again. “That’s how it works! And now this one’s for all the lovers in the house.” He slides into the syrupy chords of Shania Twain’s From This Moment On.
Couples sway as they drift back to the floor, the lyrics floating soft and certain over the chaos. A promise sweet on their lips but sinking heavy in my chest.
I catch Calvin’s gaze. No smirk this time. Just an even look, unguarded, like he sees through the noise and straight into me.
The bouquet feels heavier than it should, awkward in my grip. It smells like promise and warning all at once, the weight of every girlhood dream you pretend to outgrow but never really do, because some part of you still hopes it might come true.
And maybe that’s what terrifies me most.
I smile at Maddie, cheeks aching, and edge toward the drinks table, the closest refuge from all this attention.
My clutch vibrates. I fish it open with one hand, petals brushing my thumb as I check the screen.
Evan: Can we talk? Just us. I’m outside.
The cheers and music blur. My pulse stumbles. I start to glance toward the doors, but my gaze stops on Calvin instead. Still in the room. Still unflinching… and somehow more dangerous than the text in my hand.
And in that single heartbeat, I know the chasm between Evan and me is about to be laid bare.