Chapter 1

At our engagement party, my fiancé dropped to one knee in front of the woman he always introduced as his female “bro”—then placed one of his late father’s wedding cuff links in her hand.

For one second, everyone thought he was proposing.

The black jewelry box was still open between them.

“Sloane Mercer,” Owen said, grinning up at her, “will you be my best man?”

A few people laughed.

Then they saw what was inside the box, and the laughter thinned out.

The cuff link rested against the black velvet, antique silver catching the chandelier light.

Owen’s father had left him the pair after he died.

Owen had promised me he would wear them at our wedding.

Instead, six weeks before that wedding, he was giving half of his father’s legacy to another woman while I stood three steps away with a champagne flute in my hand.

Sloane snatched up the cuff link and threw her arms around his neck.

“Of course, bro. Without me, you’d probably wear your tie backward.”

Owen laughed and steadied her with a hand at her waist.

Only then did the room join in with applause.

Sloane pinned the cuff link to the neckline of her dress. Then she looked straight at me.

“Don’t worry, Harper. I got him from puberty to thirty-one. I can get him down the aisle.”

Her fingers closed over the silver.

“Whether he turns into a decent husband afterward? That part’s on you.”

The laughter came louder that time.

My fingernails dug into the stem of my glass.

I set it carefully on the nearest table before anyone could see my hand shake.

I had no problem with a woman serving as best man.

I had a problem with the man who was supposed to marry me giving away the most visible role on his side of our wedding—and a piece of his father—without saying one word to me first.

Once the groomsmen crowded around Sloane, I pulled Owen into the hallway.

“When did you decide this?”

“Last month.” He looked toward the ballroom, where Sloane was already showing off the cuff link. “She’s been my best friend since high school. It makes perfect sense.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was a surprise. We’re each supposed to choose our own wedding party.” His expression tightened. “You chose Maya. I chose Sloane. You wouldn’t like it if I interfered with your maid of honor.”

I looked past him at the empty place in the cuff-link box.

“What about the pair? You said you were going to wear them together.”

“It’s just a symbol.” Owen lowered his voice. “Don’t make this awkward tonight. Everyone’s happy for us.”

For us.

Except I had not been part of the decision.

The click of heels sounded behind me.

Sloane had already pinned the cuff link over her heart like a medal she had won.

She waved her phone in the air.

“I messaged the wedding coordinator before the party,” she said. “I’ll handle the groom’s entrance, the bachelor weekend, and the speech.”

She passed Owen, giving his shoulder an affectionate pat, then turned back to me.

“Relax, bride. I’m only in charge of his side.”

Her smile widened.

“But you’ll find his side usually runs the whole show.”