Chapter 1

At my best friend's wedding, she thrust the bouquet into my hands with a mischievous grin. "So, when are you finally tying the knot with your little sweetheart?"

Before I could respond, Emmitt Sweeney, my boyfriend, who was six years younger than I was, spoke up. "Why rush? I still want to enjoy myself for a few more years."

I idly twirled the vibrant petals, my red nails flashing in front of him as I said lightly, "I'm not waiting anymore. I'm getting married in six months."

He misread my words as pressure to marry him, and his expression instantly dropped. Using the excuse of a so-called "bachelor party," he spent nights out, flaunting his wild nightlife on Twitter.

It wasn't until a week before the wedding, when he glimpsed the enormous wedding portrait of a man who resembled him by about seventy percent but carried the maturity of a hundred men, that he was truly shocked.

He had never realized that the groom I was waiting for had never been him.

*****

"Lucille, you're almost thirty, and you still think you can trap me into a wedding?" Emmitt's voice came through the phone, rough with hangover and dripping with mockery.

I was standing in front of the mirror, slowly applying lipstick, pausing for a moment as I heard him.

"Listen, even if I never marry, I would never marry an older woman six years my senior. If you know what's good for you, wait until I finish having fun. Maybe then I'll make it official," he declared.

The reflection in the mirror had charming eyes, smooth skin, and bold red lips curved into a subtle smile.

Older woman? I chuckled to myself.

"Oh, really?" I said, blowing lightly on my freshly painted nails. "Well, the invitations are already sent. The wedding is in six months."

Silence stretched across the line.

I could picture Emmitt's face perfectly. He must be like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, both stunned and furious.

"Lucille, you wouldn't dare!" he barked. "You think this will scare me? Absolutely not. I'm telling you. I will not agree to this wedding."

"Whether you agree or not doesn't matter," I said, setting down my nail polish and reaching for my purse. "After all, you're not the groom."

With that, I hung up decisively.

Almost immediately, my phone began blowing up again. I glanced at the screen. "My Little Sweetheart" was flashing. I laughed and then blocked him without hesitation.

Today was my best friend's wedding, and as her bridesmaid, I had no time for his cat-and-mouse game.

*****

The wedding was an absolute blast.

My best friend looked radiant in her white dress, her arm linked with her groom's as she beamed, her smile sweeter than honey.

When it was time for the bouquet toss, that symbol of happiness landed squarely in my arms.

The crowd around us erupted in cheers and whistles.

My best friend leaned in, giving me a playful look. "Nice one, Lucille! Looks like you're next. So, when are you going to let your little sweetheart out for a walk?"

Before I could respond, someone jumped in at the worst possible moment. "What's the rush? I still want to have some fun for a few more years."

Out of nowhere, Emmitt appeared, wearing designer streetwear and looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. He leaned against the doorframe, smirking. His eyes scanned me as if I were another thing he owned.

My best friend instantly looked awkward, her smile faltering.

But I smiled back, meeting Emmitt's challenging gaze. I lightly ran my painted fingers over the rose petals in my arms.

"I'm not waiting anymore," I said, my red lips barely moving, but my words clear for everyone. "Let's do it in six months. Wedding planning is a hassle anyway."

Emmitt's face immediately soured.

He probably thought I was forcing him in this way, making him look bad in front of everyone.

He snorted loudly, his face full of annoyance and reluctance. "Fine, six months then. Bring it on."

Then, he pulled out his phone and shouted to his friends right in front of me. "Yo, guys, we're hitting Nightfall tonight. Time to celebrate my last night of freedom!"

Laughter and cheers rang out from the other end of the line.

Emmitt hung up, gave me a defiant look, and strutted off as if he were headed to the wildest party of his life.

My best friend stamped her foot in frustration. "Lucille, are you seriously still enabling him? You're not married to him yet, and he's already acting like this. Imagine what he'll be like after the wedding."

I patted her hand to calm her down, my eyes following Emmitt as he disappeared into the crowd. My smile only grew wider.

It was good for him to have this bachelor party, anyway.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "Hey, Ruth, it's me, Lucille."

A gentle voice came through the line. "Lucille, is everything ready for the wedding? Lorenzo and I are so excited."

"Pretty much all set," I said with a smile. "But I was hoping you could help me out with something. Emmitt might be crashing at a friend's place tonight."

Ruth paused for a moment, her voice turning sharp. "That little brat! Is he giving you trouble again? Don't worry. I'll call him right now and make him come home."

"No need, Ruth," I replied, taking my time. "Actually, since he's out, it's a good opportunity for us to go over the wedding details. Like the style for the wedding photos. I still prefer the vintage vibe your son suggested last time."

I made sure to emphasize "your son."

Ruth let out a pleased chuckle on the other end of the line. "You're always so sensible, Lucille, not like Emmitt. He has no sense of style at all. Alright, vintage it is."

After hanging up, I gazed out the window. Night had already fallen.

For Emmitt, tonight truly was a bachelor party worth celebrating.

Because after tonight, he'd never get another shot.