Chapter 1

After seven years together, Joan Quinton and I finally walked into the studio for our pre-wedding photos.

Derek Blake—my old college roommate and the guy who'd introduced us—tagged along.

The second he put on his custom best-man suit, Joan's eyes lit up.

She immediately wanted a few pictures with him.

I was standing in the middle in my wedding suit when Derek rubbed his nose and laughed.

"Dude, I look like a bodyguard."

Joan instantly pulled me aside and gave him the center spot.

The camera flashed.

The two of them looked way too natural together. Like they were the ones getting married.

While we picked out photos, Joan tapped the shot of all three of us.

"Let's blow this one up for the reception."

I looked at her. "Why would another guy be front and center in a photo at our wedding?"

She shoved the mouse away. "You're a grown man. Why are you being so petty? If Derek hadn't introduced us, would we even be together?"

"It's just a photo. I'm still marrying you, aren't I?"

I stared at myself on the screen.

Even in my best suit, I looked like I didn't belong.

Just because you're standing somewhere doesn't mean it's your place.

And just like that, I was done fighting to be front and center.

Chapter 1

Clint's POV

I unclenched my fist. My voice came out weirdly calm.

"Fine. Use that one."

Joan froze, like she hadn't expected me to cave that fast.

Derek patted her shoulder. "Joan, forget it. Clint's obviously not happy. I don't want to cause problems between you guys. I can stand anywhere."

That was Derek. Always saying just enough to sound like the good guy.

Joan frowned and patted his hand. "What's he even upset about?"

"If you hadn't brought him into our circle, he never would've met me."

Every word stung.

I stared at the blown-up photo on the screen.

Derek looked sharp in his expensive suit, smiling like he owned the place.

Joan had turned toward him, her eyes full of obvious warmth.

And me?

I was stuck on the edge like some random extra who'd walked onto the wrong set.

I pulled out my phone and paid the studio bill.

"Email me the originals. Use this one for the reception display. Do whatever you want with the rest."

I turned and pushed through the studio's glass door.

Joan hurried after me and grabbed my arm. "What's your problem now? Derek came all this way to help, and this is how you act?"

I pulled free. "I'm not making a scene. Didn't I agree to use the photo?"

She hesitated, her face hardening. "You'd better mean it."

Derek jogged out with two coffees. "Guys, quit fighting. I got your favorite lattes."

He handed one to Joan, then held the other out to me.

Joan took her drink, stuck the straw in, then handed it back to Derek.

"Your stomach's sensitive. Don't drink anything too cold. Take this hot one."

Then she turned to me. "Clint, you can have the iced one. Your should be fine."

I stared at the steaming latte in Derek's hand.

Half sweet. Extra shot.

My favorite.

The iced one she gave me? With my stomach ulcer, there was no way I could drink it.

Just yesterday, she'd marked my follow-up endoscopy on the calendar.

She hadn't forgotten.

She was just used to putting me second whenever Derek was around.

I ignored the iced coffee and headed straight for the car.

"Let's go. We still have to pick up the wedding bands."

The ride was dead silent.

At the jewelry store, the associate slid a velvet box toward us.

Inside, two diamond rings sparkled under the lights.

Our initials were engraved inside, split by a tiny heart.

I'd spent three months' salary on them and designed them myself.

They were everything I'd wanted this relationship to be.

Joan picked up the men's ring without even looking at me.

"Derek, your ring finger is about the same size as Clint's. Try it on."

My head snapped up.

'A wedding ring. And she wanted another guy to wear it?'

Derek scratched the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly, but I caught a smug glint in his eyes.

"Isn't that kinda weird? It's his wedding ring."

"What's weird about checking the size? Clint's not gonna freak out over something this small."

Then Joan took Derek's hand and slowly slid my ring onto his finger.

It fit perfectly.

Derek held up his hand, admiring the diamond under the lights.

"It's gorgeous. Joan's got great taste."

I stared at the ring as my stomach twisted.

"Take it off."

Derek flinched and shot Joan a helpless look.

He tugged at the ring, but it caught on his knuckle.

"Ow... It's stuck. That hurts." He sucked in a sharp breath.

Joan immediately grabbed his hand and tried to ease the ring off.

"Don't force it. What if you hurt yourself?"

Then she glared at me. "Couldn't you have ordered it half a size bigger? Why'd you make it so tight?"

I just stared at her.

She was blaming me because my own wedding ring didn't fit another guy.

My chest tightened, and every breath tasted like metal.

I didn't argue. Didn't snap.

I pulled out my phone and saved the original photos the studio had just sent.

'These might come in handy someday.'

Half an hour later, the ring was still stuck on Derek's finger.

Joan stared at his swollen knuckle, worried.

"Forget it. Leave it on for now. We'll take it off once the swelling goes down."

Then she walked him outside, leaving me alone in the jewelry store.

I looked at the empty velvet box. The whole thing felt like a joke.

By the time I got out of the store, Derek had left. Only Joan was waiting for me.

I got into the passenger seat out of habit.

It was shoved all the way forward.

Derek's silver lighter was wedged between the leather seats, and the car reeked of his usual woody cologne.

Chapter 2

I stared at the lighter, then quietly moved to the back seat.

Joan frowned at me through the mirror. "Why are you back there? Am I your chauffeur now?"

"The front's too cramped. My legs don't fit."

Three years ago, she'd promised the passenger seat would always be mine.

Now she couldn't even bother moving it back.

When we got home, I punched in our usual six-digit code.

Error.

The door stayed locked.

I froze.

Joan stepped up and casually entered Derek's birthday.

Beep.

The door opened.

I turned to her, stiff.

She walked inside like it was no big deal.

"Derek said the old code was too hard to remember. He comes by sometimes to grab documents or packages, so it was annoying."

"So I changed it to his birthday."

'She changed the code to our apartment to another guy's birthday.'

I took a slow breath and ignored the chill spreading through my chest.

I opened the bedroom door—and froze again.

The dark gray bedding I'd picked out was gone, replaced by some flashy champagne-colored set.

My cedar diffuser was gone too. Now the whole room reeked of citrus.

Derek walked out of the kitchen with a plate of sliced fruit.

"Clint, you're back." He nodded toward the bedroom. "The gray felt kinda depressing, so I switched it out. Joan liked this better too."

Then he lifted his hand, the diamond ring flashing under the light.

"Oh, and I'm keeping the ring on a couple more days. Joan's worried I'll hurt my finger forcing it off."

He acted like he lived there.

I looked at Joan. "This is what you meant by him helping us?"

She tugged at her collar, annoyed. "Derek has better taste than you. What's the big deal? It's just bedding."

"Quit acting like such a victim. You make it sound like we're bullying you."

I didn't argue. I just looked at her.

Piece by piece, she was killing whatever hope I had left for us.

My stare must've gotten to her because she pulled a bank card from her wallet and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"The PIN's your birthday. If you hate the bedding that much, buy another set tomorrow."

"Derek spent all day helping us. I'm taking him out to dinner as a thank-you."

She grabbed the keys and left with him, slamming the door behind them.

The apartment went dead quiet.

I picked up the card.

This was how Joan apologized.

Hurt me first. Then throw money at it.

But I didn't want any of it anymore.

I pulled out my phone and called the real estate agent.

"Mr. Smith, put my apartment on the market."

Joan and I had split the mortgage, but my parents had paid the down payment, and the deed was in my name alone.

Mr. Smith sounded stunned. "Mr. Crawford, wasn't that supposed to be your future home? Why sell it now?"

"The wedding's off."

My voice came out so calm, it surprised even me.

After I hung up, I started packing.

Clothes. Laptop. Books.

I didn't have much. Everything fit into two suitcases.

I grabbed the old dark gray bedding and dumped it in the hallway trash.

Once something's ruined, there's no point keeping it.

When I was done, I sat alone in the empty living room and stared at the framed painting still leaning against the wall.

Joan had painted it herself—the summer we first met.

Now it just looked like a joke.

Early the next morning, Mr. Smith called.

"Mr. Crawford, I've got a buyer who's really interested. They want to see the apartment today. Does that work?"

I glanced at the empty closet.

"Anytime."

Chapter 3

After I hung up with Mr. Smith, I took my suitcases to a hotel near work.

I'd barely checked in when my phone lit up.

Derek had posted something.

It was the photo from yesterday—the three of us.

Except Joan and Derek were front and center, grinning like a couple.

I'd been cropped almost completely out.

Just one blurry shoulder left.

His caption said:

[Some places aren't yours just because you're standing in them. Thanks, Joan, for always choosing me.]

Our mutual friends had already jumped into the comments.

[Wow. If I didn't know better, I'd think Derek was the groom.]

[Joan really does treat Derek better than everyone else. Same as always.]

[Best friend? Dude gets more attention than the actual groom.]

I stared at the comments.

It was almost funny.

I wasn't mad anymore.

I just felt cold.

I screenshotted the post, then grabbed a cab to Joan's office.

I opened the CEO's office door and found them sitting way too close, sharing the same takeout.

Joan picked up a piece of food and fed it straight to Derek.

The second she saw me, her hand froze.

"Why didn't you knock?"

She pulled back fast and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

I walked to the desk and looked at Derek's hand.

My custom wedding band was still on his finger.

Covered in sauce and crumbs.

I stared at it. "Could you at least be careful when you eat?"

Derek blinked like he had no clue what I was talking about and wiped the ring with a napkin.

"My finger's still swollen. I can't get it off. You don't mind that it got a little dirty, right?"

Joan frowned, instantly taking his side.

"It's just grease. Once the swelling goes down, he'll take it off and get it cleaned."

"Did you seriously come all the way here just to start something over this?"

I pulled up his post and held out my phone.

"Tell him to delete it."

Joan barely glanced at the screen before pushing my hand away.

"They're joking. Why are you making it such a big deal?"

"Derek's done a lot for us. What's wrong with him posting one picture?"

She'd said almost the same thing before.

Except back then, she'd gone off on our friends for making me the joke.

Now she was the one helping them humiliate me.

I lowered my phone.

"Joan Quinton, let's postpone the wedding."

The office went dead silent.

Derek rubbed his nose, pretending to be shocked.

Joan shot to her feet, furious.

"Are you insane? The invitations are already out, and now you want to postpone it?"

"You think threatening me with the wedding is gonna make me put up with your tantrums?"

She pointed at the door. "Get out. Go cool off and stop embarrassing yourself."

I looked at her for a second, then turned and left.

The second I stepped outside, HR called.

"Clint, have you decided about the three-year assignment at our overseas branch? There's only one opening, and you need to sign today."

I looked up at the blinding sun.

"I'll sign."

Back at the hotel, a credit card alert popped up.

Five figures.

From the fanciest watch store in the city.

And the watch?

The exact limited-edition one Derek had liked in a post the day before.

Chapter 4

I stared at the charge, too drained even to laugh.

She'd used the card I'd given her, which was linked to my account, to buy another guy a five-figure watch.

Meanwhile, the suit she'd picked for me yesterday was some cheap rental her assistant found.

Three days later, we had our final rehearsal and menu tasting.

I got to the hotel ballroom on time and pushed through the doors.

Derek was already onstage in a brand-new custom suit, that five-figure limited-edition watch flashing on his wrist.

Joan stood below, looking up at him like he hung the moon.

If I didn't know I was the groom, I would've thought I'd walked into someone else's wedding.

The second Joan saw me, her smile vanished.

She hurried over, trying to sound casual even as guilt flashed across her face. "Derek's always wanted a watch like this. I'm his friend. I just helped make it happen. Your rental suit looks fine too. Don't be so petty."

I looked at her, calm as ever. "Buying him a watch with my card. Real generous."

Her face tightened before anger took over. "So I spent some of your money. Once we're married, won't all my money be yours anyway?

"Do you seriously have to embarrass me in front of everyone?"

I ignored her outburst and walked straight to the tasting table.

Servers were setting out plates of upscale seafood.

Serving top-quality seafood at weddings was a tradition in my family.

Joan took one look and slammed her hand on the table. "Who approved this? Don't you know Derek's allergic to seafood?

"Take all of it away. Make the whole menu vegetarian."

The banquet manager looked at me, unsure.

I stood and met Joan's eyes. "This is my wedding. I picked the menu. Why should everything change because of him?"

Derek sighed and lightly grabbed her sleeve.

"Joan, stop. I just won't eat. I don't want to ruin Clint's wedding over this. I'll be fine."

Then he picked up a piece of shrimp and popped it into his mouth. "See? A little won't hurt me."

Before he could finish, he grabbed his throat.

His face turned red.

Then he collapsed.

"Derek!"

Joan's face twisted with rage as she shoved me aside. "Are you happy now? If anything happens to Derek, I'll never forgive you."

I lost my balance and hit the floor.

My palm came down on shards of broken glass.

Pain shot through my hand as blood spilled across the white carpet.

Joan didn't even look back.

She hauled Derek up and rushed him out of the ballroom.

The whole room erupted into chaos.

I stayed on the floor, watching blood run down my palm.

'It barely hurts.'

Compared to the last seven years, what was a little pain?

I pulled out my phone and called the wedding planner. "Ms. Wesley?"

"Yes, Mr. Crawford. What can I do for you?"

I looked around the empty ballroom and spoke slowly.

"Cancel the wedding. Take everything down."

"But does Ms. Quinton know?"

She didn't need to know anymore.

Because the groom was finally done with her.