Chapter 1: You're Marrying My Ex?

Savannah

“I'm getting married!”

I blinked. “Huh? You were dating?”

“Of course I was, dummy. You know I love being in love.” My sister, Chloe laughed.

She was glowing. That was the first red flag. “Is it to the guy named Zane with a silent G? The one you met at the three-month yoga retreat in LA?”

“Ew no. Zane was an asshole.” She snapped.

“Umm, congrats I guess… but who's the lucky guy?” Unlucky, if I was free to be honest.

Chloe held out a crisp, green and cream-colored envelope with silver calligraphy. I took the wedding invitation and unfolded it, dread already settling in at the back of my head.

“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Chloe Hart and Dean Archer.”

My heart didn’t just sink, it free-fell through my stomach and straight out my body. “Dean Archer,” I said slowly. “My Dean?”

Chloe swiftly snatched her wedding invite from my trembling fingers. “MY Dean,” Chloe chirped. “Isn’t it crazy? It all just… clicked. He came back to New Hope last Christmas, we reconnected, and—boom. Instant.”

I stared at my sister like she was speaking in tongues. Dean Archer was my college ex. The one who left me without a real explanation. Dumped me via text on my birthday.

The ex I never got over.

The one who knew all the right buttons to push and disappeared just when I’d started to believe in him.

“You're marrying my ex?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Your ex? Was that actually a relationship? That old fling? C'mon sis.”

My mouth went dry. Chloe rose from the couch and stepped forward as if to greet me, then stopped abruptly, her nose wrinkled in delicate horror.

"Oh. No, I don’t think I can hug you. You’ve got ink on your hands, and I just had this sweater dry-cleaned."

She wore a pastel-pink cable-knit sweater over a white satin tank top, paired with pressed cream linen pants and ballet flats that had never seen a scuff. Her blonde hair was tucked into a perfect low bun. Every part of her screamed effortless grace.

Me, in contrast, stood in the doorway in a rumpled button-down, a charcoal skirt that barely grazed my thighs, one heel hanging on for dear life, and black ink smudged across my three fingers.

I stared at her, stunned into silence.

Chloe sipped her wine. "You okay? You look a little pale. Is it the vertigo again? Maybe skip the champagne toast at the wedding. I’d hate for you to go down during the vows. That'd be embarrassing, Sav. Anyway, you’re gonna be my maid of honor. Fingers crossed, you catch the bouquet. My fiancé has good looking friends you could manage to impress.”

I stared at her. “I left the office in a hurry, broke my freaking stiletto, ran three red-lights, fought with drunk drivers and nearly crashed my Audi, just to get home to you, Chloe. You said it was an emergency!”

She paused mid-sip. “Oh… I'm sorry I had no idea. I just thought you were late because you got distracted by a Zara window again.” She giggled.

“Nope.”

“Well, if you did though it'd come in handy now because you know I'm quite particular about colours, shades and fabrics.” She rambled on.

It was my turn to roll my eyes, “Let me hear it.”

“It's green. But not the basic one… it's a bit more intense.” She describes.

“You mean emerald green?” I asked flatly.

“It’s not just emerald green, okay? God, do I look like someone who wears something off-the-rack? No. It’s more like… if envy and royalty had a scandalous love child. Think deep forest glimmering with silent judgment. Rich. Regal. But also don’t-touch-me sharp. Not teal. Not moss. Not jade. And absolutely not that murky mall-green you find in discount bins where your OOTD comes from. This shade says, ‘Yes, I’ve arrived, and no, I don’t care that you’re staring’.”

My mouth hung up.

“That's emerald, Chlo.” I argued.

“No, it's not. That shit is basic. For the fabric? Silk. Rich silk. Can you afford that, Sav? You're gonna be my maid of honor, you have to look presentable enough to play the part. Don’t bring your Walmart thrifts to my event.”

Something snapped within me.

If this is how you wanna play, then let's play, baby sis.

“Can I bring a date?”

She glanced up from her phone. “You haven't had a decent relationship in years. Who could you possibly be bringing?”

I lifted my chin. "Actually, I've got big news to share too… wanted to keep it a secret but now? Not so much."

“You got promoted at work?”

“I'm engaged.”

Chloe choked on her sip. "You?"

I beamed, “Yes, I'm getting married too.”

Chloe made a face as if her wine had suddenly turned bitter. “That's huge. And who's the brave guy?”

"Roman Blackwood. You know, my best friend. He works in finance." I lied without blinking.

Chloe's brows shot up. "Roman? The one who always texts you during family dinners and sends Dad cigars at Christmas? That Roman?"

I forced a smile. "The very one. We’ve kept it quiet. Didn’t want to steal anyone’s thunder."

Chloe blinked. "Hmm. I mean... good for you. I didn’t think you were the relationship type, but here we are. Must be something in the air."

“Must be."

I turned toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, my fingers trembling just enough to clink the glass against the tap.

"But, uh, let’s not tell the family just yet. We’re still figuring out the timing. You know Roman is always busy and only gets to take two vacations in twelve months and I'm always busy booking meetings and controlling schedules. We don't want to get overwhelmed with the whole process. You understand, right?"

Chloe rose and grabbed her purse, that same serene smile on her face as she headed for the door.

“Crystal," she said in a voice like a sugar cube melting in tea. "I've got you. Love you, sis."

And then she was gone. Leaving behind her perfume… and chaos.

Immediately, my phone started vibrating in my bag. After rummaging for minutes, I finally found it and nearly dropped it instantly with a shriek.

Chloe had opened her big mouth and told literally everyone from our genepool that I was getting married.

The family group chat was heating up. Mom, dad, our older sister, Alyssa, Aunt Janice, Aunt Thelma, Uncle Jace…. Literally everybody that saw me in diapers!

Shit!

I've got to warn Roman.

Chapter 2: Let's Ruin A Wedding.

Savannah

I didn’t knock on the door, I pounded.Roman’s door swung open a few seconds later, revealing him in nothing but a pair of blindingly white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and sleep-tousled hair.

I wasn't fazed. Roman usually sleeps naked. “Nice boxers. Very... spiritual monk energy you have going on,” I said, breezing inside.

Roman rubbed his eyes, “It’s one in the morning. Did you set something on fire again?”

I kicked the door shut behind me, my heel finally giving up and snapping clean off. “Just my life.”

Roman sighed and knelt, without a word, helping me out of my shoes as usual.

“Roman, I did something horrible.”

Roman's face morphs into one of seriousness. He briskly walks to the widows, looks both ways then snaps them shut and proceeds to do that to all the windows.

“How bad is it? Do I need to hide a body or bail you out of jail? Be honest.” He said.

“My sister’s getting married,” I said, breathless.

“I'm lost.”

“To Dean Archer.”

Roman frowned. “Wait, the Dean Archer?”

I nod.

He paused. “Shit. Can she do that? Isn’t there a code against that?”

“She told me like she was announcing she made partner at Vogue. In freaking pastel.”

Roman pulled me into a hug. “I'm so sorry, love. I'll make popcorn and ice-cream. We'll watch Scream and you can call in sick at the office tomorrow.” He suggested.

I spun dramatically, dizzying myself. Roman reached to steady me instinctively, one hand at my waist.

“Savannah—careful. Vertigo?”

I collapsed to my knees in the middle of his kitchen, clapped my hands together like I was begging for a miracle.

“Please don’t kill me. I lied. I did a very, very bad thing.”

Roman squinted. “What did you do?”

“Say you forgive me first.”

“Savannah.”

“Say it, Roman. Or I’m never getting up.”

He groaned. “Fine. I forgive you. Now stand up before I have to carry you.”

I stood, dusted myself off, and blurted, “I told Chloe we’re engaged.”

Roman blinked. “You what?”

“She was smug and shiny and waving her invitation card like a disco ball, and I panicked. I told her we’ve been secretly in love this whole time.”

He rubbed a hand down his face, exhaled, and said, “You showed up here at midnight to ask me to be your fake fiancé because you lied to your entire family to one-up your sister?”

“Yes.”

He leaned against the counter. “I was supposed to be in Tuscany next week. There are hot models. Clubs. Parties. Cocktails. Poolside massages. Magnificent D cups … You know what happens in Tuscany.”

I batted my lashes. “You could still have models. Just... add me to the mix.”

He gave me a look. “Savannah.”

“Roman.”

“You couldn’t have said... like, Jake from accounting?”

“You’re the only one they know.”

“That’s fair.”

“The more I think about this, the more ridiculous it sounds,” he said, finally walking to the kitchen. “You fake-engaged me to your entire family, to outdo your sister who’s marrying your ex, and now we’re driving to New Hope to pull off this epic lie?”

I nodded.

“Okay, okay, counteroffer—I give you my next paycheck. Just the one. And maybe my soul.”

Roman snorted. “Love, your paycheck wouldn’t cover my shoelaces. I bought you a winter coat last Christmas that cost six times your rent.”

“And I love that coat,” I said sweetly. “See? I’m grateful. Please, Roman… I can't survive one week in New Hope without you by my side. I need you with me to fight my evil sister.”

He watched me, his eyes softer now. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend.”

“I love you.” I squealed.

Roman sighed. “When do we leave for New Hope?”

“In two weeks.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair. “Great. Let’s ruin a wedding.”

I practically threw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms and legs around him like a koala.

“Thank you! I knew you would agree!”

“Yeah, don't get too excited.”

I exhaled, finally allowing myself to sit down on his couch.

Roman glanced at me, then walked to the kitchen.

“I’m still making popcorn.”

“Huh?”

“And ice cream too. You need both. Preferably in the same bowl.”

I smiled, heart swelling. “You’re the best fake fiancé a girl could ask for.”

He returned minutes later with a giant bowl of buttered popcorn and another with vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate sauce and crushed Oreos.

He handed me a spoon and flopped down beside me.

“Come on,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’re not making me cuddle alone.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re in your underwear.”

“And yet, still the more clothed one in this friendship.”

I settled into his side, sighing. “You’re really going to do this for me?”

Roman kissed the top of my head. “I’ve been doing stuff for you since the day we met. This one’s just got better snacks.”

“Only if you ignore Chloe.”

“Do we have to kiss?” Roman asked.

The thought struck me like lightning, jerking me up in seconds.

“Oh shit!”

Roman smirked. “You really thought of everything but that?”

“How'd I forget that?”

“I’m sorry… Did you think engaged people do finger guns and fist bumps at dinner parties?” He joked.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d need a full kissing strategy! But now I’m imagining us standing awkwardly next to the cake like coworkers who accidentally RSVP’d yes to the same wedding.” I cringed at the image. “I suggest we practice, Roman.”

He shifts closer, slowly, like a lion circling an antelope.

“Practice?”

“Yes! This is a tongue-related crisis.”

Roman laughed.

“One trial kiss,” I insist. “A simulation. For science.”

“You want to kiss me... for science?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Roman stops just in front of me.

There’s only an inch of space between us now, and suddenly the air is different—thicker, warmer, dangerous.

His gaze flicks to my mouth.

“Alright, Hart… Let’s practice.” He grins. “I must warn you, I'm sort of a pro at this.”

My breath catches as I lean in.

Closer.

My eyes locked on his. Roman’s lips part slightly—

Then I violently press my index finger and thumb down on my nose as if getting a bad whiff.

Roman blinks. His face is a mashup of confusion and shock.

“...Are you okay?”

I gasped dramatically, nose pinched.

“Is my cologne too strong?”

“Your ego. It’s choking me. I needed to make sure I could breathe before I died mid-kiss.” I cackled.

Roman just stares at me.

I released my nose, looking proud.

“You really thought this was the perfect opportunity for a prank?” Roman asked.

“I’m legally obligated to humble you once a week. Consider this your dose.”

He drags a hand down his face. “You’re the most chaotic fake fiancée on the planet.”

“You’re welcome.”

We were halfway through the movie when Roman picked up his phone and absently started scrolling.

I was mid-rant about how I'd have to sell my kidney and my car to look on theme judging from how Chloe overemphasised on the colour and fabric for the wedding when Roman suddenly went quiet.

Too quiet.

“What?” I asked, glancing up at him.

His expression was unreadable, then he turned the screen toward me.

It was Instagram… A DM request to be specific.

“Sav, why is your ex-boyfriend slash brother-in-law sending me a message request?”

Chapter 3: Voicenote incoming…

The Next Day…

Mom:

"Can't wait to see your fiancé, sweetie!!”

Aunt Carol:

"Omg!!! Chloe said he’s GORGEOUS."

Chloe:

“Eeeee! So happy for you, Sav!”

I rolled my eyes at the last two messages in the group chat. It's not as if Chloe knows what Roman looks like— except now that she's actively stalking him on social media.

Just like her husband-to-be.

The clatter of keyboards filled the office. Phones ringing left, right and center. The smell of caffeine and papers thick in the air.

I sat at my desk, trying to look busy while my phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. If this continues, I'm certain my boss, Terry Goldberg wouldn't hesitate when handing me my sack letter.

Another message popped in, my colleagues gave me the stink eye as I finally decided to turn it off.

New Hope was on fire. Word had spread like pollen in spring…

‘Savannah Hart was coming back with a man. For the second time in her life’.

With a fiancé this time. With Roman Blackwood.

My ex was getting married and I’d panicked myself into the lie of the century. And now there was no turning back.

A knock landed on my desk.

I blinked up.

An intern hovered with an elegant black box that looked heavy. The kind of box that whispered, there's wealth in here.

But on a more intense look, bombs are usually packaged this way too.

“Delivery for you.”

I stared. “Is it ticking?”

The intern shrugged. “If it is, it’s ticking in cursive.”

I eyed the box suspiciously. “Does it say who it's from?”

The intern shrugged. Again.

My colleagues began whispering and craning their necks to get a better look.

“Great. Thank you.”

The box wasn't heavy as I expected as I looked for an empty cubicle to lock myself in.

I set the box down in an empty stall and unwrapped the package that came with no card.

It was a silk dress. The type that clung onto your skin like a good scent.

This was not just any dress. This was THE dress.

A stunning emerald green, low necked, bare-backed showstopping dress with a decent thigh slit that announced the wearer's arrival without saying a word.

Wow

Beneath the dress lay the note I was looking for earlier in smooth, clean strokes of ink that smelled expensive.

“Figured if we’re going to sell this, you need to look like heartbreak in heels. You don't have to sell your car…

– R.”

My hands trembled as I read the note three times. Then I called him…

He picked up on the second ring. “You got it?”

My voice came out cracked. “Roman… This dress looks like it belongs on a red carpet. Not in New Hope.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn't even think you were listening to me last night.”

“I'm always listening to you.”

I swallowed. “How much did this cost?”

“Enough to ruin your sister’s day.”

I paused, then laughter slipped out of my mouth.

“You’re insane,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he replied smoothly. “You’re not walking into that wedding looking like a cautionary tale. You’re walking in like a fucking event.”

My heart thudded. “I could kiss you.”

“You will,” Roman said, calm. Steady. “In front of your entire family. Repeatedly.”

“Oh, God… you make it sound worse when you say it that way.” I groaned.

“And your ex too.” Roman added.

“That, I'm excited for.” We laughed. “He's still texting you?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I get the vibe he suspects we're lying or one of us is using the other.”

“What?”

“The dude does know you though… on a much deeper level.” He winced.

“What do you mean?”

“He claims to be happy for us but he turns around and lets me know you used to tell him that you'd never date a guy like me. What's up with that?”

My palms became sweaty. “And what'd you say?”

“Me? I just told him how much fun he must be at therapy.”

I burst out into laughter in the middle of the bathroom stall. “I can imagine his face.”

“You know you could have picked Colin from Eastview Firm? Or Ethan from HR…” Roman suggested. “The more mysterious, the better.”

“They're both my exes. Everyone on that darn group chat knows when I broke up with both of them. Besides, Ethan only lasted long enough to serve one purpose.”

“Gross… don't remind me.”

I can imagine Roman wrinkling his face in disgust.

“Where are you anyways? You're not in your office, are you?”

“Nope. Considering my leave was squashed two hours after it began, I'm savouring what I can before I'm thrust into Hart family drama.”

I winced. “I'm sorry.”

He playfully brushed it off. “All fun is good fun, love. I'll try to enjoy New Hope.”

“I doubt that.”

“Baby,” Roman said, voice warm and low, “I’m about to be the realest fake man you’ve ever had.”

“I can't wait.”

“Well, I gotta go, there's a hot blonde winking right at me. I'm about to get lucky… I’ll text you later, love!” He hurriedly said before hanging up.

Typical Roman

I placed the dress against my body in front of the office mirror and took a selfie, typing across a message to attach to it before sending it to the bride of nightmares.

“Hey, Chlo, just checking—this the exact green you wanted, right? I know how you get about shades.”

I pressed send and breathed out as the three dots danced across the screen.

Suddenly… it disappeared.

A mic icon appeared in its place…

Voicenote incoming…

I hesitated for a whole freaking hour, then hit play.

Nothing good ever happens when Chloe sends voice notes.

“Sav, I think that dress is a little too low-cut. It looks like you’re… seeking attention?

You’re going to look like you’re trying to upstage me, Savannah. Not like that's even possible, but then… I just had to be honest.

That color’s too… dramatic. I didn't know it'd be this prominent when I imagined it. But I'll take that fault.

And honestly, sis, that dress looks too good for you. And what's with that slit? Would your pride survive if your vertigo knocks you around a little bit? Well, you're one tough old cookie, Sav.”

Pause.

“How did you even afford that dress? Never mind. I don't want to know the gory details. Gotta go! Love you, sis!”

My hands trembled. My breathing turned erratic.

How dare that little witch.

Oh, Chloe, this isn't a wedding anymore, this is war.

And may the best groom win.

Chapter 4: Trip To New Hope

Two Weeks Later…

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” Roman stated. “When did you steal that one?”

“I didn't steal, I borrowed. Those are two different things.” I muttered, buckling in, “if I die on this trip, tell everyone I looked cute and smelled amazing.”

“Will do. You sure you got everything?” He asked as he settled into the driver seat.

“Anxiety? Check. Emergency snacks? Check. A dress that my sister says is ‘too good for me’? Triple check.” I counted off my fingers.

“That was a low blow, by the way. I can't believe she said all that over a dress. You okay?”

“I'll survive. She's said much worse to me.”

“And the most important? Did you get it?” Roman started his sleek, black Aston Martin. His sunglasses perched perfectly atop his hair.

I grinned wickedly. “You bet.”

Roman laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “Remind me never to mess with you, Sav.”

“Or buy you a wedding gift.” I added.

“No need to worry about that. I'm never getting married. Ever.” He emphasised.

I rolled my eyes. “Everyone says that. Then boom, suddenly they're happily married with twenty kids and a dozen dogs.”

He scoffed. “Cute picture. But not for me.”

I frowned. I've known Roman for five years and this is the first time he's ever spoken about this.

“Why?”

“Some things just aren't meant for some people. Sav, look at me, do I look like the type of guy that fits into that picture?” He asked with one hand on the steering.

I took a good look at him. From his green eyes to his Adam's apple down to his ivory coloured cashmere sweater and black pants. “Sure.”

He shook his head. “I don't think so. I like my life as it is.”

“If you're anti-marriage, why are you going with me to New Hope?”

He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road. “Who knows? Maybe it's the spirit of adventure. Maybe for experience? Or just because I'd do anything for you.”

I let that sink. “Why don't you wanna get married? I know I do want to settle down some day when I'm older.” I placed a hand on my chest.

“You're turning thirty, Savannah.” He cackled.

“I can still say when I'm older. There's no rule that prevents thirty-year olds from saying it.” I argued. “Besides, you never stated the reason why you swore off marriage.”

“Let's not dig up dead bodies, love.”

I playfully glared at him. “I'm still gonna get that story out of you, one way or another.”

“Till then, love.” Roman smiled.

An hour into the drive, the GPS announced: "Continue on I-95 North for 67 miles."

I looked at him, head tilted. “Okay. It’s time.”

“For?”

I turned dramatically in my seat, pulling out my phone.

“The road trip playlist. It’s a sacred ritual. First song sets the tone.”

Roman arched an eyebrow.

“If you play Taylor Swift, I’m driving us into a river.”

I gasped.

“You take that back.”

“You take that playlist back.”

We wrestled over my phone like children, with Roman not wanting to give it up. At one point, I climbed halfway into his lap trying to pry it back, giggling and shrieking.

“I will end you, Blackwood!” I swore.

“You’re gonna get us pulled over.”

Eventually, I gave up, breathless and flushed.

He handed the phone back with a smirk.

“Fine. Play your heartbreak anthems.”

“Damn right I will.”

I queued up a dramatic song about betrayal and exes. We listened in silence for a beat.

Then I said, softly, “Do you think they’ll believe us?”

Roman didn’t answer right away.

Then he said, “I think if we’re not careful… we might start believing it ourselves.”

We looked at each other…

Then burst into laughter.

“You almost got me.” I giggled.

~~~~~~~~~

We've been driving for two hours. Conversation flowed like it always did with Roman—effortless, familiar, full of sharp banter and long silences that never felt awkward.

“You sure you want to do this?” I asked as we passed the ‘Welcome to New Hope’ sign. “There’s still time to turn around. Fake a car fire. Say you got food poisoning. Or I can say I had a pregnancy scare.”

“I canceled a sexy vacation for this,” he said. “I’m not half-assing it, Sav.”

“Right. Because this is a performance.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave me that unreadable look again… the one that made me feel seen in ways I wasn’t ready for.

“This isn’t just a performance, Sav,” he said finally. “It’s the start of a battle.”

I nodded. “They're not gonna know what hit them.”

The moment we crossed into New Hope, my stomach dropped. The group chat was still buzzing.

I looked out the window to places I used to know.

People I used to know.

The houses grew more familiar, more homey, and more weaponized by nostalgia and memories I thought I'd successfully kept buried.

By the time Roman turned into the gravel driveway of my childhood home, my hands were sweating.

Can I really pull this off for one week?

“Sav? You okay?” He reached over to place his free hand on my thigh.

I smiled. “Of course. I just got sucked into the music.”

We both turned to the house. Me, with a glum expression. Him, with surprise.

“Sav, are you sure we're at the right house?”

I gulped. “Yes.”

The Hart family home was nestled at the end of a winding, tree-lined driveway.

A timeless monument made of stone, with ivy creeping along the edges like whispers of old secrets.

Two tall brick chimneys crowned the sharply gabled roof, hinting at roaring fires that warm the silk-draped drawing rooms. The tall, amber-lit windows that still glow like honey at dusk, spilling golden light across the manicured hedges that flank the front entrance with a soft arch that cradles the wooden double doors, facing the wraparound porch with wrought-iron lanterns and polished oak railings

And finally, to the left stood a blooming cherry tree bush with pink petals against the stone like a blush that won’t fade, no matter how many winters come and go.

“Your house is quite bigger than I imagined.”

“I forgot to mention my dad is a retired federal judge.” I ran my sweaty palms over my black joggers.

“You skipped the part where you're supposed to let me know the Harts live in a fortress.”

Nevertheless, Roman pulled into the gravel driveway like he owned the place.

The welcoming committee was already waiting at the front entrance.

My mom. My older sister, Alyssa. My aunties. My cousin, Lizzie, from Florida. My little niece. Chloe in head-to-toe white.

And worst of all— Dean fucking Archer.

Chapter 5: What The Hell, Savannah!

“Here we go,” I muttered.

Roman killed the engine then turned to me. “You ready?”

“No.”

He reached over. Took my hand. Tight, warm, grounding. “You’re not alone.” Then he slipped something onto my finger. An engagement ring.

A giant engagement ring with a huge blue stone in the middle. I glanced at him and he had his usual cocky smile in place.

“You forgot that crucial part of the story.”

I gaped at the beauty that felt cold against my skin.

“Holy shit. Where'd you get this?”

I frantically searched around for a box of some sorts, but there was none.

“Doesn't matter. What's important is we nail this and get back to Philly as soon as possible. Understood?”

My throat tightened. I nodded once and we stepped out together.

Roman came around to my side and placed his hand on my back, guiding me like a man who’d done it a thousand times. His sunglasses were off and his smirk was on.

He was six foot three of silent chaos and tailored confidence now. They collectively gasped.

Alyssa squealed, “God, he's hot.”

Lizzy screeched, “He looks like a young Brendan Fraser!”

Aunt Janice whispered, “Lord have mercy.”

My mom blinked twice. “He’s… taller than I expected.”

Chloe’s jaw clicked shut. The colour drained from her face entirely. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

Roman stood by my side as I exchanged hugs and kisses with everyone I hadn't seen since last year.

“Hi, everyone,” I said sweetly. “This is Roman Blackwood. My fiancé.”

Roman extended his hand to my mother. “It’s so good to finally meet you, ma’am.”

The ma’am did something to my mom as she looked flustered. “Please call me Flora.” She blushed.

Chloe stepped forward, voice strained. “You didn’t say he was… him.”

Roman tilted his head. “She didn’t say you were still this blonde.”

The silence was loud. Am I missing something?

Dean cleared his throat, with his hands stuck in his pockets and stepped forward. “It's good to see you again, Sav.” He said before pulling me into an unexpected hug.

I broke free and took a few steps back to stand beside Roman. “Likewise.”

His brown eyes looked at Roman and I intensely before he stretched forth a hand towards him, puffing out his chest a little.

“Dean Archer, it's good to finally meet you. In the flesh.” He smirked.

Roman's response wiped the cocky smirk off his face in seconds.

“You're a lot smaller than I imagined.” Roman narrowed his eyes, sizing him up like a tiny specimen on display.

Alyssa burst into laughter before pulling Roman into a hug. “Hi, I'm Alyssa. I'm Savannah's older sister.” She points to little Emily still standing beside mom. “And that's my daughter, Emily.”

Roman smiled— like a real genuine smile. “It's good to finally meet you, Alyssa. You're a lot prettier in person. Sav has told me a lot of good things about you.”

Alyssa blushed.

He waved at a shy Emily. “Hi, Emily!”

Roman hugged and made small talk with my aunties and so far, he was doing great.

Very relaxed and convincing.

Chloe stood by the side with her arms folded and her lips twisted in a frown. What's her problem?

“Come, Roman. My husband's been dying to meet you.” Mom and Aunt Janice basically dragged Roman inside leaving me with Alyssa, Chloe and Dean.

“I'll help you bring in your luggage.” Dean offered.

“No, thanks. I can manage.”

Chloe stepped in. “I'll help you. Alyssa's too lazy to help anyway.”

Alyssa laughed in response.

Chloe stomped to the trunk of the car and instead of pulling out our suitcases like she was supposed to, she grabbed my hand— specifically the one wearing the engagement ring.

She looked at hers before looking at mine with her mouth wide open.

“How the hell do you get a bigger ring compared to mine?” She whined.

“Are you being serious, Chlo?”

“Like hell I am! You shouldn't have a bigger ring than the bride!” She stomped her foot.

Dean stepped in. “Babe, it's not that serious. It's the thought that counts.” He whispered then placed a kiss on her lips. With his eyes on me.

I looked away.

“I don't care! It's a disaster! Sav doesn't even know the first thing about rings and yet she got the biggest one. Do something, Dean!”

Her face was as red as beet and she looked like she'd cry any moment from now.

“Oh, boy. I thought we were past this point.” Alyssa whispered.

“Alright. If you want a bigger ring, then that's what you'll get. Give me a moment to speak with my jeweler and we'll work around something new.” Dean tried to appease her.

Chloe bobbed her head up and down like a child. Her fiancé placed his phone on his ear and stepped away, no doubt to call the jeweler.

“You’re not sixteen anymore, Chlo. We shouldn't be fighting over ring sizes.”

Her nostrils flared. “Still as conceited as always, Sav?”

“Chloe, enough.” Alyssa chided her. “Help her get the bags out of the trunk.”

“Don't worry, I've got it.” Roman surfaced out of nowhere.

I smiled and stepped back as he easily pulled the heavy bags out of the trunk.

As Roman grabbed our bags from the trunk, Chloe hissed in my ear. “You’re seriously bringing him to my wedding?”

I smiled, a little too bright.

“You brought Dean.”

“He's my husband, duh.”

“That makes two of us then.”

I followed Roman inside, hand in hand. Nothing much had changed around here. Well, except the fact that literally a hundred fashion magazines were scattered around the living room. All about wedding dresses.

“Where's Dad?” I asked mom.

“He's in a zoom meeting right now but I'll let you know when it's over.”

“Okay, mom.”

Chloe and her husband stepped into the room looking like the crime version of Ken and Barbie.

A smile appeared on my face instantly.

“Chloe, I got you a little pre-wedding present… Initially, I was confused on what to get you since you basically have everything.” I grinned wickedly. “Then I thought of something perfect.”

Roman chuckled. Chloe's brows were drawn together.

“What's that?” She asked, unsure.

“Hold on. Let me fetch it right away.”

In the middle of the living room, in the presence of my extended bloodline, I unzipped my suitcase and retrieved the wedding present of the century, wrapped in an elegant black box.

I extended my hand and Chloe took the box, her earlier uncertainty dissipating.

“Uh thanks… I didn't think of getting you anything.” She said absentmindedly, lowering herself to the height of the cherry wood table.

Roman glanced at me, already knowing what was inside.

I tried to hold in my laughter as she eagerly tore the box open. I started a mental countdown till chaos erupted.

Three…

Two…

One…

“What the hell, Savannah!”