Harper POV
"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God."
The words tumble out in a whisper as I stare at my reflection. My face is ghost-pale, lipstick smeared from where I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from screaming. The fairy lights I helped Mona string around the mirror this afternoon now seem to mock me, twinkling like stars in some twisted fairy tale.
My chest feels tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around my ribs. Each breath comes in sharp, shallow gasps. The air tastes metallic, like I've been running for miles.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening.
But it is. The stranger from Vegas, is Nico. Mona's Nico. The man I've been thinking about every single day for three weeks is the same man my best friend is going to marry.
"Harper?" Mona's voice filters through the door, followed by a gentle knock. "Are you okay in there?"
I splash cold water on my face, watching pink lipstick swirl down the drain. "I'm fine! Just... checking my makeup."
"You've been in there for ten minutes."
Ten minutes? It feels like ten seconds. Or ten hours. Time has become elastic, meaningless.
I straighten my shoulders, practicing a smile in the mirror. It looks more like a grimace. "Coming out now!"
When I open the door, Mona's concerned face fills my vision. She's glowing—literally glowing—with happiness. Her dark hair is swept into an elegant updo, and she's wearing the emerald earrings I gave her for her birthday last year.
"Harper, you look terrible. Are you getting sick?"
Before I can protest, she presses the back of her hand against my forehead like she's checking for fever. The maternal gesture makes my chest tighten even more.
"Just work stress." I force brightness into my voice, painting on the smile I've perfected after years of dealing with bridezillas and demanding clients. "You know how crazy things get with the Morrison wedding next week."
Mona's brow furrows. "You've been working too hard. Maybe you should—"
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "No, I'm fine. This is your night. I'm not missing a second of it."
She studies my face for another moment, then breaks into that radiant smile that's been lighting up rooms since college. "Okay, but promise me you'll take a vacation after Morrison. You've been carrying everyone else's stress for months."
If only you knew.
"I promise. Now come on, your guests are wondering where you disappeared to."
We emerge from the hallway together, and my eyes immediately find him. Nico stands near the kitchen island, a glass of wine in his hand, but he's not drinking. He's staring at the spot where I dropped my champagne flute, where tiny shards still glitter against the hardwood despite someone's attempt to sweep them up.
When he looks up, our eyes lock across the room. The impact hits me like a physical blow. Those same dark eyes that looked into mine in Vegas, that saw straight through every wall I'd built around my heart. The same eyes that are now filled with the same horror and panic I feel coursing through my veins.
But underneath the horror, there's something else. Something that makes my pulse quicken and my skin flush despite everything. The same magnetic pull that drew me to him in that hotel bar, the same electricity that crackled between us in the elevator, in my suite, in the morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.
He takes a half-step toward me, and I see his lips part slightly, as if he's about to speak. To say my name, maybe. Or to mouth some kind of apology.
I whip my head away, focusing on Mona as she threads her arm through mine.
"There you are!" David from Mona's office approaches with his boyfriend in tow. "We were just telling Nico about the time you planned that flash mob proposal in Grand Central."
"That wasn't me," I manage, grateful for the distraction. "That was my colleague Sarah. Though I did help coordinate the..."
"Harper's being modest," Mona interrupts, beaming at me. "She's the best event planner in LA. She could organize a royal wedding with two days' notice."
Heat creeps up my neck. "Mona, stop."
"It's true! Remember when you pulled together that corporate retreat in Napa after their original planner got food poisoning? Forty-eight hours, and you made it look like we'd been planning for months."
I can feel Nico's gaze on me, but I refuse to look in his direction. Instead, I focus on David's boyfriend, who's asking about vendor recommendations for their own upcoming wedding.
"The key is having backup vendors you trust," I explain, slipping into professional mode. "And always, always have a Plan B. And a Plan C. And sometimes a Plan D."
"See?" Mona squeezes my arm. "This is why I made her my maid of honor. She's going to make sure everything goes perfectly."
The words hit me like a slap. Maid of honor. I'm supposed to plan her bachelorette party, help her choose flowers, stand beside her as she marries the man who—
"Excuse me." I extract myself from Mona's grip. "I should check on the catering setup."
Before anyone can respond, I flee toward the kitchen. But even there, I can't escape. The space is too small, too open to the living room where Nico stands talking to Mona's cousin about wine.
I busy myself rearranging the appetizer platters, straightening napkins that don't need straightening, refilling glasses that are already full. Anything to keep my hands busy, to give my eyes somewhere else to look.
"The spinach puffs are a hit," says Janet from Mona's yoga class, appearing at my elbow with an empty plate. "Did you make them?"
"Catered," I reply, wiping down a counter that's already spotless. "From that place on Melrose that Mona loves."
"You're such a good friend. Mona's so lucky to have you."
The knife twists deeper. "She's lucky to have found Nico."
"He seems wonderful. So attentive to her, and you can tell he absolutely adores her." Janet glances toward the living room where Nico is now standing with his arm around Mona's waist. "It's like watching a fairy tale come to life."
I follow her gaze and immediately regret it. Mona is laughing at something Nico said, her head tilted back, completely at ease in his arms. He's smiling down at her, but even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Fairy tale," I echo, the words tasting like ash.
"Mona told me she kept him secret for months because she wanted to be sure. Smart woman. But now that she's ready to share him with the world..." Janet sighs dreamily. "You can see why she wanted to wait. He's gorgeous."
"Yes," I whisper. "He is."
The next hour and a half pass in a blur of forced smiles and careful choreography. I station myself at the opposite end of the room from wherever Nico happens to be standing. When he moves toward the kitchen, I drift to the balcony. When he steps outside for air, I retreat to the dining area.
But I can't escape the sound of his voice, the way it makes my pulse quicken every time he laughs. Can't ignore the way my skin prickles with awareness whenever he's nearby, like my body is betraying me with its recognition.
"Harper!" Mona appears at my side as I'm folding napkins for the third time. "You're making me nervous with all this cleaning. This is a party, not a work event."
"Sorry, I just..."
"Come sit with me." She links her arm through mine and steers me toward the couch. "I want to hear about Vegas. You said you had a good time, but you've been so vague about details."
My blood turns to ice. "There's nothing to tell, really. Just... room service and spa treatments."
"That's it?" Mona settles beside me on the couch, tucking her legs under her. "No adventures? No interesting people?"
"I met some nice people at the pool," I lie, the words sticking in my throat. "Nothing worth reporting."
"Hmm." Mona's eyes narrow playfully. "You know, ever since you got back, you've seemed... different. More confident, maybe? Like you figured something out about yourself."
I did figure something out. That I could fall in love with a stranger in a single night. That I could feel more alive in eight hours than I had in three years with Marcus. That I could be brave enough to take what I wanted instead of waiting for permission.
"Maybe I did," I say carefully.
"Good. I was worried about you after Marcus." Mona reaches over and squeezes my hand. "But you seem like yourself again. Happy."
I was happy. For three weeks, I carried that night in Vegas like a secret treasure, something beautiful and mine alone. It made everything else bearable—the loneliness, the uncertainty, the slow work of rebuilding my life. Even when I wasn't thinking about it directly, it was there, a warm glow in my chest that reminded me I was capable of more than I'd ever imagined.
Now that warmth feels like poison in my veins.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Mona's father calls from the center of the room, tapping his wine glass with a fork. "If I could have everyone's attention, please."
The room quiets, and I watch as Nico moves to stand beside Mona. She rises from the couch, and I follow, positioning myself slightly behind her as her father begins to speak.
"Twenty-eight years ago, my wife and I were blessed with a daughter who brought nothing but joy into our lives. Tonight, we're celebrating the fact that she's found someone who makes her even happier than we ever could."
Mona's eyes fill with tears, and she reaches for Nico's hand. He takes it, but his gaze finds mine over her head. The look that passes between us lasts only a split second, but it's enough to make my knees weak.
"To Mona and Nico," her father continues, raising his glass. "May your love story be everything you've dreamed and more."
"To Mona and Nico!" the room echoes.
I raise my glass with everyone else, but the words won't come. Instead, I watch as Nico kisses Mona's cheek, as she melts into his embrace, as their guests surround them with congratulations and well-wishes.
And I think about fairy tales, and how they never mention what happens to the people who get crushed under the wheels of happily ever after.