Chapter 1

Three months ago, I broke up with Julian, my boyfriend of eight years.

But Julian refused to accept it. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

For three months, he carried on with the new intern at his office while he waited for me to come back and apologize.

Meanwhile, I'd already accepted someone else's proposal. I'd even booked the wedding venue.

When we ran into each other at a college reunion and everyone asked when the wedding was, he gave his usual excuse: "We haven't decided yet."

At almost the exact same moment, I said, "The last Saturday in September."

Furious, he dragged me into a corner. "Are you trying to force me to propose? I told you to wait!"

I pulled my hand free. "You wait all you want. I'm getting married."

He thought I was bluffing to back him into a corner.

He didn't realize the breakup was real.

He didn't know I'd found out about the young intern he'd been hiding long ago.

And he had no idea that the man I was marrying wasn't him.

*  *  *

Over the holiday, I went back to Ashford. Some of our old college friends had booked out the rooftop bar of an upscale hotel downtown.

A lot of people had gotten married in the years since graduation. Several had brought their whole families. Someone had even brought a stroller, and it was as loud as our old dorm.

Ethan had organized the whole thing.

He made the rounds with a beer in his hand and finally stopped in front of Julian and me.

"So when are you two getting married? I've been waiting eight years. You've got to let me come to at least one wedding."

"We haven't talked about it," Julian said.

"The last Saturday in September," I said at almost the same time.

Everyone around us went quiet.

Julian turned to look at me with his brows drawn together, as if to say: what are you doing?

We'd been together for eight years, and he had never once seriously talked to me about marriage.

A couple of years ago, I'd brought it up. He said he'd just been promoted and didn't want any distractions, and we'd talk about it when things settled down.

I never brought it up again, and he was happy to act like he'd forgotten.

Ethan looked at me, then at him, and laughed. "You two didn't get your stories straight? Come on, Julian. Step up."

I didn't look at Julian. I spoke straight to Ethan and everyone around us. "The last Saturday in September, I'm getting married. You're all invited."

Ethan paused, his eyes darting between Julian and me a couple of times. Then he raised his glass, said congratulations, and started ribbing Julian. "You really kept that one quiet. The wedding's set and you didn't say a word?"

"Seriously, man, not cool," a few of the guys joined in.

Julian forced a smile and played along.

I sat on my bar stool without moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me. Several times he started to say something, then swallowed it.

After a few rounds, the conversation drifted back to college.

"Remember the dance at the start of freshman year? Maya walked in wearing that red dress, and the guys next to me couldn't take their eyes off her."

"Julian was the worst. He announced right then and there that he was going after her. Said he was going to marry her, no matter what."

"When he was chasing Maya, the whole frat pitched in."

"Well, it's been long enough. They're finally settling down."

His old roommates got more and more excited, but Julian was somewhere else entirely. He turned his glass around in his hand for a long time without taking a single sip.

When people started heading to the restroom, he grabbed me, pulled me out of the bar, and pinned me against the wall at the end of the hallway.

"Didn't we say we'd hold off on getting married? What was that, pulling a stunt like that in front of everyone?"

His grip on my wrist was hard.

"If you want to hold off, that's up to you," I said. "I'm done waiting."

He gave a cold laugh. "If I don't want to get married, nothing you try is going to work."

I pried his fingers off one by one. "Let go."

"Fine. Then go back in there and tell them the September wedding was a joke."

"You've got it wrong." I rubbed my wrist. "My wedding has nothing to do with you."

He froze.

I pulled my hand away.

"Playing hard to get? Don't come crying to me when you can't back out of it. I'm not playing along."

"Then don't worry about it."

I turned to go.

"What is that supposed to mean? Spit it out. If you want to break up, just say so!"

He grabbed my arm from behind, anger written all over his face.

I looked back at him.

"Didn't we break up a long time ago?"