Chapter 2Take My Bride She Is Yours

It was two in the morning before I managed to hail a cab in the rain.

As soon as I sat down, my phone buzzed. A text from Caleb:

"Eli, thanks for the green light, bro. I’m going to make things right with her. She told me she never stopped loving me—she was just hurt that I left when she had nothing. Now that she has her family’s money, the air is totally cleared between us."

I rested my head against the cool leather headrest and typed back a single word: "Congratulations."

Whatever mess they made of each other from here on out was no longer my concern.

Back at the apartment, I collapsed onto the sofa and opened my photo archive. The shared album I had kept with Caleb spanned nearly a decade of memories. Before he moved abroad, he had cried on my couch, lamenting the girl he left behind.

"She has the face, she has the body, but she's completely broke, Eli," he had whined. "She practically begged me on her knees this morning not to board that plane. I know she loves me, but love doesn't pay rent in Mayfair."

Back then, he hadn't known that the broke girl would claim a multi-million-dollar inheritance just to spite him.

While Caleb was overseas, we facetimed constantly, sharing the mundane details of our lives. I posted those snippets on my public blog. That was how Elena found me.

Her profile had lingered on every single post. She liked every video that featured Caleb’s voice in the background. When she slid into my direct messages, charming and attentive, I genuinely believed she had fallen for me. We met two months later, and within a year, we were living together.

My screen lit up again. A text from Elena:

"Working late at the office tonight. Don’t wait up for me."

It was the first time in three years she hadn't come home.

The luminous text drifted lazily across the ceiling:

[The endgame couple is finally back in bed together.]

[I swear, if the side character tries to guilt-trip her into coming home, he’s the worst.]

[Please don't interrupt their reunion, we’ve waited so long for this chapter.]

I locked my phone, tossed it onto the coffee table, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Around noon, Caleb's call woke me.

"Hey, Eli! Let me buy you two lunch today. Consider it an early wedding gift. Come on, don't leave me hanging."

I paused for two seconds, then agreed.

They arrived at the bistro before me. When I stepped into the private dining room, the entrees were already served. Caleb’s head was resting comfortably on Elena’s shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss.

"If Eli finds out about us," Caleb murmured softly, "do you think he'll be upset?"

Elena turned her face away, her expression unreadable. "Drop it. He can never know."

Her tone carried the exact same unshakeable conviction as the day she had proposed to me.

Six months ago, she had knelt on one knee by the ocean, sliding a platinum band onto my finger. "Once you wear this, you can never take it off," she had whispered. "You belong to me for the rest of your life."

Six months was all it took for forever to rot.

I took a quiet breath and walked over to the table.

Caleb sat up immediately, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Eli. My blood sugar dropped a little, so I borrowed your girl's shoulder. Don't read into it, okay?" He nudged Elena playfully. "Why don't you go sit next to Eli?"

Before she could stand, I raised a hand. "Stay where you are. I have my coat on that side anyway."

Caleb shrugged, raising his glass of iced tea. "Eli, seriously, congrats on the wedding." He drank it down, then hesitated, glancing sideways at Elena. "Actually, I wanted to ask a favor today. My mom found out I was back in the States and is badgering me to go on blind dates. I panicked and lied, told her I already had a serious girlfriend."

He paused, biting his lip. "I don't know anyone in town anymore. I was hoping Elena could play my girlfriend for a couple of days to get my mom off my back. Would that be cool? Elena already said yes."

The words floated up again:

[Poor baby Caleb, he has to make up an excuse just to bring the love of his life to meet his parents.]

[The fiancé is definitely going to throw a fit. Classic petty villain behavior.]

I picked up a piece of seared salmon, chewed slowly, and ignored the dark shadow crossing Elena’s face.

"Sure," I said instantly. "Just make sure you guys look convincing."