My smile falters. He looks at me, eyes scanning mine like the answer might be buried somewhere behind them.

But he wont find any answers because honestly, I don’t know the answer to that either. Not really.

I’ve spent four years idealizing Sarah, building her up into someone perfect. My end-game.

Then this weekend happened.

Caleb happened.

I’m not ready to name it, not yet, but the thought of going back to life without him stings more than I want to admit. I just got him back and I’m supposed to what? Forget this all happened? Never.

But, what if this isn’t as real to him as it is to me? I mean…it’s Caleb Brown. The flirtatious, womanizing, life of the party who’s scared of settling down unless it’s apparently with Sarah Lockwood. Am I supposed to believe that he’s just going to do a one-eighty and choose…me? I trust him…but do I trust…in this? I’m not sure.

“I think we should go see her,” I say, almost a whisper. “For…clarity…or answers, or whatever.”

Something shifts in his expression—disappointment? Resignation? But he nods and manages a small smile.

“Yeah... let’s go see my girl,” he says with a wink.

I roll my eyes. “Shut up,” I mutter, nudging him.

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair before gently resting it on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth... this has been the best weekend I’ve had in a long long time.”

I nod, eyes drifting to his lips. It feels like one of those moments where you lean in, consequences be damned.

But I don’t. Not when everything inside me is still tangled. It would just make it even more complicated…more than it already is.

Instead, I grab my phone from the nightstand and pull up Sarah’s Instagram.

“She posted a story,” I say.

Caleb leans in.

There she is, glamorous as always. A floor-length baby blue dress hugs her small frame, blonde hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. She stands beneath a golden archway, smiling like she owns the damn world, holding onto a champagne glass.

“Cheers to Heather and Rachel!” Caleb reads aloud.

“She tagged the venue.”

“That’s not far from here,” he says, already pulling up the address on Google Maps.

We look at each other.

“I guess we’re crashing a wedding,” Caleb says with a shrug.

25

caleb

“I’m all of a sudden feeling kind of creepy for doing this,” Nathaniel calls through the bathroom door, laughing.

We had ducked into a nearby men’s clothing store and managed to snag everything we needed to fake formalwear: dress pants, crisp white shirts, and black ties. Good enough for wedding crashers. Weddings go all night so there’s a pretty good chance that tonight is the night. We’ll be seeing Sarah in a couple of hours.

I cinch my tie and adjust the collar in the mirror in the bedroom area. “Sarah’s going to be flattered, if anything. You know how she eats this kind of attention up.”