“Yes, Mother!” I stick my tongue out at Wyatt as he grabs his shower bag and heads out the door. With him gone, I collapse back onto the bed, feeling the softness of the pillow underneath my head. I don’t even care that it’s cold in our room; I can sleep like this easy.

Even though I’d been counting on it, it was still a surprise when Wyatt told me that both of his moms had approved the trip. Something about them thinking that their son had never gotten a proper spring break—I hadn’t really paid attention.

There were rules, of course. Wyatt had to call them every night, turn on the location settings on his phone, and not go anywhere without me there to babysit him.

Once the trip had been approved, I’d broken down every step of the week for Wyatt. The brunches, lunches, dinners, rehearsals, parties, reunions, the actual wedding itself, the reception.

Mother is bound and determined to make this a memorable affair. You’d almost think it was her wedding and not her firstborn’s.

I shouldn’t fall back asleep, even though we’ll just be going through PreCheck, so I’m not sure why Wyatt is so pressed to get to the airport three hours early. I roll over and grab my phone, seeing the text messages from last night that I ignored.

A new group chat has been invented, sans Josh.

SAMUEL: YOU’RE DATING WYATT FOWLER???????? YOU HATE HIM!!!!!!!

HOON: What is going on?

JULIEN: what?

MARK: im gone one day and I miss so much.

SAMUEL: Josh just told me Neil’s going to the LA wedding with Wyatt?

SAMUEL: Apparently, they hooked up the other night???

SAMUEL: Confirm or deny Neil

HOON: Dude what?

HOON: He’s such a goody-goody

MARK: yeah what a dork, how’d that even happen???

JULIEN: are you sure Josh isn’t just making it up? or maybe he heard neil wrong

SAMUEL: No! He told me!

The conversation kept going on for another hour, all without me sending a single response. God, this was going to be a pain in the ass to explain. I could just ignore them, wait the week out, then pretend that nothing happened, act like I’m too heartbroken to talk about it.

I finally pick myself up out of bed. Wyatt’s bag is already packed neatly on his bed, all the clothing we picked out for him tucked away. We’ll have to go somewhere to get him fitted for a suit, probably while I’m getting my own tailored. He really had the audacity to say he could just wear his school uniform to the wedding!

I couldn’t tell if he was joking—but still, the idea was enough to scare me.

Wyatt comes back minutes later, just as I’m slipping on my Vans. “I ordered a Lyft,” I tell him. “It’ll be here soon.”