Chapter 2

Layla's POV

Three days.

Three days since Miami.

Austin hadn't called. Not once. Not a single text.

Classic Austin—the silent treatment. Over the past five years, whenever I showed even a hint of being unhappy, he'd do this. Pull away, go cold, wait until I couldn't stand it anymore and apologized first.

Not this time.

I sat in my office reviewing design drafts, head still throbbing.

Wedding planning had been killing me. Last night I'd finally crashed—fever, twelve hours knocked out cold. Woke up with my throat raw as hell. Didn't call anyone.

I was used to dealing with things alone.

At three, my office door opened. David, Austin's assistant, walked in holding this massive black velvet box.

"Ms. Scott." David wouldn't meet my eyes. Clearly uncomfortable. "Mr. Roberts wanted me to bring these over... final proofs for the invitations."

"Just set it down." I didn't look up.

David put the box on my desk but didn't leave. "He, uh... he wants you to check the layout inside. If it's good, they're going to print tonight."

I finally stopped writing.

David stood there looking like he was dying to say something but couldn't.

I walked over and opened the velvet box.

Hundreds of thick invitations with gold embossing. The minimalist design I'd picked. I grabbed one and flipped it open.

Skimmed the bride and groom names, date, venue.

Then I saw it. Bottom of the page, small print:

Wedding Creative Director: Serena Hayes

Everything stopped.

I couldn't breathe.

"What is this?" My voice was barely there.

David swallowed. Sweat on his forehead now. "Look, Mr. Roberts said... Ms. Hayes has been getting really into wedding planning. He thinks it helps with her depression, so he... he gave her a title on the planning committee."

Beat.

"It's just honorary though, Ms. Scott. Seriously, just a title."

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

His ex's name on MY wedding invitations. This wasn't honorary. This was Serena marking her territory. Telling everyone: Layla's wedding? Yeah, I'm part of that too.

My phone buzzed. Instagram.

Serena's new post.

White silk pajamas, sprawled on a gray couch I knew way too well—Austin's couch. Fancy breakfast spread on the table, white roses.

Caption: "Feeling grateful for the little things in life. Sometimes the best mornings are the quiet ones. �� #blessed #newbeginnings"

Comments going crazy:

"Wait whose apartment is that??"

"Serena you look amazing!"

"New man??"

I zoomed in.

There, in the corner—the silver frame I'd given Austin for his birthday. Used to have our photo in it.

Empty now.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"The penthouse. Ms. Hayes is there too. They're, uh... working on flowers."

Half an hour later, I walked into Austin's penthouse.

Jazz playing. Mountains of white flowers by the windows. Serena in an oversized white button-down—Austin's, obviously—barefoot, trimming stems.

Austin on the couch with his coffee, watching her with this soft look on his face.

Door opened. They both turned.

"Layla?" Austin frowned, got up, stepped in front of Serena. "What're you doing here? I told David you just needed to look at the invitations."

Serena ducked behind him, still holding scissors.

Eyes going red. Voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, Layla... I didn't mean to wear Austin's shirt, I just—I went running this morning and got sweaty, and he said I should change, and—please don't be mad at him..."

Running this morning?

She STAYED here last night?

I stood in the doorway. Just stood there, staring.

I was done with this.

"Saw the invitations." I walked to the coffee table, dropped them on the glass. "Who said you could put her name on them?"

"Layla, watch it." Austin's face hardened. "Serena's barely slept helping us with flowers. She just wants to be involved, feel some happiness, you know? Why do you always have to make everything so hostile?"

"Involved in MY wedding?" I looked at him. "What's next? She replaces me at the altar?"

"You're being RIDICULOUS!" Austin's voice shot up. "I'm done with this paranoid crap! Serena's SICK! What do you want, her dead? Would that make you happy?"

"If you care about her so much, let's just end this."

Austin stared for a second, then laughed. Cold. "Oh come on, Layla. Grow up. Wedding's in three days. You really think you can find another groom by then?"

"Sure I can," I said. Flat. "You're not the only guy on the planet."

"You—"

"Austin, stop, please..." Serena grabbed her chest, face going white. Gasping. Tears everywhere. "This is my fault... I shouldn't be here... I'll go right now..."

"You're NOT going anywhere!" Austin caught her as she wobbled, then turned on me, eyes vicious.

"Apologize to her. Now."

I looked at them. Him holding her. Her crying into his chest.

Weirdly, I felt calm. Crystal clear, actually.

Right then, it hit me. I knew exactly what I had to do.

"Okay." I tilted my head, looked straight at Austin. "Tomorrow, three p.m. Vera Wang. Final fitting. Bring her."