Chapter 2

The morning sun should have brought peace. Instead, it brought chaos.

The house looked like a bridal hurricane had touched down and never left. Bridesmaids fluttered from room to room, shrieking about missing lip liners and mismatched heels. Someone had spilled orange juice on a veil. Someone else was sobbing over false eyelashes. The scent of hairspray clung to the air like a desperate ex.

In the middle of it all, Julian sat on the couch like a funeral mourner, arms crossed, still in his pajamas and scowling at a freshly steamed tuxedo hanging nearby like it had personally offended him.

His mother stormed in, halfway dressed in her gown, curlers bouncing in her hair, mascara wand in one hand, and a look of fury in the other.

“Julian,” she snapped, “put. On. The tuxedo.”

He recoiled like she’d asked him to lick a public toilet. “Absolutely not. That thing is cursed. It smells like betrayal.”

“It smells like fabric softener, and your future stepfather is footing the bill, so put it on before I sew you into it.”

Julian leapt to his feet. “Mom! You’re selling me out to the enemy. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’m not selling you. I’m marrying a man I love.”

“To the enemy, Mother!” He gestured wildly like an unhinged Shakespearean actor. “A man who spawned Alexander! Have you no sense of self-preservation?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Julian, I swear on my bouquet, if you don’t put that tux on in the next five minutes, I will march you down the aisle in those duck-printed pajamas and tell everyone it was your fashion choice.”

Julian gasped, scandalized. “You wouldn’t.”

She smiled sweetly. “Try me.”

A bridesmaid passed behind them yelling, “Does anyone know where the emergency eyelash glue is?!”

Julian slumped back onto the couch, defeated. “This is emotional warfare.”

“And you’re losing,” she said, blowing him a kiss before striding out. “Tuxedo. Now.”

Julian sat there for a moment, glowering at the tuxedo as if he could set it on fire with sheer force of will. Eventually, realizing he had no choice, he grabbed it off the hanger and stomped upstairs. If he was going to be paraded around like a show pony at this wedding, he might as well be dramatic about it.

Moments later, he emerged, stiff as a board, shoulders hunched like the tuxedo was actively choking the life out of him. The tie felt like a noose. The polished shoes felt like shackles. He was being forcefully civilized.

The wedding chaos still raged downstairs, but Julian barely noticed because standing near his bedroom door, looking unfairly composed in a crisp suit, was him. The enemy. Alexander.

Julian stopped dead in his tracks. Alexander turned at the same time, their eyes locking like two cowboys about to duel.

Alexander smirked, a lazy, confident smirk that made Julian want to throw a decorative vase at him. “Well, well, well. Look who finally looks like a respectable member of society.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

Alexander placed a hand over his chest. “That hurts, Julian. Really. And here I thought we were bonding.”

Julian scoffed. “Over what? Mutual suffering? Your father ruining my life?”

Alexander tilted his head in mock consideration. “That, and the fact that we’re both trapped in this ridiculous circus of a wedding.”

Julian refused to acknowledge the slight twinge of agreement in his chest. Instead, he crossed his arms. “Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten your sins.”

“My sins?” Alexander looked positively delighted. “Do elaborate.”

Julian took a deep breath, as if preparing for a great monologue. “You are an insufferable, overly-groomed mannequin with a laugh that haunts my nightmares and a chewing technique so aggressive, I’m convinced you could bite through steel!”

Alexander blinked once. Then, to Julian’s utter horror, he started laughing. Not just any laugh, a full-bodied, genuinely amused, downright attractive laugh.

Julian’s eye twitched. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know,” Alexander said, grinning. “It’s just—I wasn’t expecting you to be so… passionate about me.”

Julian scowled. “I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t think you actually dislike me as much as you pretend to,” Alexander mused, stroking his chin like he was some wise philosopher unraveling the universe’s greatest mysteries. “You talk about me quite a lot.”

Julian shot to his feet. “I—excuse me?! That is slander! I would never—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alexander said, inspecting his cufflinks with an irritating air of nonchalance. “From what I hear, you bring me up in nearly every conversation. Some might call that… fixation.”

Julian gasped, utterly scandalized. “Take that back!”

“Just an observation.”

Julian whirled toward the exit, pointing an accusing finger as he stormed off. “This is not over.”

Alexander, still far too amused, called after him, “Looking forward to the next chat, darling.”

Julian nearly tripped over a stray bouquet.

This wedding was a nightmare.

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