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This is our fourth and final wedding this summer—and my gut tells me it’s going to be quite the bash.

The ceremony space is ridiculous in the way only obscenely wealthy people can pull off—understated yet clearly expensive. White flowers cascade from an arch framing the ocean backdrop, and the gentle breeze carries the scent of salt and old money through the air. Michael and Lillian spared no expense, and I’m looking forward to seeing what the rest of the evening brings.

"Hey, you," Tess whispers, appearing at my side in a deep blue dress that hugs her curves just enough to be distracting without being inappropriate for a wedding. Her fingers brush mine as she reaches to straighten my already straight tie, and I feel a jolt from her touch. I catch myself staring at the curve of her lips.

I’m just about to kiss her when Stuart slaps me on the back as he passes, flashing those ridiculous dimples of his. "Betting poolon who cries first—Lillian's mom or Michael? I've got fifty on the mom."

"You're terrible," Tess says, but she's laughing.

Jane and Trey are already seated near the front. Jane keeps turning around every few seconds to scan the crowd. When she spots us, she gives us a big wave.

"Ready for round four?" I ask Tess as we find our seats.

"It’s got to be better than the last wedding, right?" she laughs, smoothing her dress as she sits.

"Absolutely. No exes to deal with today."

The music begins, signaling the start of the ceremony. Michael takes his place under the arch, somehow looking both nervous and elated. I wonder what he’s thinking.

The bridesmaids float down the aisle one by one, followed by Lillian in a very poofy gown. She's beaming as her father leads her toward Michael, and I'm struck by how genuine her happiness seems. I've attended dozens of society weddings where the smiles felt forced, the vows rehearsed not just for the ceremony but for the merger of families and fortunes they represented.

This feels different.

As they exchange vows, I feel a strange tightness in my chest. My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, telling myself it's the sea breeze. But when Michael's voice cracks as he promises to stand by Lillian through whatever life brings them, I feel a shift inside me.

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. What the hell? I don't get emotional at weddings. That's not my style. I'm the guy who makes jokes later on about the sappy parts, who heads straight to the open bar after the ceremony and whoused tobring wildly inappropriate dates.

I glance at Tess and find her watching me, a curious expression on her face. I look away quickly, focusing on the horizon where the sun is beginning its descent into the Pacific.

"You okay?" she whispers, her breath warm against my ear.

"Fine," I mutter, but my voice sounds strange.

By the time they're pronounced husband and wife, I've managed to get myself under control, but something lingers—an echo of that unexpected emotion. As everyone applauds and the newly married couple makes their way back down the aisle, Tess slips her hand into mine and squeezes gently.

"You had something in your eye earlier?" she asks, her tone teasing but gentle.

"Salt air," I say, but we both know it's bullshit.

Tess heads to the ladies’ room and I watch her walk away, wishing this part of our day was over and we were already tucked up in the hotel room together.

The guests gather for post-ceremony cocktails on the terrace overlooking the ocean. Stuart hands me a scotch without asking, and I take a long sip.

"Thanks," I say, raising my glass toward Stuart. "So, flying solo tonight? What happened to—what was her name? The investment banker?"

Stuart shrugs, taking a more measured sip of his own drink. "Melissa? That was weeks ago, old man. Keep up."

"My mistake. Hard to keep track of your revolving door of dates." I scan the crowd, noticing several women already eyeing Stuart with interest. "Though I'm sure you could have your pick of the single ladies here tonight."

"Not everyone can find their perfect wedding plus-one like you did with Tess," Stuart says, his dimples deepening as he smiles. "Some of us are still searching for that kind of chemistry."

"We're just..." I start, but stop myself. Just what? The line between our fake relationship and whatever this is has blurred beyond recognition.

Stuart watches me fumble, his eyebrows rising slightly. "Just...?"

I'm saved by Tess's return from the ladies' room. She slides in beside me, gently holding onto my arm.

"What are you boys gossiping about?" she asks, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing server.