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"Stuart's disastrous love life," I say, flexing my bicep underneath her hand.

"Not disastrous," Stuart protests. "Deliberately uncomplicated."

Tess laughs. "Well, the night's young. That bridesmaid with that cute butterfly tattoo keeps looking your way."

Stuart glances over his shoulder. "The blonde?"

"That's the one."

"Excuse me," Stuart says, straightening his tie. "Duty calls."

I'm watching Stuart weave through the crowd toward the blonde bridesmaid when Jane and Trey approach, cocktails in hand.

"That was magical," Jane says, dabbing at the corner of her eye. "When Lillian's grandfather stood up to give that blessing—I completely lost it."

"It was beautiful," Tess agrees. "And that view! I don't think I've ever seen a more perfect sunset."

Trey nods, taking a sip of his scotch. "Michael's a lucky man. Though I hear his new father-in-law made him sign one hell of a prenup."

"You would know all about that," I say, clinking my glass against his. "Didn't your firm handle something similar for the Talbots last year?"

"Can't comment on specific clients," Trey says with a grin, "but let's just say there's been a run on ironclad marriage contracts among the Fortune 500 lately. Speaking of business, how's Emerald City?"

As Trey and I dive into a discussion about the latest news in the coffee world, I notice Jane subtly touching Tess's elbow, guiding her a few steps away. Their heads tilt together, voices dropping to a whisper. Jane's eyes widen at something Tess says, and she glances quickly in my direction before turning back to Tess.

I wonder what they’re talking about. Knowing Jane, she’s grilling Tess about what’s happening with us. I know they talk pretty regularly so I’m pretty sure Jane already knows that our “fake” relationship is no longer fake.

I can't help but smile as I watch Tess and Jane together. It hits me suddenly, like an unexpected wave—this feeling of rightness. The way Tess fits so seamlessly into my world. Of course, she and Jane have been best friends for forever, but she also fits in perfectly with the rest of my crowd.

It's never been like this before. Past dates to these events were always just that—dates. Accessories who smiled at the right moments but never quite belonged. They'd hang on my arm, laugh too loudly at my friends’ jokes, and inevitably say or do something that would be out of place.

But Tess? She's different. And she fits. She remembers details about my friends' lives that even I sometimes forget. Just last week, she asked Stratton about his mom's surgery before I'd even remembered to.

"Hey, dude," Trey says, waving his hand in front of my face. "You still here?"

"Sorry," I say, dragging my attention back to him. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you're coming to the charity golf tournament next month, but you were too busy staring at your girlfriend." He smirks, taking another sip of his scotch.

"I wasn't staring," I protest weakly. “And she’s not my girlfriend. Not exactly…”

Jane and Tess rejoin our conversation and I put my arm around Tess, feeling so thankful she’s here with me.

The reception is now in full swing inside a glass-walled pavilion that makes it seem like we're floating above the ocean. String lights crisscross the ceiling like stars, and the band plays something soft and jazzy.

I'm on my second scotch, watching Tess navigate the buffet with unusual interest, her face lighting up when she spots something in one of the bowls. Two glasses of wine have painted a gentle flush across her cheeks. She adds a heaping spoonful of the mystery white dip to her plate.

"What's that?" I ask, peering over her shoulder.

"Horseradish," she says with such enthusiasm you'd think she'd discovered gold. "For the prime rib."

I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you hated horseradish. Just last week, you said it ruins perfectly good meat."

She shrugs, loading even more onto her plate. "I know, it's weird. But I’m totally craving it."

We find our seats and I watch as she takes a bite of prime rib with a generous helping of horseradish and makes a sound that really isn’t appropriate in public.

"Good God, woman," I say, glancing around to make sure no one else witnessed whatever that was.