ELI

If someone had told me back in college that I’d be marrying Erin, I would’ve laughed them out of the room. We were the classic almost—close, messy, and unresolved. But here I was. Tux pressed. Vows memorized. Champagne on ice.

And Cass tying my bow tie like it wasn’t also the day his best friend was getting married.

“You’re doing that thing again,” I said, watching him in the mirror.

He didn’t look up. “What thing?”

“The thing where you stare like someone just ran over your dog.”

He smirked—barely. “Just helping you not look like a clown on your wedding day. You’re welcome.”

I laughed. But it didn’t touch the weight in my chest.

The truth was, I’d never stopped feeling guilty. For Kara. For everything.

Cass had fallen. Hard. And she shattered him. I might not have swung the hammer, but I handed it to her.

He hadn’t dated anyone since. Not one swipe. Not one flirt. Not even his signature “We’ll see where this goes” shrug.

Nope. He went cold turkey. Twitch streams at night. Gym mornings. Rinse. Repeat.

Once, after a few too many drinks, he’d muttered something that stayed lodged in my gut like a splinter.

“I’m not afraid of falling for someone again,” he said, glassy-eyed. “I’m afraid they’ll love me back—and still leave. Or worse… not leave fast enough.”

That night, he’d passed out on my couch.

But I never forgot.

So today—on my big day—I decided to do something for him.

“I’m calling in my favor,” I said.

Cass looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Seriously? Now?”

“Yup.”I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“What’s the ask?”

“I want you to ask a girl for one dance. Just one. At the wedding.”

He blinked, then pulled out his phone and tapped the screen dramatically on the calendar app. “Hmm… too bad. Says here your favor expired last week.”

“Cass—”

“Not gonna happen,” he said, clapping me on the back like a coach subbing out a player.

He turned toward the door.

“Just one dance,” I called after him.

He glanced over his shoulder.

“One’s how it starts,” he said. “And we both know how it ends.”

Then he walked out, leaving me with my bow tie, my guilt, and the hope that maybe—just maybe—he’d surprise me on the dance floor.