The Wedding Invitation
Sienna Blake had three solid rules for getting through a breakup:
1. Block him, delete him, and never stalk.
2. Reinvent yourself, but don’t go overboard.
3. Absolutely avoid your ex’s wedding.
She’d already messed up the first two.
Now, Rule Three was slipping through her fingers, right there in her perfectly organized inbox.
The subject line blared:
You’re Invited!
And the email body was even worse:
“Join us for a weekend of love, laughter, and forever. – Trevor & Kaylee”
Kaylee. The woman Sienna’s ex swore was “just a friend.” Turns out, she was also the one getting a wedding dress.
Sienna stared at her screen, coffee forgotten in her hand, and read the email again for maybe the third time. She wanted to hit delete. She wanted to call up her best friend and scream until her voice was gone. She even wanted to book a flight to Bali, toss her phone into the ocean, and live on coconut water and revenge.
But instead, she clicked RSVP: Yes.
Why? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was a bit of masochism. Or perhaps it was that annoying little part of her that still wanted Trevor to realize what he’d lost.
But there was a catch. The invitation said:
“Bring your plus one!”
Since the breakup, Sienna’s love life had been a total wasteland. Her last date ended with him ranking her against his exes on a spreadsheet, no less. The thought of showing up solo while everyone whispered, “Oh, poor Sienna,” made her stomach turn.
She definitely needed a plus one. And not just any plus one she needed a charming, photogenic, emotionally-aloof guy who could convincingly play the role of her new boyfriend.
So, Sienna typed into her browser:
“Professional plus one service.”
Fast forward three days, and there she was, sitting across from Jack Carter at a trendy café downtown, wondering if she was making a huge mistake or maybe the best decision ever.
He was tall, annoyingly handsome, and sipping his espresso like it was an everyday occurrence. (To be fair, it probably was.)
“So,” Jack said, setting his cup down, “Your ex is marrying the woman he cheated on you with, and you want me to act like your incredibly hot, wildly successful boyfriend? Did I get that right?”
Sienna cleared her throat. “He didn’t technically cheat. But yes, you nailed the gist.”
Jack grinned. “You’d be surprised how often this happens.”
“Please don’t ruin this for me,” she replied under her breath.
He leaned back, arms crossed. “Alright, here’s the deal. I’m discreet, professional, and good at spinning a story. But if we’re doing this, we stick to my protocol.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have a protocol?”
“Absolutely,” Jack said. “Rule One: Keep our backstory simple met online, been dating for a few months, we both love oat milk and obscure documentaries.”
“Specific,” she said, a little suspicious.
“Rule Two: Public displays of affection should look natural, but not desperate. No tongue unless absolutely essential.”
Sienna nearly choked on her water.
“Rule Three,” he continued, more serious now, “No real feelings. This is all just acting. We charm, mingle, own the dance floor, and then we vanish like a mirage.”
Sienna sized him up. He was confident maybe a bit too much but there was something about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t seem to care what she thought that made him oddly trustworthy.
“I’ll pay you your full rate. Plus a bonus if you survive my mom’s interrogation.”
Jack extended his hand. “Deal.”
She shook it, sealing her fate.
The following week flew by: outfit planning, rehearsing their backstory, and mentally gearing up for four days on a tropical island pretending everything was fine. Her friends thought she was nuts. Her sister even begged her to fake a stomach bug.
But Sienna Blake had made up her mind. She was going to that wedding. She was going to smile, look stunning in satin, and maybe even flirt with the bartender just for kicks.
And if anyone asked how she met Jack?
She’d just smile and say, “It’s a funny story.”
Because it always was.
