The doorbell rang at exactly six-thirty.
My entire nervous system short-circuited.
Jasmine clapped once. “Showtime.”
Alexis shoved me gently toward the stairs.
I took one breath.
Then another.
And walked down.
Landon was standing in our entryway with my parents, my sisters, and Nathan all staring at him like he had personally descended from a teenage girl’s Pinterest board.
And to be fair—
that was not entirely inaccurate.
He wore a black tailored suit with no tie, just the top few buttons of his white shirt undone in that infuriatingly effortless way that should not have been legal.
His dark hair was pushed back from his face just enough to show those impossible blue eyes.
And in his hands was a bouquet of white roses.
Not red.
Not cliché.
White.
Which somehow made it wors
