Chapter 2: A Billionaire’s Invitation

After I stormed out of the wedding, my phone buzzed with a trending topic:

[Savannah’s Prince Caleb Price buys original painting ‘Daisy: Secret Love’ in London for a billion.]

I stared at the painting’s photo on my screen, the colors brighter, the longing in every brushstroke suddenly obvious.

After a minute, I opened Facebook Messenger and pulled up my old nemesis, Caleb Price.

His last message—half a year ago:

[Crybaby, Happy New Year.]

[I need a marriage partner. If Ethan Carter won’t marry you this year, marry me and make him eat his heart out.]

Scrolling up, I found my own words:

[Caleb Price, do all you guys just enjoy making girls wait? I’ve waited six years, and Ethan still won’t marry me.]

[He says youth is priceless, that a man can’t be tied down. He told me to wait another year.]

Reading it now—“youth is priceless”—I bit back tears. My thumb hovered over the screen, wishing I could scrub those words out of my memory.

I typed, fast:

[Caleb, Ethan and I are done. The wedding in seven days needs a new groom. If you’re coming, reply with 1.]

I hit send—and my phone died, the screen going black. Perfect. Even my phone was over this drama.

Back at the hotel, I started packing. The zipper snagged on a stray sequin. I yanked harder, tossing in the dress I’d spent months choosing, the one that would never see an aisle. Shoes, makeup, all the careful plans for a wedding that was never going to happen—all shoved in at once. My hands shook, but I kept going, because if I stopped, I’d fall apart.

Three days ago, Ethan and I came to Maple Heights to pick a venue. Last night, Aubrey and his friends showed up, went out drinking, and never came back.

This morning, I overheard a bellhop say Ethan was throwing a wedding with Aubrey by the ocean—handing out wedding favors to every random passerby.

That’s when it hit me: If a guy wants to marry you, he doesn’t stall. He doesn’t keep you on the hook.