But I know better.
She finds me a few minutes later, slipping her hand into mine, and her voice has an edge to it. “Why the fuck is she here?”
“Deacon’s one of the newer players. I’m sure he isn’t aware of our history. If he was, he wouldn’t have brought her anywhere near us.”
Classic manipulative move by Celeste.
Magnolia hums, the sound low and unimpressed. Her eyes follow Celeste for half a beat. “She’s wearing white at our engagement party. The fucking nerve!”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not my bride.”
She arches a brow. “Are we gonna let this go?”
“Yeah, we’re letting it go. For now.” I glance toward our guests. “She’s here to get a reaction. Let’s not give her one. This is our special night.”
There’s a pause.
Magnolia’s gaze bores into mine. “That’s going to be really hard for me, Alex.”
“I know, babe, but you can do it.”
“All right. Fuck it. No reaction.”
We agree—no drama. No letting Celeste steal even a second of this night.
The next hour slips by in a haze of handshakes and toasts. I make the rounds, thank the people who matter, nod at the ones who don’t. Magnolia’s never far, always in the corner of my eye—even when I’m deep in conversation, she’s the constant.
But of course… Celeste waits for the moment I’m alone. She always has a flair for timing.
I’m behind the trellis near the old stone bench—grabbing a breath and savoring the stillness—when our uninvited guest approaches.
Celeste blinks fast, her composure slipping. “I know you’re angry at me. I know I messed up. But Tyson didn’t tell me what he was planning—I thought I could control it, steer it. I was trying to protect you?—”
“Don’t lie to me again,” I cut in, low and lethal. “You were in on it. You sold me out. At least admit it.”
She hesitates—then nods. “Fine. I did. But only because I couldn’t watch you throw yourself away on someone who doesn’t deserve you.”
My jaw flexes. “And you think you do?”
Her eyes gloss with tears. “I loved you, Alex… and I still do.”
I laugh, humorless and sharp. “You loved the version of me you thought you could control. And maybe I let you for a while. But here’s the truth, Celeste. I never loved you. I never even came close. You were never worthy of my love, and you damn sure don’t deserve it now.”
Her face crumples, mascara bleeding down porcelain skin. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. Because all of my love—every piece of it—belongs to Magnolia, the woman you tried to wreck. And she’s still standing. Still shining. While you? You’re just someone I used to know, a woman wearing a white dress at another bride’s engagement party.”
Celeste’s lips part like she wants to argue. Maybe apologize. Or beg. But I walk away. Because that conversation is over. She lost the war the moment she underestimated my love for the woman who now wears my ring. And I won’t give her another second of my time.
I turn away from the trellis, from the shadow she’s already fading into, and rejoin the warmth of the evening—the low thrum of laughter, the clink of glassware, the scent of garden roses and citrus wafting through the air.
Magnolia is across the lawn, head tipped back in a laugh that catches the light, one hand wrapped around a champagne flute, the other linked through Violet’s arm.
She’s on cloud nine. I see it. I feel it. And that makes me happy.
As I ease back into the crowd, Jack’s midway through some dramatic reenactment involving a diaper explosion at the zoo. Kye’s wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, and one of my rookie teammates looks horrified.
“Listen,” Jack says, grinning, “you think rugby is full-contact? Try getting a toddler into a car seat when you’re in a hurry.”
