Page 85 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
I follow him across the living room, the late light spilling across the rugs in long, amber stripes. He slides the door open and a rush of cool air slips in, carrying the smell of the Hudson and the faint tang of street food from three blocks away. From up here, the city doesn’t look hostile. It looks endless.
Jack leans his elbows on the railing, looking down like he’s surveying his own kingdom. “So,” he says, “back to the aisle song. You still haven’t given me an answer.”
“I’m not committing to anything with you staring at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re negotiating a merger, not a wedding.”
His mouth lifts. “Same skill set.”
I rest my forearms on the cool metal beside him. “Fine. Something classic. Not overused, but timeless.”
“So not ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ Got it.”
“That’s not even… You’re impossible.”
“Impossible and yours,” he says easily, his shoulder brushing mine. “What about colors?”
“Not all white,” I say. “Something with depth, warm neutrals, maybe a deep green. The kind of palette that photographs well in candlelight.”
“Photographs well? So this is really about the pictures.”
“This is about remembering the night forever,” I correct.
He looks at me for a long moment. “I don’t need pictures for that.”
The words catch me off guard. They’re simple, but the way he says them feels like a promise.
I clear my throat, nudging him with my shoulder. “Guest list?”
“Short,” he says. “People who’d jump in front of a train for you. Or at least a bad headline.”
“Then it’ll be very short,” I murmur, smiling. “So not my father.”
“And not mine,” Jack says without hesitation. “And not my mother either.”
That catches me for a moment, but I see the resolve in his face.
“She’d come in pearls and frost,” I say.
“And she’d leave the same way,” Jack replies. “This day isn’t about performance. It’s about us. If she can’t see that, she doesn’t get a seat.”
Jack’s gaze hardens. “They’ll hear about it eventually. My father won’t like being excluded.”
“My father won’t either,” I say. “Which is exactly why we keep them off the list. If they show up uninvited…”
“They won’t get past security,” Jack finishes. His tone is calm, but it carries the kind of certainty that leaves no doubt.
Still, a flicker of unease stirs in my chest. They’ve both pulled strings before. Crashing a wedding wouldn’t be beneath them.
“Quality over quantity,” Jack says after a beat. “But I do want Dawson there, and Santiago.”
“Santiago at our wedding?” I tilt my head. “Only if he leaves his tie loose and promises not to run background checks on the band.”
“He can’t promise that,” Jack says, almost apologetic. “But I can promise he’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“Add it to the list,” I say, pretending to write in the air. “No fluorescent lights, no interrogation vibes, limited background checks.”
