Page 4 of Downfall

“Don’t you dare change a thing,” Emory squeals. “It’s perfect.”

Allie’s lips turn up into a slight smile. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.” She sweeps by me, leaning down to speak softly into my ear. “Thank you. This means everything to him.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She smiles again, wider this time. It’s almost the same one she gives Ashton when she thinks no one is looking—almost.

Allie opens the door, and I start to follow, but Emory grabs my wrist. “I think my eyeshadow got smudged. Can you help me, Sky?” She looks back to her best friend. “We’ll meet you in there.”

“Sure,” I say as Allie nods and slips out the door.

Emory’s all over me the second we hear the soft click of the door closing. “Okay, so this is super last minute, but I’m throwing them an after-party. I’ve been meaning to call you all day, but Rowan’s been teething and only let go of me when Luke got home. And yes, before you say anything, I know they said no reception. Ashton said he’d rather celebrate by eating in peace. Which, honestly…gross. I wasn’t born yesterday.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head before getting back to the task at hand. “But it’s just going to be a few people at the Daffodil. Allie’s staff is handling the appetizers, I ordered a few cases of champagne, and the happy couple can leave whenever they want.”

I blink.

An after-party. At the Daffodil. Short for Daffodil Provisions—the restaurant Allie opened after she left the paper last year.

Champagne.

Appetizers.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Emory asks, nibbling on her bottom lip. “You think it’s a terrible idea?”

I sigh. This is yet another event that I will miss out on in my effort to avoid Declan Astor. We’ve played this carefully constructed game of social chicken for years now. I’ll be within a few feet of him for ten—maybe fifteen—minutes during the ceremony, and then he can go to the after-party, and I’ll be on my merry way home to my couch and a fridge full of leftover Thai food.

I look back up at Emory, realizing I still haven’t responded.

“It’s a great idea, Em. Ash is super close with his siblings. I’m sure they would love to celebrate with him.”

Emory lets out a breath. “Yes, exactly. That’s how this whole thing started. His sister apparently got wind of the whole elopement situation and insisted we do something after. I sort of threw it together this morning before Luke left for work.”

I open my mouth to give her an excuse for not being able to go, but she keeps speaking.

“Anyway, I’m going to head over to the Daffodil right after the ceremony and make sure everything is good to go. Can you get Allie and Ash there?”

“Oh, I⁠—”

“You can make up an excuse, like you left something at the restaurant the other day, so they’ll let you in even though it's closed.”

“That’s—”

“Please, Sky.” Emory looks at me, her hazel eyes doing that puppy-dog thing, and I finally understand how Luke, her fiancé, is completely helpless when it comes to her.

I blow out a breath. “Okay.”

I’ll get them there and slip out while everyone is distracted.

Emory turns, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on her lips. “Great, let’s go.”

I brace myself as we walk down the hallway toward the small room in the courthouse that is reserved for weddings. My heart thuds as we turn the corner, but when we finally enter the room, it’s just Ash and Allie standing with the officiant. Ashton is beaming as he stares at Allie, who smirks back at him, with love reflecting in her ocean eyes.

“Looks like we have our witnesses,” the older man says, checking his watch with a weary sigh.

Ashton turns toward us, enveloping Emory in a hug before doing the same to me. “You both look beautiful. Thank you for being here.”

Allie told us we could wear whatever we wanted today, which Emory took as free rein to buy us matching blush mini dresses. I’m not sure what’s gotten into her. She’s usually a T-shirt and leggings girl when she’s not wearing her scrubs.

Ashton breaks our hug and that’s when I feel him. Even after six years, I can sense when he walks into a room. I must have stumbled, because I realize I’m clutching Ashton’s arm like it’s the only thing holding me up. Ash shifts his body, allowing me to see the man in question standing only feet away, and my soul almost leaves my body. Holy shit. I shouldn’t be shocked, because it’s not like I don’t know what he looks like after snooping around on Ashton’s Instagram. I haven’t dared to go near Declan’s account. Knowing me, I’d accidentally like something. Still, pictures have not done the man justice. His once-dark hair is now dyed blonde, but his natural roots give him an edgy look. He has the same espresso eyes, the same lip ring—the one he made me go with him to get when he was sixteen. He was nervous, so I held his hand. I flex mine now, the memory of his touch ghosting my palm.