Chapter 137: The Wedding Invitations

Chapter 137: Chapter 137: The Wedding Invitations

The desk was a grid of straight lines. Pens sat parallel to the legal pads. The laptop sat dead center. And right in the middle of all that sterile order sat two cream-colored envelopes.

Zoya stared at them.

She picked one up, turned it over, and read her own name printed beside Jackson’s. For a woman who had spent the better part of her adult life treating marriage like an unnecessary legal contract, it felt entirely absurd.

Her phone buzzed on the mahogany surface.

She answered without looking. "Are you finished?"

"Finished with what?" Jackson’s voice came through the speaker, low and dry.

"Pretending you’re not excited."

Zoya frowned at the envelopes. "I’m a lawyer. I don’t get excited."

A short pause on the line. "You redesigned the invitation proofs three times."

"Four."

Jackson let out a low laugh.

Zoya tried to keep her face neutral. She failed. "Don’t sound so pleased with yourself."

"You’re marrying me. I’m allowed to be pleased."

She looked down at the heavy paper stock. The annoyance in her chest melted into something much softer. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," Jackson said, and hung up.

---

Later that afternoon, Zoya dropped the envelopes onto the table at a quiet corner booth.

Audrey stared at hers. Then she looked up at Zoya. "No way."

"Open it," Zoya said, leaning back.

Audrey and Chloe broke the seals. Inside, embossed in dark ink, were the names: Zoya Ivanov & Jackson Pierce.

Chloe stared at the card for a long second, then blinked up at Zoya. "You’re actually doing it."

"That is generally the point of a wedding invitation, Chloe."

Before Zoya could react, Chloe leaped across the bench and threw her arms around her neck. Zoya froze, her hands hovering in mid-air. "Chloe."

"I’m just so happy for you!"

Audrey joined in, leaning over to wrap them both in a tight hug. Zoya let out a long, long sigh, her stiff posture slowly relaxing as she gave in to the weight of it.

Once they settled back down, Audrey traced the edge of the card with her thumb. "If someone had told me seven years ago that you and Jackson would end up here..."

"You would’ve laughed," Zoya finished.

"Instantly," Audrey said.

"So would I," Zoya murmured.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. They simply sat there for a moment, looking at the invitations and everything they had survived to get there.

Chloe smiled softly, resting her chin on her hand. "And how are things with Mason?"

Audrey felt a familiar warmth creep up her neck. "He’s good."

Zoya narrowed her eyes. "Just good?"

"Don’t start," Audrey warned, though she was smiling.

---

Across town, Jackson dropped two identical envelopes onto a wooden table at a lunch spot where Mason and Leo were already sitting.

Mason picked his up. "What’s this?"

Jackson leaned back, crossing his arms. "My wedding invitation."

Leo froze halfway through pouring water into his glass. "Your what?"

"My wedding invitation."

Leo tore open the flap. His eyes landed on the names printed inside. Jackson Pierce & Zoya Ivanov. He slowly raised his head. "You and Zoya?"

"Yes."

"Zoya?"

Jackson stared at him. "Still yes."

Mason burst out laughing, shaking his head. Leo dragged a hand down his face. "I genuinely never saw this coming."

"Neither did she," Jackson said.

Mason scanned the card again, a grin spreading across his face. "Actually, I think everyone saw it coming except the two of you."

Leo pointed a finger at Jackson. "You spent years arguing about jurisdiction and corporate mergers."

"We still argue," Jackson pointed out.

"And now you’re getting married?"

Jackson shrugged, a rare, easy smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Apparently, that’s our version of romance."

Mason turned the card over in his hands. His expression softened, losing its teasing edge. "You happy, man?"

Jackson didn’t hesitate. "Yeah."

---

The next morning, the office was quiet. Audrey sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen with a completely dazed expression. She wasn’t typing. She was just smiling.

Daisy walked past her desk, stopped, and took two steps backward. She stared at Audrey like she had grown a second head. "What’s wrong with you?"

Audrey blinked. "Nothing."

"You’re smiling."

"I’m allowed to smile."

Daisy narrowed her eyes. "Did Mason do something?"

"No."

"Did he buy you something?"

"No."

Daisy leaned over the partition. "Did he finally propose?"

Audrey nearly choked on her own spit. "Daisy!"

Daisy burst out laughing. "I had to ask!"

Audrey shook her head, pulling Zoya’s invitation out of her bag and tossing it onto Daisy’s desk. "It’s Zoya."

Daisy picked it up. Her eyebrows shot up as she read the names. "Wow." Then she looked back at Audrey, her eyes bright. "We’re going shopping."

"The wedding isn’t tomorrow."

"Exactly," Daisy said, already grabbing her tote bag. "Which means we have time."

As they walked down the corridor toward the breakroom, Daisy looked down at the cream envelope in her hand. "You know what’s weird?"

"What?"

"Everyone’s sort of... finding their way somewhere."

Audrey smiled, bumping her shoulder gently against Daisy’s. "You’ll have your own story."

Daisy immediately pointed a warning finger at her. "Don’t."

"I didn’t say anything!"

"Your face did."

---

Later that evening, the office was practically empty. Daisy rushed back through the glass doors because she had left her phone charger plugged into the wall near her desk.

The main floor was dark, save for the light glowing from the back office.

She walked toward it and found Ben sitting behind his desk. On the corner sat Spike, the stubborn little cactus that had somehow survived years of neglect since their college days.

Daisy stopped in the doorway. "You still have him."

Ben looked up from his screen. "Obviously."

She walked closer, tilting her head. "I honestly thought you would’ve killed him by now."

"He’s more resilient than you think."

"That’s Spike."

Ben held her gaze. "You named him."

"You kept the name."

A strange, quiet tension filled the space between them. Neither moved. Then, Daisy’s eyes drifted down to Ben’s desk. Zoya’s wedding invitation was propped against a stack of files, with Ben’s name neatly written on the guest registry slip.

She looked back up at him. "You’re going?"

"Of course."

"With anyone?"

Ben didn’t look away. "No."

Daisy nodded slowly. "Okay."

She turned toward the exit.

"Daisy."

She stopped, looking back over her shoulder. Ben hesitated. It was the kind of hesitation the old Ben would have used to let her walk away, to hide behind his pride.

"Are you going with anyone?" he asked.

Daisy raised an eyebrow. "You already asked me that."

"I know."

"So why are you asking again?"

Ben didn’t have a clever deflection ready. He just looked at her. "I wanted to know."

Daisy studied him for a long moment. She didn’t make it easy for him. "No."

Ben nodded. "Okay."

She waited, her arms crossed. "That’s it?"

"What else should I say?"

A small, amused smile touched Daisy’s lips. "I don’t know. You’re the one asking."

Ben looked down at his desk, then back up. "I’ll see you at the wedding."

"You will."

She turned and walked out. Ben watched the glass door swing shut behind her. He didn’t chase after her. He didn’t try to say the right thing.

Ben looked at the cactus on his desk.

For once, he didn’t wonder whether Daisy would come back. He wondered what he could do to make her want to stay.

---

The next morning, Daisy walked to her desk and stopped dead in her tracks.

A paper cup sat right in the center of her blotter. Dark roast. The exact kind she used to bring him, back when she was the one doing all the chasing.

She looked around the room. Ben was already at his terminal, typing away without looking up.

Daisy picked up the cup, walked over, and set it down near his keyboard. "What’s this?"

Ben didn’t look up from his screen. "Coffee."

"I know what coffee is."

He finally lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You used to bring it to me."

Daisy’s breath hitched slightly. "You remembered?"

Ben’s expression softened, the rigid lines of his face relaxing just a fraction. "I remember a lot more than you think."

She didn’t thank him. She didn’t offer a witty comeback. She just turned, walked back to her desk, and picked up the cup, taking a slow sip.

Across the room, Ben turned back to his monitor. But as he looked at the screen, the corner of his mouth curved upward.