Fallon
The dining room table was drowning in wedding plans. Fabric swatches, floral arrangement samples, and endless seating charts covered every inch of the polished wood surface.
And Reid?
Nowhere to be found.
I stared at the chaos before me, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. For weeks, I had been the one juggling meetings with the planner, answering endless emails, and making every single decision about this wedding.
Our wedding.
Except Reid had barely lifted a finger.
The sound of the front door clicking shut broke my train of thought.
"Finally," I muttered under my breath.
Reid's heavy footsteps echoed through the hall, and moments later, he appeared, looking entirely too composed for a man walking into a battlefield. He loosened his tie and glanced at the table, his brows lifting slightly.
"Busy day?" he asked casually.
I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "You think?"
He ignored my tone and strolled over, picking up a seating chart. "Who's this… Lillian St. James?"
My jaw tightened. "A friend of my mother's. She insisted we invite her."
"Never heard of her," he said, tossing the chart back onto the table.
I snapped. "Well, maybe if you bothered to show up for a single meeting, you'd know who she is!"
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, cool and sharp. "I've been busy."
"Oh, I noticed," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "While you've been busy running your empire, I've been the one carrying this entire circus on my back!"
He set his tie on the chair, his expression hardening. "It's a wedding, Fallon. Not a hostile takeover."
I felt my pulse quicken, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Is that what you think this is? A waste of time?"
"I didn't say that," he replied, his tone clipped.
"But you act like it," I snapped. "You haven't been to one tasting, one venue tour, one damn appointment! But the second you walk in, you're suddenly interested in who sits where?"
His jaw clenched, and a cold edge seeped into his voice. "I didn't think you wanted my opinion. You've made it clear this is your show."
I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the tense silence. "Oh, please. Don't twist this on me. You haven't been here to have an opinion!"
Reid's eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous behind them. "I was under the impression you liked being in control."
I stepped forward, my voice low but fierce. "I like having a partner, Reid. Not a ghost."
The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, heavy and stifling.
But then, because he just had to push further, he said it—
"Why are you making such a big deal out of a wedding you claim you don't even want?"
I felt the words like a slap, and something inside me—something raw and wounded—snapped.
"Because this isn't just a wedding, Reid!" My voice rose, shaking with emotion. "It's my life being plastered all over the internet, my name dragged through the mud, my followers treating me like a trophy wife instead of a person! And through all of it, you've been… absent."
His silence was deafening.
I sucked in a shaky breath, my chest tight. "So no, you don't get to waltz in here last minute and start picking at the details like you've earned that right."
Reid's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice cold and sharp. "Fine. Do whatever you want. You clearly don't need me."
I felt the weight of his dismissal, the finality in his tone. And it hit me harder than I expected.
My voice dropped, suddenly quieter, but no less wounded. "I don't need you to plan a wedding, Reid." I met his eyes, my heart thundering. "But it would've been nice if you'd wanted to."
The silence that followed was the loudest thing in the room.
Reid's expression shifted—briefly. Something flickered there. Regret? Guilt? I couldn't tell, and I was too tired to care.
Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone amid the ruins of our not-so-perfect engagement.