BROOKE.

Jess’s voice cut through the prosecco haze like a blade.

“Brooke. Who’s Nolan?”

The private dining room suddenly felt too small. Too bright. The other bridesmaids were still laughing about something on the opposite end of the table, oblivious, but Jess’s eyes were locked on my phone and the message still glowing on the screen.

I snatched it facedown so hard the edge scraped my palm.

“No one,” I said. Too fast. “Old friend. It’s nothing.”

Jess didn’t smile. She leaned in, voice low enough that only I could hear. “That didn’t look like nothing. That looked like someone calling you little sister and talking about your vows. Brooke…...