I woke up at 5:47 AM, thirteen minutes before my alarm, with the taste of champagne still ghost-like on my tongue and the memory of Lucas’s hand in mine feeling more vivid than it had any right to be.

For exactly thirty seconds, I let myself lie there and think about the dock. The way his voice had sounded in the darkness, stripped of all pretense. The warmth of his shoulder against mine. How natural it had felt to lace our fingers together, like our hands had been designed to fit that way.

Then my alarm went off and I catapulted back into reality. Maya’s wedding day. The most important...