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Chapter 1
Chapter One: The Glasshouse Hashtag
The venue looks like it’s been curated by an algorithm with good taste: a glasshouse in the middle of Marigold Vineyard, all blush roses, brass candlesticks, and a neon-script sign proclaiming “Forever-ish” in a coy wink of pink. Drones idle on a charging mat, waiting to hover at golden hour. The wedding planner whispers to her earpiece like the stock market is in free fall.
I—Nora Kim, maid of honor—have a spreadsheet printed in triplicate and a tote bag that reads, “I plan, therefore I am.” My best friend, Tessa, is the bride. She is unfairly serene, a living dewy-lid tutorial. She squeezes my hands. “Don’t worry,” she says, “it’s going to be perfect.”
It would be, except for Ben Calder—the best man. He shows up five minutes late carrying two iced coffees and one box labeled “Emergency Confetti—Biodegradable.” His tux is the wrong shade of navy and somehow includes a velvet bow tie big enough to land a small plane. Ben is a golden retriever man dropped in a room of crystal vases.
“You ordered left-handed cufflinks,” I say before he can start smoothing the lapels.
“There’s a difference?” he asks, delighting in my visible pain.
“Only if we believe in order,” I say. “Which I do.”
Ben grins, offering me a coffee. “Then it looks like you and I were paired by fate. Or your Google Calendar.”
We glare in the way people do before a fire starts. Somewhere in the vineyard, an alpaca snorts.
