The wedding was supposed to be perfect. And it was—mostly.

Rachel had spent months planning every last detail, from the floral arrangements to the exact shade of ivory in her dress. And as her maid of honor, you made sure every little thing went smoothly. No cold feet, no last-minute disasters—just your best friend marrying the man she loved.

Gaz was a good guy, from what you knew. You’d only met him a handful of times, but Rachel adored him, even if his military deployments sometimes strained their relationship. He made her happy, and that was all that mattered.

As for the best man? You hadn’t really spared him a thought. You knew his name—Simon Riley. Another military guy, quiet and brooding, always lurking just out of focus. He had a sharp suit, a sharper gaze, and a presence that made people take notice, but you were too busy making sure Rachel didn’t trip in her heels to care.

Then came the drinks. The toasts. The endless champagne. Somewhere between the speeches and the dance floor, things got a little blurry. You remember laughing. A strong arm catching you when you stumbled. A low chuckle, rough like gravel.

And then—black.

Morning light slices through unfamiliar curtains. Your head pounds. The sheets smell like something distinctly not yours—something dark and musky, a hint of cologne still clinging to the fabric.

A groan rumbles beside you.

You freeze. Slowly, slowly, you turn your head. And there he is.

Simon Riley.

The best man.

Shit.