The Third Wheel Bride Chapter 01
Brianna Moretti’s POV
The night before the wedding, one of those small couple accounts I followed made its final post.
[Ten years. This is where it ends.]
[He’s someone else’s husband now. I’m just the girl waiting in the wings.]
[No more updates. I wish my best friend and the man she loves nothing but happiness.]
There was a photo attached, taken from behind us at the bridal boutique.
The floor seemed to drop out from under me.
That photo was from last week.
Emma Miller had been adjusting my veil, the two of us talking about nothing and everything.
In the mirror, her smile was wider than mine. Like she was the one about to walk down the aisle.
“Brianna, oh my god.” Her voice cracked. “What did Caleb do to deserve you?”
A few feet away, Caleb Costello stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, head bent over his phone. Some syndicate issue, some crisis. The usual.
He glanced up when he heard his name and gave us a tight but fond smile.
But that smile never quite reached his eyes. I could never figure out what lurked behind it.
“Stop.” I squeezed Emma’s hand. “If you hadn’t dragged me here, I would’ve grabbed something off the rack at Saks.”
“Off the rack?” Emma’s eyes went wide. “Bri. It’s your wedding. You go custom.”
She looked over at Caleb. “Tell her.”
Caleb pocketed the phone that probably had half the city’s underbosses waiting, walked over, and slid his arm around my waist like he owned me.
“Saks?” He looked at me. “Brianna looks good in anything.”
His gaze moved over me, slow and deliberate. “But this one was made for you.”
Those blue eyes held mine, warm on the surface, with something possessive flickering underneath.
On our way out for the outdoor photos, Emma snapped a candid of us from behind.
The shutter sound gave her away. I turned, and she just shrugged and said she wanted something to remember the day.
At my bachelorette party later that night, I got completely wasted.
Emma stepped in without being asked, the way she always did.
By the time Caleb showed up to take me home, she was pressing a cold compress against my forehead.
“I’ve got her.” She waved him off. “It’s her bachelorette. No grooms allowed.”
Caleb didn’t come in. He just stood in the doorway.
His eyes settled on Emma, and the look on his face was something I couldn’t name.
I was slumped against the couch, watching them both through a haze of vodka.
“Caleb…” His name came out thick and slurred.
That broke whatever it was. He crossed the room, pulled me into him, fingers digging possessively into my hip. “How much did you drink?”
Emma laughed. “She’s happy, Caleb. She’s getting married.”
“She told me freshman year that if she ever got married, she was getting trashed at her bachelorette.” Emma’s smile went soft. “Tonight, she got her wish.”
She was right. I had said that.
We’d also promised to be each other’s maid of honor, and even after Caleb and I got together, that never changed.
He scooped me up and gave Emma a nod. “Thanks for looking after her.”
“Of course.” Emma’s voice dropped to almost nothing. “It’s the last time I’ll get to.”
I was too far gone to understand what those words really meant.
The next morning, I woke up in my hotel suite, my head pounding, and a notification lit up my phone.
I’d stumbled onto that account by accident months before. I was bored, scrolling the Nearby feed, when a profile picture caught my eye. It was a dark, vintage movie still I loved.
The account had barely three thousand followers.
The last post was three days old. It was a photo of a desk lamp glowing at some ungodly hour, with a caption underneath.
[Pulled an all-nighter. He swore he’d skip dinner with me, but we caved and ordered from our favorite Italian spot anyway. Idiot.]
[He said I haven’t been eating enough and made me split his steak with him. I told him I don’t even like red meat. He called me a picky brat who’ll never grow up.]
[Stargazing out at the Hamptons estate. He said he wished time would stop. Honestly? Same.]
[Got sick. He can’t even fry an egg, but he insisted on making oatmeal from scratch. It was burned. Best thing I’ve ever tasted.]
…
I read every post, and something behind my ribs ached in a way I didn’t expect.
All that quiet, ordinary warmth. It was exactly the kind of life I used to daydream about.
I’d wanted to leave a comment and wish them well, but comments were turned off. So I just hit follow.
Turned out, I was the clueless extra in the background of every single frame, and I never even knew it.
She said they’d been in love for ten years.
Caleb and I had been together for exactly ten years.
