Chapter 283: Who the Fuck Invited My Ex?!

For what felt like an eternity, neither of us made a move...honestly, I couldn’t tell if I was even breathing.

Damien wasn’t being dramatic; he didn’t stride over, didn’t call my name, and certainly didn’t make any grand gestures to prompt me into action.

Instead, he just stood there, looking at me. And somehow, that made everything feel worse.

There was a crowd around us, but I felt like we were the only two people in that spacious ballroom.

The music played softly in the background, conversations drifted on uncertain murmurs, and now and then, someone would glance our way as if we were caught in a celebrity scandal.

I couldn’t really blame them. If I were in their shoes, I’d probably be staring too. Damien Lockwood had waltzed into a wedding out of nowhere, flanked by enough serious-looking security that it was clear he was no longer just the wealthy university student I once knew.

He was something else now...a powerful figure that others naturally made way for, without being asked. And he was looking at me like I was the only one that mattered in that crowded room.

My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand, almost convincing myself that if I squeezed hard enough, the crystal would shatter, sparing me from having to figure out how to react.

After all this time...now this asshole waltzes back in?!

"Oliver?" Connor’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I blinked. "What?"

He leaned in a bit closer, concern etched on his face...his polite worry making it clear he sensed something was off but had no idea that the human equivalent of a corporate takeover was happening right there on the dance floor.

"Are you okay?"

I glanced at him, then at Damien, and back to Connor. "Yes."

The word slipped out automatically, like when someone says "I’m fine" right after their entire world feels like it’s crumbling apart.

Connor didn’t look convinced. "You don’t look okay."

"I’m fine."

That was a lie. I was very much not fine. I had spent nearly four years daydreaming about what it would feel like to see Damien again, yet none of those daydreams had prepared me for standing there at my best friend’s wedding, with another man’s hand still warm around my waist, while Damien looked like he just stepped out of a high-profile business magazine.

I couldn’t even pinpoint which emotion to feel first. Anger was buzzing there, shock was definitely a visitor, and confusion had somehow set up camp in my heart.

Buried beneath it all, though, was something painfully close to relief.

Damien was here, he was actually here.

And a part of me...one I hated was celebrating.

Across the room, Damien finally made a move. He walked toward us...no rush, no hesitation.

As he stepped into the crowd, people moved aside almost instinctively, making room for him as if oceans were parting for a fancy yacht.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He looked different, older, sharper, more polished. There was something tougher about his face now, a control that hadn’t been there before.

The boy I once knew might have been quiet and intimidating, but there had been those moments he’d laugh...times when his expression would soften when I was around.

But the man approaching wasn’t someone who laughed easily anymore.

Then, his eyes landed on me again, and something shifted, just a flicker at the corner of his mouth.

I looked away before I could react, as the last thing I needed was for my face to betray me and soften back in response.

Damien stopped in front of Joey and Natasha.

"Congratulations." He said.

Joey just stared at him, looking like he’d completely forgotten how to freaking speak, which was saying something for someone whose entire personality was usually about talking too much.

"D–Damien Lockwood..."

Damien nodded slightly. "I’m glad I was invited."

I nearly choked.

Invited?

You were invited??

I slowly turned to Joey, who looked at me, his face completely pale.

Oh no.

Damien pulled a small, fancy box from his jacket and handed it to Natasha, who accepted it cautiously, like she was dealing with a bomb from a man who owned half the skyline.

"A wedding gift."

"You...um didn’t h–have to do this." Natasha stuttered.

"I wanted to."

She smiled politely, still trying to grasp why the CEO of Lockwood Group was at her wedding in the first place.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Finally, Joey seemed to find his voice. "Man, I... wow. I wasn’t expecting you."

Damien looked at him. "Neither was I."

Joey swallowed, and I noticed he wouldn’t look at me, which was its own kind of acknowledgment.

Just then, Maya got even closer, glancing at Damien, then at me, and then at Joey.

Her expression shifted, like she realized that the minor inconvenience she thought she had caused had escalated into a full-blown emotional disaster.

"Oh shit."

I turned to her slowly. "What? What is it? Who the fuck invited him?"

She looked away, suddenly remembering her maid-of-honor duties and the urgent need to escape this conversation.

"Maya."

"I’ll explain."

"Explain what?"

She grabbed Joey’s arm like it was the only solid thing in a sinking ship.

"Not here."

I narrowed my eyes, knowing that wasn’t a good sign. I followed them a few steps away, leaving Connor looking confused, as if he had wandered into a soap opera.

"What the hell did you two morons do now?"

Joey threw up both his hands in a defensive gesture, clearly expecting me to yell at him. "Okay, before you get angry—"

"I’m already angry!"

"Right."

"Why the hell is Damien here?!"

Joey glanced at Maya. She looked back at him, and I looked at both of them, feeling the patience of someone who knew the answer would only be terrible.

"You invited him."

That wasn’t a question, Joey winced, and Maya sighed.

"Technically, yes."

"Technically?!"

"It was months ago."

"What does that even mean?"

Maya lowered her voice, like she was about to say something that sounded worse out loud.

"Joey and I were planning the wedding before I knew I was pregnant."

Joey nodded, likely hoping this would somehow make him feel better about the situation. "We were drinking wine as we worked and..."

"How much wine?"

He looked uneasy. "A reasonable amount."

Maya shot him a look that could sour milk.

"An unreasonable amount." Joey corrected.

"Fine. An unreasonable amount." I rubbed my forehead, already regretting all my life choices. "Continue."

Maya sighed again. "We were reminiscing about old friends back at Hawthorne, and Joey said he wondered what Damien was doing."

"I...I said it would be nice if he came," Joey interjected, as if nostalgia could somehow be a valid excuse.

"And then we found his contact information."

I stared at him. "How the hell did you drunk fuckers even pull that off?"

Maya continued, trying to finish her confession before I exploded. "It doesn’t matter, okay? We got drunk while sending out invites to Joey’s wedding and we sent him an invitation."

"And then?"

"Nothing."

"There wasn’t a response?"

"No response...so we kinda forgot."

I looked back and forth between them. "And you forgot?!"

Maya gave me a sheepish smile that did nothing to improve the situation. "We had a lot on our plates."

"You invited my ex-boyfriend to my best friend’s wedding and forgot about it?!"

Joey flinched again. "When you say it like that—"

"How the heck am I supposed to say it?"

He lowered his voice as if that would somehow make this less disastrous.

"We honestly didn’t think he’d come."

I barked out a laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. "You didn’t think he’d come?"

"After almost four years?" Joey whispered. "We figured he’d ignore it like everything else you’ve done to contact him."

That hit me hard. For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond, like everything else.

I glanced at Damien, who was now talking to Natasha about something, nodding as she asked questions about his company.

He looked calm, as if none of this mattered to him...like four years hadn’t passed, like he hadn’t vanished from my life.

My anger surged back, sharp and familiar. "You two are fucking unbelievable!"

"I know," Joey murmured.

Maya reached out for my arm, as if physical touch could help. "Oliver, we really didn’t mean for this to happen."

"You didn’t mean for the billionaire CEO you invited to your wedding to actually show up?"

"Well, when you say it that way, it sounds pretty bad."