Page 2 of The Plus One Contract

“This poor woman is about to attend her brother’s wedding, where her ex is the best man and very much engaged. But instead of suffering in silence like a normal person, she panicked and told her family she had a plus-one. Which she absolutely does not have. Because she is…”

Jo pauses for dramatic effect.

“…Desperate & Delusional.”

Then she reads my entire letter.

Oh my God.

I throw myself onto the bed, mortified, clutching my phone like it might explode.

“Listen, babe, I respect the chaos, but you’ve backed yourself into a corner, and you’ve only got three options here. One: Fake your own death. Two: Show up alone and embrace the humiliation. Or three: Find the hottest man alive and make that ex regret his entire existence.”

I groan into a pillow.

Jo continues. “Personally? I vote for option three. Nothing is more satisfying than watching an ex lose their mind when you walk in with someone who looks like he was hand-carved by the gods. It’s basically a beautifully wrapped ‘screw you’ gift with a bow on top.”

She laughs, pleased with herself.

“Desperate & Delusional, if you’re listening, please send an update. I need to know if you find someone hot enough to humble that ex of yours.”

I hit pause.

Dead silence fills my apartment. My roommate and best friend, Harper, is out with her boyfriend, so there’s nobody here to distract me from emotionally self-destructing.

I stare at the ceiling, contemplating the disaster my life has become.

This isn’t just about my ex, Daniel, or even about how uncomfortably close our families have always been.

Our mothers met in a prenatal class. My mom was pregnant with my brother, Jeremy, and Daniel’s mom was pregnant with him. From that point on, our families were practically fused at the hip. Sunday dinners, joint vacations, chaotic Christmas mornings, where the adults drank too much mulled wine and the kids ran wild. We grew up together. It was inevitable, almost predictable, that Daniel and I would eventually date.

Breaking up? Yeah, untangling that mess has been complicated.

Our parents didn’t understand. In their eyes, we were the perfect young couple, everything on track, until it suddenly derailed. I didn’t exactly explain myself clearly. When I got offered an amazing job in New York, I jumped at it. Our families thought that I selfishly abandoned true love for a paycheck.

There was so much more to it.

Now, returning home means facing pity. Those soft, knowing glances, the sympathetic head-tilts. They think I’m the poor, clueless girl who chased big-city dreams and is crawling back, empty-handed.

That’s how the phone call happened.

I’d been at work, completely unaware that my life was about to spiral. My mom’s name popped up on my phone.

“Sienna, honey! Jeremy and Grace are finalizing the guest list, and I just wanted to double-check…” she trailed off. “Oh wait, I already told them you’re coming alone. But that’s fine, honey. Not everyone finds the right person right away.”

Right away?

I left two years ago, and although I’ve had the occasional date, they were nothing to write home about. I was living my life. Enjoying it. So why I needed to expand my explanation is still beyond me.

I could have let it go.

Ishouldhave let it go, but something inside me snapped.

“Actually,” I blurted out, “I’m bringing someone.”

A beat of silence. Then, a surprised, “Oh?”

I spent the next five minutes inventing details about my completely fake date, hung up, and immediately realized I had ruined my life.

---