Jeffrey had well-boosted his morale. He was proud of himself for gathering up the courage to speak with Dušek, and he was extra thankful it had all gone smoothly. Once Tommy had gotten there, it had almost been fun. Jeffrey might even go so far as to say he liked Dušek – something that would not have been possible mere hours earlier. If he had to lose Skye to someone, with a little more time, Jeffrey thought that he wouldn't mind that the someone was Dušek. Maybe, he'd be able to whole-heartedly support them. Jeffrey told himself this to bolster the nerve to go see Skye.

All of his newfound reassurance withered when he learned where she was – in the carriage house for another last-minute fitting. He really did not want to see her in her wedding dress. He knew his mind by now. It would run with the new daydreaming material and drag him right back to square one: depression.

Oh well. He'd told Dušek that he would talk to her for him, so that was what he would do. If he was lucky, he might better curb his fantasies this time around. Probably not, but he could hope. He could try.

Jeffrey trudged to the carriage house, his heart sinking and sinking with every step. He wouldn't stay long – just poke his head in, relay Dušek's message to Skye, and be on his way. Easy, right?

He knocked on the door.

"Who goes there? Groom or guest?" That was Jane.

"It's Jeffrey."

"Then, enter away," said Jane.

Jeffrey pushed open the door. The carriage house was a mess, scattered with scraps of fabric, Jane's books, and a few Chinese take-out containers. He didn't see Skye, but Rosalind was on the couch, and her wedding dress was draped over a nearby chair. Anna, her best friend from childhood, was beside her and pouring herself a glass of rosé.

"Did Tommy get the rest of the flowers up correctly?" Rosalind asked.

"Yes, so you can stop worrying," said Jeffrey.

"She'll never stop worrying. She's a worry wart," said Anna. Some wine splashed over her hand when she leaned back in her seat, and she licked it off her fingers.

Rosalind jumped up to relocate her white dress to a safer, much farther location.

"What do you think I'm going to do? Chuck my drink at it?" Anna complained.

"It's just a precaution," said Rosalind.

"Thank you, Rosalind," said Jane. "It would pierce my very soul if my masterpiece were soiled by wine stains."

"Why the lack of faith?" said Anna. "I'm drunk, I'm not a trainwreck."

Jeffrey had heard enough stories about drunk Anna to know that the two things were largely synonymous.

"Is Skye still here?" said Jeffrey. "Dušek asked me to give her a message."

"Dušek?" said Jane, surprised. "Hey, is he still being—"

"A fucking bitch?" Anna supplied. When everyone looked at her, she said, "What? People talk. Word got around."

"'Fucking bitch' might be a bit of an exaggeration," said Rosalind. "We do like Dušek, Anna."

"But, yes, is he?" said Jane.

Jeffrey chuckled and shook his head. "We talked it out. There's no problem."

"You're too nice," Anna gulped down more wine. "I, for one, would still be vexed."

"Anna," Rosalind scolded. "We're happy he's not vexed."

"I know, I know. I'm just saying, being too forgiving is asking for trouble," said Anna. She pointed at Jeffrey. "When some manipulative she-devil wrecks your heart one day, remember that I—"

"Okay, that's enough booze, I think." Rosalind took the glass of wine from Anna and sipped from it herself.

Anna raised her hands. "Remember I warned you. That is all."

"Now who's lacking faith?" said Jeffrey.

Did no one think he was capable of finding a good partner? Granted, his heart was currently with a taken woman, but that was beside the point. No one could call Skye a manipulative she-devil. His taste was perfectly sound, it was the circumstances that were the problem.

Skye appeared from an adjacent room, dressed in her now completed wedding gown. There was a chorus of squealing from the other three women, the loudest of which belonged to intoxicated Anna.

Jeffrey set his teeth. Skye looked perfect in that dress. It was plain and slim fitting, with a straight neckline and spaghetti straps – the only type of dress he could have pictured her in. She looked so uneasy in it; he wished he could innocently tell her how well she wore it.

"Wow," he said, before he could catch himself. He was quick with the save, turning instead to the dressmaker. "Good job, Jane."

"Skye, you look—" Rosalind began.

"Hot as shit," Anna finished.

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "Lovely. You look lovely."

"Isn't she a model?" said Jane. This was, of course, not the first time she'd seen Skye in this getup. "No, a queen! No, a goddess!"

"Stop, stop!" Skye waved her hands to dispel the praise. "It's just a dress."

"And it's the most important dress you will ever wear!" said Jane. "Jeffrey, tell her how good she looks."

He couldn't let himself do that, so he said, "I think you look very sensible, Skye."

"Thank you," she said with a pointed glare at everyone else. "That's a compliment. No stupid dramatics."

"You're a bride, you dingus," said Jane. "Weddings call for the greatest dramatics."

"Not my wedding," Skye grumbled. "This bride will take no flattery, nonsensical or otherwise."

"Try telling that to Dušek," Jane snickered. "The poor guy will melt at your feet when he sees you in this."

"Dušek knows better than to melt," said Skye.

"I doubt it," said Jeffrey. He'd probably do some melting himself, if he were the one meeting Skye at the end of an aisle while she was dressed like that.

"Don't you start too. You were doing good," Skye told him.

Jeffrey's mouth quirked. "Sorry."

"You're fools. Romantic fools, all of you." Skye huffed, but then she laughed.

Jeffrey twisted the ring he wore on his index finger. He focused on how its engraving felt under his fingertip, so he wouldn't think too much about how it felt to hear her laugh. It was like liquor, intoxicating him, then leaving him sick and regretful. He wanted more of it, but it only caused him harm.

"I am a proud romantic fool," said Jane, indeed proudly. "And you are a cynical skeptic."

"Skepticism is the backbone of science," said Skye. "All great discoveries are first met with criticism, and it's just the same for weddings."

"Hooey," Jane sniffed.

"Hooey yourself," said Skye. "Jeffrey, while you're here, can I talk to you?"

"Sure." Jeffrey was reluctant to be alone with her – where he was most often plagued by unwelcome visions of kissing and the subsequent shedding of clothes – but he didn't exactly have a choice.

"Are you trying to escape us, Skye?" asked Jane. "I assure you, we are inescapable."

"That is a challenge I am happy to accept," said Skye. "Come on, Jeffrey. You should escape too, while you're still clearheaded. They'll sucker you into their cult if you're not careful."

"I am an independent thinker. I cannot be suckered," he said.

"Don't enable the grump, Jeffrey," said Anna.

When he lifted his hands in a display of innocence, Skye grabbed his arm to pull him from the room. Her touch made his skin prickle with heat – a heat that soon spread all the way to his face, because Skye led him into the house's one bedroom and closed the door.

He leaned against the nearest wall, unwilling to step any further into the room. Already his imagination was taking flight. He grabbed it by the wings and yanked it back to earth. He wouldn't go anywhere near that sort of thinking.

Skye sat on the bed, the very bed that Jeffrey would have loved to see her do more than simply sit on.

"I've been wanting to ask you, are you upset?" She looked nervous. Feelings were outside her realm of expertise.

Yeah, he was upset. He had spent a lot of time upset lately. Skye really had selected the worst possible spot to speak with him. He had his daydream locked up, but all of its explicit glory obnoxiously battled the cage.

"Upset about what?" he asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

"Dušek's dumb attitude earlier."

"Oh. No, I'm not," said Jeffrey, still glued to the wall.

"Are you sure? I feel like you've been avoiding me."

"I haven't," Jeffrey lied. "And I talked to Dušek earlier, we got everything sorted."

"Huh. I didn't hear about that."

"It was a recent conversation. By the way, I'm supposed to tell you, there's an unexpected guest at the airport. I forgot her name. Ambika, maybe?"

"Albínka?" Skye flopped back on the bed with a groan. "Perfect."

Jeffrey laughed, but his attention was not on Skye's complaining. Her new position, sprawled on the bed, was hard for him to ignore, and it was quite a detriment to the imprisonment of his more salacious thoughts. To make matters worse, the slit in her dress had given way to expose her California-tanned leg. Jeffrey looked out the window so he wouldn't stare.

Skye was far too comfortable with him. He was breaching her trust. She'd never lounge so leisurely in front of him if she knew what it made him think. She probably wouldn't even want to be alone with him, and that wracked Jeffrey with guilt. He did fight his imaginings, and while he wasn't entirely unsuccessful, his efforts weren't quite enough.

He was a traitor. That was the only word for it.

Skye propped herself up on her elbows. "Dušek sent you with that message? Specifically you?"

"Yeah, I told you. It's all sorted," said Jeffrey.

"Okay, good." To Jeffrey's great relief, Skye sat up. She tossed a hand through her hair with a sigh. "And, Jeffrey – I did tell him he can't talk to you like that. It's really been bothering me."

"It's alright. He felt bad about it, and I'm pretty good at letting things go. You know that."

Good at letting things go, sure. Apparently people were quite different. He'd have to work on that. He was more attached to Skye than anyone, and though they would forever stay some version of friends, it wouldn't be the same. He had long treasured their closeness, but sooner or later, he would have to accept that it was nothing but a memory. He was clinging possessively to something that was already gone. They hadn't really been best friends for years.

Life was nasty that way – Skye was the person he least wanted to lose, and she was also the one he must.

"Well, if it is all fixed, can I ask what you think of him?" said Skye.

"I like him. He's great," Jeffrey said without pause.

A big smile crossed Skye's face. "Thank goodness. A feud between my two favorite guys is something I have little patience for."

"No feuding," Jeffrey promised. He squashed the satisfaction he got from hearing that he remained one of her favorite guys. He wasn't her ultimate favorite. "You've got my stamp of approval."

"Then, I can get married worry-free. That's the only thing I was missing," said Skye.

Oh great. Another lovely slap in the face from life itself. If he was a lesser man, he might have purposefully withheld his stamp of approval, knowing that it had that sort of power.

Aloud, he contradicted those thoughts. "Glad I could help."

"You always do," she said. She stood and turned around, scrunching her hair on top of her head to expose the back of her dress. "Can you unzip this for me? I miss my shorts."

Jeffrey's heart backflipped. Since Skye couldn't see his face, he took a second to properly deal with his irritation, and frankly, disbelief at this new development. He closed his eyes, his teeth gritted, his lips pressed in a tight line. Was there really no end to the ways that she could mock him?

Alright, "mock" was an unfair term. Skye wasn't doing these things on purpose. Still, he felt mocked by somebody, whoever it was out there getting a good laugh at Skye asking him, platonically, to help her out of her dress. Her wedding dress.

Since total, paralyzing, emotional and sexual attraction to her was the only reason Jeffrey had to say no, and since he couldn't exactly share that reason with her, he didn't refuse. He pushed off the wall with heavy reluctance. His fingers fumbled with her zipper, and his throat tightened when he dragged it down to expose her lower back. He carefully kept his hand from touching her, though all he wanted to do was trail it down her bare spine. The zipper stopped much too low for comfort. Too late he realized that he hadn't needed to undo it entirely. Halfway would have been sufficient, but now, due to his own cruel mistake, he would have to struggle to burn the small of her back from his memory.

"Thanks," said Skye. She was so in the dark about him that it hurt. It was almost funny. "Now go away so I can change."

Jeffrey just about fled the room. He shut the door behind him and rested his forehead against it, letting out a long exhale.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck, Skye."

And that was enough moping about that. Jeffrey rubbed his hand down his face and returned to the others. Batty had joined them in the living room. She caught his eye right away, before her gaze flicked down the hallway he had emerged from.

"Our well-intentioned teasing didn't make the bride fly the coop, did it?" said Jane.

She was joking, but fleetingly, Jeffrey wondered if maybe Jane was actually concerned that Skye could bolt. She'd shown no signs of it, but since Jeffrey would have liked for her to, he uncovered some irrational hope. Such thoughts were always brief, merely instinctual, and Jeffrey made sure to roll his eyes at them whenever they cropped up. Too many times he'd imagined Skye fleeing her wedding. When it was late at night, and he was near sleep, he'd also imagined her telling him that he was the reason she had run. He'd fall asleep with these musings, and he'd wake up in a sour mood, when he remembered the chances of that happening were zero. Indulging in those dreams was injurious and pitiful, which was why he only did indulge when he was semi-conscious.

"Nope. She just wanted to talk about Dušek," he said.

"And you told her that her brave and noble men have set aside their arms and declared a lasting truce?" said Jane.

"Basically." Jeffrey didn't like being referred to as Skye's man, since he wasn't, and he hated that. He especially didn't like how Jane had said it so innocently.

Batty stood from her chair. "Do you want to get in some more practice? Your dad is asking."

Jeffrey thought that was what the previously scheduled rehearsal was for, but he was glad to have an excuse to depart from brides and bridesmaids and wedding dresses. He agreed.

When they were outside and on their way back to Arundel, Batty said, "Alec didn't actually say anything. I just thought you might need saving."

Jeffrey smiled. It was comforting to have her looking out for him.

"How are things?" asked Batty. "How are you?"

Peachy. Skye took me into a bedroom and asked me to unzip her dress, but I'm great, Jeffrey thought but didn't say. "Still fine."

"You don't look all that fine."

Again, Jeffrey smiled, this one tight and bitter. "I'm doing my best, Batty."

"I know. You're doing great."

The affirmation was nice, but it wasn't true. Jeffrey wasn't doing great at all.

A/N: I included Anna because I thought it was really quite a bummer that she dropped out of the series in book four. I would have loved to hear her comments about Oliver