The Toast
I raised my champagne glass like I belonged there.
“To Jess and Tyler,” I said, voice steady, smile warmer than it had any right to be. “A perfect couple - whose love is a reminder that sometimes, fate knows better than we do.”
I didn’t know their names ten minutes ago.
It’s not that I make a habit of crashing weddings. It’s that weddings invite you in. Everyone’s overdressed, over-drunk, and emotionally available. They’re looking for meaning. Or forgiveness. Or someone who understands them a little too well for a stranger.
I just happen to be that stranger.
People laughed politely, clinked glasses. Across the ballroom, someone whispered, “Did he say Jess? I thought she hated that.”
Too late now.
I stepped down from the mic as the DJ queued up something aggressively romantic. A few guests nodded at me like I’d earned my place here. One even winked.
Then a man I didn’t recognize approached with slow purpose and narrowed eyes.
“You’re... Daniel, right? Jess’s ex?”
I blinked. Smiled. Nodded once. Why not?
He leaned in. “She said if you showed up, we were to keep things... civil. But you should know - her dad is watching you like a hawk.”
Behind him, an older man raised a glass toward me. No smile.