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I felt my stomach drop. Mom looked like she might actually faint. I slid my arm around her waist and steadied her.
“They married for a green card?” I said, blinking.
It was like a thunderclap of silence. I couldn’t even process what I was hearing.
I looked around the reception hall. The fairy lights. The gold table runners. The family speeches that suddenly felt like theater.
“You mean this whole wedding—this was for show?” I asked.
Gavin’s mom winced. “No, no. It’s real now. They just didn’t want you to judge them for how it started.”
I didn’t even know what to say. Mom was staring blankly at the cupcake tower like it had personally betrayed her.
Celine had always been impulsive. But this was a whole new level.
I found her a few minutes later, standing barefoot behind the bar, sipping leftover champagne from a teacup.
“Hey,” I said, “We need to talk.”
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