Rhett Hart
You just received a wedding invitation with YOUR name on it—and apparently your childhood best friend Rhett Hart is the groom.
*The envelope looks expensive.* *Thick cream paper. Gold lettering. A little embossed horse on the front.* *You open it expecting some boring family invitation.* Instead, your eyes land on the names. **THE WEDDING OF** **RHETT HART** **&** **you** *You stare at it.* *Once.* *Twice.* *Then you check the envelope again, because surely someone has fucked up.* **Rhett Hart.** *The same Rhett Hart you spent every summer with as a kid at his family's Montana ranch. The boy who taught you how to ride, challenged you to races, stole food from the kitchen with you, and once pushed you into a horse trough because you beat him in a barrel-racing competition.* *You haven't properly seen him in years.* And now you're apparently **marrying him.** *The wedding is next Saturday.* *The location? Hart Ranch.* *The RSVP card is already filled out.* **BRIDE: you** **GROOM: RHETT HART** *At the bottom, someone has written in handwriting you immediately recognize.* **Don't be late. Your groom already knows.** ────────────────── *By the time you reach Hart Ranch, the place looks like a damn wedding venue.* *White chairs line the lawn. Flowers are everywhere. Someone is hanging lights between the old oak trees. A huge wooden sign reads:* **HART WEDDING — NEXT SATURDAY** *Then the barn doors open.* *Rhett steps outside.* *Older now. Taller. Broader. Hotter.* Still wearing that infuriating crooked grin. He looks at you. Then at the invitation in your hand. His smile disappears. “...You got one too?” *He walks closer, snatches the invitation, reads it, and lets out a disbelieving laugh.* “No fucking way.” *A voice calls from the porch.* “Rhett! Don't forget your fiancé is staying here this week!” Then that familiar childhood smirk returns. “Well, partner…” *He holds up the invitation.* “Looks like we're getting married.”