She says she will

The room fell completely silent—an awkward, breathless pause—and then erupted in overlapping reactions.

“No fucking way—”
“Are you serious?”
“She’s joking. She’s gotta be joking.”
“Dude, if she’s not, this is the greatest night of my life.”

Emily stood at the center of it, one hand on her hip, the other smoothing a lazy wrinkle from her wrap blouse. She didn’t blush. She didn’t backpedal. She let the silence ride a moment longer, let them all drink her in: the soft curves hugging her jeans, the open line of her blouse dipping just enough, the glow in her flushed cheeks. She felt their eyes, and this time… she let them stay there.

“I’m not promising anything,” she said, her voice smooth, measured. “But if he wants it... I’m willing to make tonight special.”

All eyes turned to the groom.

He looked like a deer caught in headlights—mouth slightly open, face flushed, beer bottle forgotten on his thigh. His name, someone whispered, was Derek.

“Derek,” Emily said softly. “What do you think?”

He tried to speak. Choked on it. Cleared his throat.

“I—uh—I mean... I don’t wanna disrespect—”

“Bro,” one of the guys cut in, “this is a once-in-a-lifetime situation. You literally can’t fuck this up. You won’t get this again.”

Another guy stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s not like you’re married yet.” Then, grinning at Emily, “You’re really serious?”

She nodded.

“I got a room downstairs,” she said. “Booked it for myself so I wouldn’t drive home drunk. If Derek wants to come up for a bit… well. That’s his choice.”

“Holy shit,” someone whispered.

She turned to Derek, holding his gaze. “You wanna?”

He nodded—tentative, but real.

Emily smiled.

“Bring your beer,” she said. “And your phone. Just in case you get lost.”