We were halfway through some influencer's dramatic breakdown about losing brand deals—like literally crying over a moisturizer like it was the fall of Rome—when my phone buzzed. Madison's name lit up the screen with that perfect, Oscar-worthy timing she always nails.
"Your fiancée?" Emma asked, not taking her eyes off the TV but smirking like she'd just found out Elon Musk tweeted at a toaster again.
"Unfortunately, or fortunately," I said, already grinning like I'd just scored front-row tickets to chaos. "Hey, beautiful."
"Don't 'hey beautiful' me, you ghost," Madison's voice slithered through, that mix of affection and accusation that could make a Disney villain blush. "I've been texting for hours. Did you fall into a coma after your… activities last night?"
Emma's eyebrows shot up, trying not to laugh like she was holding back a TikTok-level viral moment. Perfect. Madison was subtle as a sledgehammer dipped in glitter.
