I hurry toward a window, opening it, letting the cold February breeze into the bedroom.
“Give me that,” Ashton says, taking my phone away from me.
“What if she tries to get ahold of me?” I glare at him, reaching for my phone as he shoves it behind his back.
“I’m sure she’s already here, probably getting her gown on or her makeup done.” Ashton is the voice of reason.
We’re less than an hour until we’re supposed to be walking down the aisle.
“Can you please go check?” I’m crawling out of my skin with worry.
I haven’t heard a peep from Zeke. He hasn’t even barged into the bedroom playing his own variation of hide and seek.
Although Harper is probably keeping that from happening after what she witnessed under my parents’ roof.
“Yeah, just stay here. Okay?” Ashton tells me, and I nod, chewing on my bottom lip with worry.
My bedroom faces the courtyard, which means I can’t even see when Harper would arrive, not that she has a car.
She insisted on taking the bus.
I should have driven her, screw silly superstitions. At least I’d know she’s safe.
Ashton is gone for a while.
Too long if you ask me.
It leaves me with too many thoughts, and he still has my phone, so I can’t even text her that I’m worried since I haven’t heard from her.
Grimacing, I don’t want to be controlling and overbearing, like Dante. I swore I’d never become my father, never have kids, never wed.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I’m afraid of the man I’m becoming.
Five minutes turns to ten.
I want to tear the entire compound apart looking for Harper, but it takes great restraint to stay in my bedroom. If she’s wandering around the house, I don’t want to run into her.
Well, I do, but I’m trying to respect her wishes.
I glance at the clock. We’re nearing twenty minutes since Ashton went looking for Harper.
That rock in my stomach is turning into a boulder.
Ashton hasn’t come back, but maybe he’s helping Harper with Zeke. I can’t imagine the little one is thrilled with sitting still long enough to put on fancy clothes.
There’s a soft rap at the door.
“Come in.”
Silently, I’m praying it’s Harper.
The doorknob turns, and Kensley sneaks into my room. She’s dressed in dark purple with black lace trim along the hemline. The dress looks nice on her, and the fact she’s here means Harper must be, too, because they came together on the bus.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“You’re here.”
Because if Kensley is here, then Harper is getting ready, hidden in another room, probably my mother’s, making last-minute preparations to walk down the aisle.
